Page 81 of Distress Signal

The look he gave me told me wasn’t talking about the houses.

I was a feminist, damnit. I didn’t believe in God. I put my faithin goddesses, the ancient Greek variety, simply because I refused to give my prayers to some fucking masculine power in the sky. For my entire adult life, I’d supported myself by working my ass off.

I indulged in sex on occasion simply because I liked it. I wasn’t promiscuous, but I was open and honest about my sexuality. I wanted a husband and children, but I wouldn’t accept either at the cost of my own freedoms.

I wanted apartner, an equal, a man who wouldn’t look at me and think my place was in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant with a toddler on my hip.

I didn’t do the whole possessive alpha male bullshit.

At least, Ihadn’t.

But Finn claiming me?

My panties were fuckingsoaked.

What if we didn’t talk when we got inside? What if, instead, I jumped his bones? Honestly, that sounded like a much better use of my time. After all, it had been sevenlongyears since I’d last had this man inside me, and I fuckingachedfor him.

When we pulled to a stop in front of the guest house, I climbed out before he’d fully put the SUV in park, needing some fresh, Finn-free air to get my head back on straight. He made me crazy.

Gulping down a few large lungfuls, I didn’t wait for him as I climbed to the porch and unlocked the house.

As I stepped inside and flicked the lights on, an inexplicable sense of unease overcame me. I didn’t knowwhy, only that something seemed…wrong.

I halted in the doorway, and Finn’s heat appeared at my back a moment before his hand settled between my shoulder blades.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” I said, though I sounded unsure. “Something seems weird, but I’m not sure why.”

Without another word, Finn pushed past me and stalked deeper into the house, disappearing down the hall. I heard thedoors to the guest room and closets open and close as he checked for intruders. He returned a moment later, shaking his head.

“Everything looks normal,” he admitted, as though he hated to disappoint me.

“Good,” I said, breathing a little sigh of relief but not relaxing entirely.

I moved to the sideboard in the small breakfast nook, grabbing two rocks glasses and filling them with three fingers of bourbon, handing one off to him. We clinked them together before I took a heavy pull.

It burned all the way down, the good kind of sting that was immediately followed by warmth suffusing my limbs.

Finn inclined his head toward the couch, and I followed him over, kicking off my sandals by the door on the way. Tucking my feet up under me, I dragged a pillow onto my lap—my last line of defense against this man.

“So you wanted to talk,” he said.

“Thank you for tonight,” I started.

He shook his head. “No need to thank me. But I should’ve given you a better warning before dragging you into the lion’s den like that.”

“I had fun.”

“My family is insane.”

“Iloveyour family,” I admitted. “Y’all are so real. And even through the bickering, it’s obvious how much you love each other. I envy that.”

“You don’t have that kind of relationship with Lainey and your parents?”

“Lainey, yes. You know how the twin thing is.” He nodded. “But my parents are dead.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, then reached for me, looping his thumb and pointer around my wrist. That gentle, innocent point of contact set my heart racing faster. “I’m so sorry, Reagan. How did it happen? If you don’t mind me asking.”