Page 56 of Finley

“Language?” Brantley said, shaking his head, horrified over the fact that Daniel couldn’t seem to stop laughing. “That’s the least of my worries. What must she think of me? Oh my God. I was sitting in her kitchen the other day and you…you practicallyseducedme there.”

“Wow, you’re taking this much worse than I did.”

“Why? What did you do?”

“I told her I was going to pack my bag and go and stay at your house for two weeks.”

“Finn!”

“What? We’re both adults. And we were both adults back then too. She knows that.”

Brantley covered his face with his hands, and when he felt the heat that had risen to his cheeks, he shut his eyes.Damn wine.

“Brantley.”

Refusing to open his eyes, he tried to think of something he could say the next time he saw Camille Finley, becauseI’m so sorry I had sex with your sondidn’t seem to be cutting it in his head.

“Brantley.”

Daniel’s tone had his eyes opening and focusing on him, and the desire swirling in his eyes made all the panic in Brantley’s mind evaporate.

“Whatever you’re thinking right now, stop.”

Those words sounded so familiar—they were his words. And how ironic was it that Daniel was using them now—with him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Actually, you didn’t do anything at all. I huntedyoudown.”

“I let you catch me.”

“Hmm. Yes, you did. And you’re going to later tonight, aren’t you?”

When their eyes connected, Brantley felt hunted all over again. Then Daniel’s lips curled into a slow, sensual smile, and everything he might have done wrong seemed to vanish.

And he whispered, “Yes.”

DANIEL WASSURE his seared salmon was delicious, but if anyone had asked him what else was with his meal, he wouldn’t have been able to tell them. He was too consumed by the man sitting across from him to do anything other than cut, lift, and chew the food on his plate.

People came and went as they ate their way through their appetizers and entrees, and when the waiter reappeared and asked about dessert, Brantley held his hand up as if he were going to refuse.

“Are you serious?” Daniel asked. “You’re not going to order dessert? Did you see the cart when we walked in?”

Brantley nodded but then patted his stomach. “I think I’ve had more than enough. Otherwise, our morning run will turn into twenty miles.”

Trailing his eyes down Brantley’s chest to where his hand was resting, Daniel shook his head. Then he looked to the waiter. “We’d love to see the dessert menu.”

The waiter grinned and walked off to get said menus.

Daniel leaned across the table and said, “I promise to work you outrealgood when we get home. So pick something off the menu that you want in your mouth. Or, better yet, pick something you think I’d like. Because when we get home, my tongue is going to be taking a nice, long taste.”

Brantley’s eyelids lowered to half-mast, and the flush that swept up his neck was so fucking arousing that Daniel was close to taking his mouth before the dessert menus had even arrived.

“Where is that damn waiter?” he said as he looked around. Then he saw him hurrying back toward the table.

“Sorry about that.”

Once the young man handed them the menus, Daniel scanned the choices, just as Brantley was, and zeroed in on one of his favorites. Then he found Brantley’s eyes and raised an eyebrow.

Brantley’s lips quirked in a knowing grin, and then he turned his attention to the waiter. “I think I’d like the key lime pie.”