Page 64 of Hard to Love

Add to that, my training has gone well. I’m not as rusty as I expected to be and even though Kellen keeps telling me I am, he’s nowhere near as good as my father was at hiding his satisfaction of where I’m at.

It feels good to be back in the groove again.

It’d feel better if Finn had acted on that desire I saw swimming in his eyes in the kitchen.

“Maybe it’s time I give him a little push,” I murmur as I check myself in the mirror before heading out to the patio where I can hear Finn on the phone right now. “Because not only is Finn Sanderson sexy and desirable . . . he’s good.”

FINN

“THAT’S NOT HOW THIS WORKS, DeAndre. I know it seems illogical, but I can’t just go and . . .” And all thoughts fade from my head as Stevie walks out onto the deck and heads toward the railing overlooking the ocean.

The bikini. Her body. The memory of what she tastes like. Feels like.

“Finn? You okay?” my client says in my ear.

“Yes.” No, I’m not. “I, uh . . .”

“Clearly you’re otherwise occupied.” His chuckle fills my ear. “That’s what I get for calling after hours.”

“No, I’m fine.” I blink as if it’s going to rid the image of Stevie bending over to pick something up off the deck out of my head.

It didn’t.

“So, the answer to your question,” I say, trying to concentrate on my running back and not on her, “is that we have to wait. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s how the game is played.”

“Shit.”

“I know. Sit tight though. We should have an answer in the next few days. Or at least that’s what I was promised.”

“All right. I appreciate you answering even though it’s so late.”

“Not a problem.”

I end the call and look down at my phone in my hand for a beat before tossing it on the table beside me. Looking back up, I take a moment to appreciate the sight of Stevie.

Her body is honed like an athlete’s but somehow hasn’t lost the curves of a woman. And that bikini—man, that bikini—is sexy and seductive and the current reason my dick is hardening in my board shorts.

“Sorry. Did I interrupt you?” she asks as she looks over her shoulder. The coy smile on her lips and her eyes roaming down to my thighs and then back up a clear indication that the woman came out here to finish what we started earlier.

And Christ how I want to finish it.

But how do I do that when I’m living with her? When I can’t walk away when we’re done because I’ll have to see her in the kitchen over a glass of water at midnight or wake up the next morning and see her over breakfast?

That’s not who I am.

That’s not me.

I’ve never done that before nor do I intend to.

“No. It’s fine.” I smile as she takes a step toward me. “You’re fine.”

“Okay. I know it’s a lot to have someone in your space all the time so I’m just trying to make sure I stay out of yours as much as possible.”

“I told you to make yourself at home,” I say as I take a step toward the railing. “You’re not in my way.”

But you sure as hell suck up the oxygen in every room you walk into.

“Please let me know if I am.”