Page 47 of Riptide

Come to my place instead, around eight. Arrive hungry.

The grin that blooms over my lips feels so genuine it makes me a little giddy. Arrive hungry? That sounds like a win-win for me.

I’m hoping for dinner and dessert, with a hefty dose of distraction too.

Chapter twenty

Foxx

IthinkI’vebeendick-matized.

Is that even a thing? If it is, then Finn has done it to me. It's the only explanation for the insanity of me hooking up with him again. Morals? Don't know any. Ethics? Never heard of them.

My feet move fast, nearly tripping over themselves as I rush around my apartment, hands snatching up anything out of place and stuffing it out of sight. There’s not much but, suddenly, the book I left open on the coffee table looks too messy, and the water ring underneath it looks like evidence of a life not as put together as I pretend it is.

It’s ridiculous. He’s been here before. He doesn’t care about my bookshelves, or the way my shoes aren’t lined up perfectly by the door. If anything, Finn seems like the kind of person who thrives on messiness.

And yet, I’m still standing in my kitchen, wiping down the counters for the second time in five minutes.

I need to get a fucking grip.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Finn

I hope you’re decent. I’d hate to walk in and get ideas.

I scoff, but smile too. The audacity of this man. I think it’s one thing I like most about him. His confidence is unwavering. It’s refreshing.

Foxx

You already have ideas.

I could have told him not to come. Could have ignored him, set a boundary, reminded myself that this isn’t anything serious. But instead, I told him not to be late.

Now, I’m standing in my kitchen, heart beating a little too fast, checking the time like a man obsessed, like it’ll make any difference to whatever this is turning into.

Like I don’t already know I’m in trouble with him.

The buzz for my door makes my pulse jump higher.

Deep breath. Calm down. I make my way over to the intercom and press the button to let him into the building, all while sweating.

I anticipate the second knock on my door, but it still does nothing to soothe my frayed nerves. My hand grips the handle and as soon as it swings open, those blue eyes scald me. They trail over me slowly, leaving nothing unburned, taking in every inch of me, until they land on my face again, and he winks.

“Smells good in there,” he says, stepping inside without hesitation. “If this is your way of seducing me with food, I’ll allow it.”

I close the door behind him, leveling him with a look. “I told you to show up hungry. Are you hungry?”

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he moves closer.

Before I can react, his hands are on me. One grips my hip, while the other presses against my chest, backing me up with effortless control. I let him, too caught off guard, too caught up in the way his touch sends something hot through my veins.

My back meets the wall, the cool surface a contrast to the warmth of him in front of me. Finn braces a hand beside my head, close enough that I can smell the salt on his skin, the chill of the night clinging to him. He looks at me, eyes flicking over my face, my mouth, like he’s waiting for me to say no, but that word doesn’t seem to be in my vocabulary with him.

His lips press against mine, nothing hesitant about the way he takes. It’s not desperate, just a tease of pressure, like a hook meant to sink beneath the skin and stay there.

Just for a breath, he lingers, then pulls back, his smirk deeper now, more satisfied.