When I get to Finn’s house that evening, I let myself in. He normally leaves the front door unlocked when he knows I’m coming over late. I drop my purse and coat in the front entryway, lock the door, and make my way to the bedroom. What I find there is so heart achingly sweet, I’m pretty sure my ovaries combust. Finn is fast asleep on his bed, curled over on his side with one arm stretched out. On the pillow where I would sleep, there’s a single red rose. The only light comes from a scattering of battery-operated candles throughout the room, reminding me of our night in the wine cellar. The horny side of me wants to wake him up and enjoy the romantic evening he planned out, but I also know that for him to fall asleep so early must mean he’s exhausted. The long days getting the winery up and running are catching up to him. So instead, I quietly get ready for bed in the bathroom, then after placing the rose on the bedside table, I crawl into bed beside him and let sleep overtake me.
The next morning I’m woken up by Finn’s magical tongue circling my belly button and his strong hands gripping my hips.
“Wha? Finn?” I say sleepily, and those seem to be the magical words. He wastes no time, yanking my shorts down and diving into me, licking and sucking with such intensity it feels like no time at all before I’m screaming out his name as my hips arch off the bed. I’m only vaguely aware of him tugging my shorts back into place and kissing his way back up my body until he’s stretched out beside me.
“Now we can go to work,” he says, ridiculously satisfied with himself. I swat at him as I giggle and drop my other arm over my eyes.
“Nope, can’t work. You broke me.”
Suddenly I feel his lips on mine. “Come on, sweet girl. Let’s get our work over with so I can have a redo on last night.”
My arms fall to his back and start to stroke lazily up and down. “And what exactly was last night meant to be?”
Oh Lord, the nervous blush peeking through his stubble is just too much. I run my fingers through my hair, ignoring the pang in my heart. It’s too much to let myself believe that last night he was going to tell me we should be together, like boyfriend and girlfriend, falling in love together. But the hope is there.
“Last night was meant to be me taking care of my girl.” He drops a kiss to my forehead. But before I can respond, he lifts himself off of me and strolls toward the bathroom. “Now hurry up. Can’t be late for work.”
“I’m freelance. I set my own schedule,” I call out to him teasingly. I hear the shower turn on and then his head pops around the door.
“Yeah, well, I hired you. And I say we need to get to work.” He winks, then disappears again. I fall back into the bed with a small laugh, shaking my head.
“Let’s go, sweet girl! Get up!”
With one final roll of my eyes that I know he can’t see, but it feels good all the same, I drag myself out of bed and go to the bathroom. Opening the door to the shower, I step in, arch my eyebrow at the cocky grin he gives me as he lathers his head with shampoo, then I drop to my knees.
“Still think we need to get to work on time?” I ask primly as his hand comes down and tangles in my hair.
“Fuuuck,” he groans as I take his semihard cock in my hand and begin to stroke it gently. “We can be late.”
I wrap my lips around his tip and hum before sucking him as deep as I can go. The hot water cascades down over me, making things slippery and sensual. His moans of pleasure echo around the glass shower enclosure as I work him up and down, alternating deep sucks with long, slow licks. My tongue swirls around his tip and I bring one hand up to fondle his balls. I never put much thought toward a man’s balls until now, but the way it drives Finn crazy when I do gives me a new appreciation for them.
“God. Ash.” His hand tightens in my hair and his hips start to move, slowly but surely. I take the cue and increase my speed, bringing him up and over the edge into an orgasm that has him shouting out my name, his pleasure making me heavy with my own desire.
Eventually we do manage to actually shower, both of us smiling and laughing as we dry off and go to the bedroom to get dressed.
We still haven’t talked about us, or our future, but this right here, this domestic, easy, comfortable togetherness is everything I’ve always wanted with a partner. My heart feels light and happy, and I’m starting to think that maybe Finn is telling me how he feels, just not with words.
As I’m buttoning up my blouse, my phone rings and my eyes dart down to the beside table where it sits out of habit. Wait. Why the fuck is my dad’s housekeeper calling me? I grab it and answer quickly.
“Mrs. Crenshaw? Is everything okay?”
Chapter twenty-five
Finn
Five days, and only three text messages. That’s the sum total of the communication I’ve had with Ashley since she ran out of my house.
The phone call from some woman, who apparently works for her dad, made all the colour drain from her face. I tried to hug her, to offer comfort, but she pushed me away and frantically finished dressing, grabbed her purse, and left. The only details I got out of her was that her dad was sick, and she had to go.
When she eventually got in touch with me later that evening she told me her father was admitted to hospital with a suspected heart attack. That was text message number one. When I immediately responded that I would come over to help her any way I could, message number two told me not to come, and that she hopes to be back on the island to finish the tasting room soon.
Finish the tasting room. Not see me.
The third message was a weird one. It simply said I’m sorry. Sorry for what? I have no idea because she hasn’t answered my text asking that exact question. It fucking kills me to think she’s over there with her only surviving parent sick and in the hospital, and she thinks she has to apologize to me. But the last thing I want to do is cause her more stress, or bother her if she really doesn’t want me around.
Except I miss her.
I miss her when I’m out running and I go past the Airbnb. I miss her when I’m at the winery trying to work and I walk into the tasting room. I miss her when I go to The Nutty Muffin and only buy one scone, not two.
