“What thing?”
“The lawyer thing. The ‘I’m preparing for the worst possible outcome’ thing.” Finn tossed his clothes onto the couch, clearly not planning on covering his naked body, a decision I wholeheartedly supported. “Iwantto stay, Chase. I want to sleep next to you and wake up with you and see what you look like when you’re not exhausted from working fourteen-hour days.”
“Okay.”
“But there is one condition.”
My heart seized. “Um, okay. What?”
“I don’t do bad coffee, and your kitchen looks like it hasn’t been used since, well, ever.”
“I’m not great in the kitchen.” I chuckled. “But the crepe place down on 7th has great coffee . . . and the best breakfast in town. How about an early morning date before I have to go into the office?”
“That sounds perfect.” He kissed me again. “Now where’s my phone?”
I laughed—actually laughed—as Finn turned and bent to search his clothes. The vertical smile that grinned at me was adorable.
Phone secured, Finn turned back, and I took his hand—the same hand I’d been gripping like alifeline moments ago—and led him toward the stairs. He was still naked and unself-conscious about walking through my house without a stitch on, despite the floor-to-ceiling window that exposed him to all of Ybor.
Oddly, in that moment of relief and bliss and renewed hope, only one thought ran through my mind:
Diego will never let me live this down.
Chapter 27
Finn
Iwoke to sunlight slipping through curtains. It was the soft, golden Tampa morning light that turned everything in the bedroom warm and hazy.
For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was.
Then I felt a weight in my arms, a warmth of skin against mine, and the steady rise and fall of breathing that wasn’t my own.
Chase.
We’d flipped sometime during the night. I was the big spoon now, my arms wrapped around his midsection, my chest pressed against his back, and my face buried in the space between his shoulder blades. I was naked, a morning wood threatening to jab anyone or anything brave enough to come near. Chase was still in his boxers. I’d wondered about that last night, why he’d put them back on, but now I was grateful for it. If we’d both tried to sleep naked, I would have gotten zero sleep. As it was, I’d barelymanaged a few hours before my body decided that holding Chase Sullivan was more interesting than consciousness.
We’d slept like this most of the night.
Or at least, I had.
With my arms around him, holding him close, I had such a feeling of security and comfort from simple heat of his skin against mine. Chase felt right in a way I hadn’t expected.
Natural and easy.
I propped myself up on one elbow and watched him sleep.
His jaw was relaxed, softer than when he was awake and stressed about work. I noticed a small scar on his chin, something I didn’t remember catching before; but now that I saw it, I wanted to know whatever story or secrets it held. His hair stuck up in about seventeen different directions, destroying the careful styling he usually maintained.
And his eyes—even closed, there were little crinkles at the corners, like he was dreaming about something that made him almost-smile.
Awake, he was handsome, striking even.
Asleep, he was Disney-puppy adorable.
I felt myself smiling before I realized I was even doing it.
Chase’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked. I saw themoment when his consciousness resolved.
