Page 27

Now she was back in his orbit, close enough to touch—but no more his than she had been then. An hour. Then another. Pacing the length of the guest suite like a caged thing, trying to get his breath to slow, his instincts to heel.

He stepped out of the shower, pulled on a pair of jeans and walked back to the primary suite. He opened the door to find her standing by the window, wrapped in one of his old dressing gowns, staring through the glass like it held answers. She turned slowly as he entered, her expression unreadable.

"You said you needed to breathe," he said quietly, voice pitched low. "I let you."

He took a step closer, squaring his shoulders to hide the vulnerability gnawing at his center. His tone hardened, more shield than strength as he met her gaze. "You're still under my protection, Keira. That comes with boundaries I won’t compromise on."

Her eyebrow arched. "Rules, huh? Am I allowed to negotiate, or is this more of a 'do as I say or else' situation?"

Finn crossed the room in three strides, stopping just short of touching her. "You can question them all you like, but they stand. No sneaking out. No disabling any of the security systems. You don’t leave the lawns or courtyard here at the house without me or my men."

"So much for trust," she scoffed.

His lips tightened. "It’s not about trust. It’s about keeping you breathing. Which, despite everything, I still care about more than I should."

The silence stretched between them, thick with emotion and unspoken need. He wanted to close the distance, to pull her in and lose himself in the warmth of her skin, the weight of her presence—but not now. Not when fear still lingered in the air like smoke, and every nerve in him was strung tight with restraint.

Shaking his head, he took a step back.

"I’ll be sleeping in the guest room. Just down the hall if you need anything."

He turned and walked out before she could stop him, his jaw tight, every step a silent act of control. The door clicked shut behind him with a quiet finality, like the hush before a blade drops—sharp, irrevocable, and echoing with everything he hadn’t said.

Hours passed. The darkness deepened even as the moon crept higher into the sky to play hide-and-seek amongst the clouds.

The fire in the guest room had dwindled to embers, but Finn hadn’t slept. He’d tossed his shirt onto the bed as soon as he entered and stretched out on the too-small bed in his jeans, staring at the ceiling like it might offer salvation.

Then came the soft knock—a hesitant, almost apologetic sound that made Finn’s breath still in his chest. He didn’t move at first. Just stared at the door, listening to the silence that followed, heart thudding like a war drum in the aftermath of battle.

He didn’t need to ask who it was. He knew.

She opened the door without waiting for an answer. Her eyes were shadowed, her mouth a tight line. There was no trace of her usual sarcasm or defiance, only stark determination. No games. No snark. Just Keira, stripped of pretense, standing in his doorway like a storm held in check.

"I can’t sleep," she said simply.

He sat up, muscles tensing. "You shouldn’t be here."

"I know. But I didn’t want to be alone."

"Keira..."

"Don’t. Just… I don’t know what I want, Finn. But I know it’s not a cold bed and this distance between us."

Her voice wavered, tinged with a raw edge of vulnerability Finn hadn’t heard from her before—a tremble that cracked through her usual strength and settled deep in his chest, raw and unexpected. It was unguarded, unpolished—like she’d peeled back one of the last layers of defense and left it bare between them.

Keira’s breath hitched audibly. For a heartbeat, she looked like she might bolt—eyes wide, jaw set—as though saying the words had taken more strength than she thought she possessed, and now she wasn’t sure she could survive their echo.

He stood slowly, hands clenched at his sides. She looked up at him, emotions churning just beneath the surface. "You don’t get to use me to feel less alone, Keira.”

She stepped closer, her gaze steady. "And you don’t get to pretend you don’t want me here."

His growl was low, feral. "You have no idea how badly I want you. But you walked out on me once. Do you not get that you can just open my veins and let me bleed? You've always had that ability, and god help me, I don't care. If you stay, I'm going to fuck you, and I won’t stop."

Her breath caught. She stepped into him, placing her hands flat against his chest. "Then don’t stop. Just promise me one thing."

He looked down at her, heart thudding. "Anything."

"That this doesn’t make me yours again. Not yet."