Page 9

Keira poured coffee with a sharp clink of the mug on granite. “You’re very fond of issuing commands.”

Her voice was light, teasing, but a knot of tension tightened in her stomach. Because his commands didn’t sound like threats. They sounded like promises. And worse, they stirred something in her she didn’t want to name.

His voice was quiet. “And you’re very good at ignoring common sense.”

Finn plated the eggs with practiced ease, sliding them onto two simple white plates. He carried them to the small round table and set one in front of her without a word, then moved to her side and pulled out a chair, gesturing with a tilt of his chin for her to sit. She hesitated for a heartbeat before accepting the unspoken truce, and sat down.

They ate in silence for a few moments—he’d made her scrambled eggs, buttery and light, with a hint of pepper and fresh herbs she didn’t want to identify but absolutely wanted to inhale. The toast was golden, not burnt, with real butter melting into it.

Even the damn coffee was perfect—strong, dark, rich. It pissed her off how good it all tasted.

Eggs and coffee and a tension so thick it might as well have been on the menu.

Finally, she set down her fork. “What happens when I’ve paid my debt?”

Finn met her gaze, dark and steady. “Then we’ll talk about what comes next.”

“And until then?”

“You follow my lead.”

“Careful, Finn. That sounds dangerously close to a Dom/sub proposition.”

"You always were a smart girl," he said, grinning at her over the rim of his mug as he took a sip of coffee.

She'd meant it to be flippant, but her voice hitched just slightly, heat blooming in her chest like a warning flare she couldn’t ignore. Her mind screamed caution, but her body betrayed her with the memory of how it had felt to surrender to his touch, to lose herself in his control.

He raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t be the worst dynamic for us.”

Her breath caught—because her body remembered. It remembered the way his voice could turn her muscles to molten heat, the way his hands had known exactly where to touch, how to claim. It remembered how she’d melted beneath his gaze, how easily he could draw desire out of her with just a word, a glance. And it wanted—not just the physical ache, but the surrender wrapped in safety, the dark thrill of giving in.

Even now, wrapped in doubt and fury, her body betrayed her. Heat pooled low in her belly, memories curling like smoke in her mind—his mouth tracing the curve of her collarbone, the rough edge of his voice when he’d made her beg. Her fingers itched with the memory of how tightly he used to hold her, not to restrain, but to possess. It wasn’t just arousal—it was the terrifying recognition of a need she'd never fully shaken.

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Who said we're playing?” he countered, voice low. “But you’re welcome to test me.”

Challenge lit behind his words, something primal and electric. Keira’s fingers curled tightly around her mug, knuckles whitening. Her breath caught for just a second, traitorous and sharp, as if her body reacted before her mind could stop it.

Keira, despite herself, wanted to rise to it. Her breath hitched, heart stuttering against the pull he ignited in her. It was reckless, dangerous—and yet a part of her burned to meet that challenge, to push back, to test just how far he’d take it. The tension wasn’t just heat anymore; it was a fuse, lit and hissing toward detonation.

She set her mug down, slowly. “Fine. Let’s play your game. But I get to set a few rules of my own.”

His grin was all predator. “Negotiate away, sweetheart.”

The words dripped heat.

And in that moment, a memory hit her—flashes of the night they'd almost gone too far. His hand at her throat, not choking, just holding, grounding. Her wrists pinned above her head. The way his voice had gone silk-slick and dark when she’d begged for more. She’d trusted him then. And wanted. God, she’d wanted.

Before she could open her mouth, her phone buzzed on the counter. She glanced at it, heart skipping, uncertain if she should answer. Before she could decide, Finn leaned over, picked it up, and handed it to her without a word. The warmth of his fingers brushed hers, a subtle reminder that he was still too close, too aware.

Blocked number. She hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen, stomach twisting. Then she picked it up. “Hello?”

The air in the room turned electric, her pulse thudding as if her body already knew the voice she was about to hear.

A familiar voice, smooth and cold, slid down her spine like ice. “Running again, Keira?”

Her blood went cold and she felt it drain from her face.