Oh.
I give it to him. I don’t ever drink after people, so the tea is now his.
He takes a sip, placing his lips in the same spot mine were moments ago. A shudder runs through my body. “You aren’t grossed out drinking after a person?”
He shrugs, setting the mug down between us. “Not when the person is you.”
“I don’t carry any less germs than the average human, Finley.”
He stands then stretches out his hand towards me. I take it and he guides me to my feet, tugging me into a hug. “I’ll happily consume all of your germs,bae.”
I move my hands to splay across his firm chest and shove at him lightly, but his chest rumbles with laughter underneath me as his arms snake around me tighter. My hands maneuver to his back, and I latch them together. This is hot and tingly andgood.After a moment, he puts a small amount of distance between us, just enough that I can look up at him as he stares down at me. His eyes move from my own and down to my lips for a fraction of a second before he closes his eyes and presses his lips to my forehead.
The warmth in my chest finally explodes, rivaling any too-hot sip of tea I’ve ever taken in my life. It’s unnatural heat. The chaotic need to be closer to him. The raw desire to press my face to his and become one. It’s encompassing.
And that’s a feeling I’ve never had before, but I know exactly what it is because my twin is a hopeless romantic, always feeding me her personal and fictional stories.
I want to kiss Finley Andersson.
I rip myself away from him and turn around, discreetly fanning my blistering hot face. We aren’t dating. Right? Even though last Saturday felt like a date. Him showing up here feels like something a boyfriend would do. Hugging him feels like hugging the sun, but it’soh so good.But kissing? I wouldn’t even know where to start. Do I initiate? Does he? Am I supposed to tilt my head? Yes, I’veseen my parents do that. What will his lips on mine feel like? Will I be okay with it? Will it ick me? And what about…
Oh, heavens.
What abouttongue?
I don’t think I could do that. Just the thought of a thick piece of wet muscle invading my mouth…
I dry heave once. Twice. And then I take deep breaths and think of plants and my cats and tea and law reviews… Yes. That’s better.
“Lorelei?” Finley’s voice sounds like what I imagine a hurt puppy would sound like if they had human voices.
“I’m good, Finley. I’m okay,” I hurriedly say, spinning around to see the concern in his glistening eyes.
He steps towards me, but I automatically take one step back. “I’m sorry,” I quickly state. “I don’t know what came over me, but there’s a lot of internal and external feelings, and I don’t think I can touch you right now.”
“That’s perfectly okay, Lorelei. Thanks for voicing that to me. I’m sorry if kissing your forehead was too much.” And he genuinely looks sorry. The helplessness in his eyes breaks me, and I wish that for two seconds I could be a normal woman with normal sensory experiences.
“This is why you shouldn’t choose me, Finley. I’m not normal.” For the first time in a long time, I feel ashamed of my disabilities. Of who I am.
Finley, however, smiles and his eyes genuinely light up as he says, “Normal is so overrated, Leilei. I can wait for you. I will wait for you.” Then his face darkens, and I imagine this is what he must look like when dealing in state affairs back in Korsa. “And if youdare start to berate yourself for the way you process different sensations, I will be there to remind you that you are absolutely perfect. God made you, and He doesn’t make mistakes. You are whole. Loved. Adored. Desired. Just the way you are, Lorelei Raine.”
My mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air on land. I have no intelligent words to speak back, but that doesn’t seem to bother Finley. In fact, I believe it amuses him. As if he didn’t just wrap me in a verbal hug and give me a verbal chastising all at the same time, he turns around and takes another sip of tea from my mug.
I have never been so jealous of an object before.
Lucy’s Journal
Thursday, March 25th * 11:06 pm * sitting in bed stewing in anger
Stone Freaking Harper is the bane of my existence. The man has been asking me to do menial tasks around the office. And he apparently has the time to supervise every single one of them. Nitpicking everything I do. And then the man had the NERVE to ask me on a date. He’s my boss for crying out loud. I would never date him. Sure, he looks like a Greek god. But he’s not. He’s Stone Harper, my playboy boss who is younger than me. By only like two years, but still. Uuughhhh. Whatever. He’ll move on to some new woman in no time. He’s only stuck on me because we danced together on Valentine’s Day. He’ll get over it. I do, however, need to change the looks of the merman prince in the story I’m working on. He resembles Stone a little too much.
Chapter Fifteen
Finley
“All this work just to move to Nashville,” Braxton says, shaking his head, sawdust flying from the dark strands as he does.
“At least you got paid.” Mason elbows the bear of a man. Mason is a built guy, but next to Braxton, he is dwarfed. Which means I look like a toothpick. I’m in the lean-but-cut camp, which isn’t normal for these beef- and corn-fed Mississippi men. But I am tall. Taller than Braxton, in fact. At least that’s going for me.
