Page 14

NOVA

M y body still hums with the memory of Finn's touch as I wake.

The empty space beside me is cold, the sheets long since losing his warmth. I run my fingers over the pillow where his head rested briefly after we made love, before he slipped away to resume his duties as my protector rather than my lover.

Last night changed everything. Crossed a line we'd been dancing around since the moment we met.

The way he looked at me as he moved inside me, like I was something precious and dangerous all at once.

The way he whispered my name against my skin like a prayer.

The way he held me afterward, his body curled protectively around mine, if only for those few stolen moments.

But this morning, his side of the bed is empty. As if he's already retreating from what happened between us.

I slip from the bed, wrapping a robe around myself before padding to the window.

Outside, the mountain is shrouded in early morning mist, beautiful and mysterious in equal measure.

Somewhere out there, Finn is likely checking the perimeter, fulfilling his professional obligations with the dedication that's so fundamental to who he is.

The same dedication that's now at war with whatever is growing between us.

A soft knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.

"Nova?" Finn's voice, uncharacteristically hesitant. "You awake?"

"Come in," I call, turning from the window.

He enters cautiously, as if unsure of his welcome. He's fully dressed, hair damp from a shower, carrying a mug of coffee that he offers like a peace offering.

"Thought you might want this," he says.

I accept the mug, our fingers brushing in a way that feels more intimate after what we shared last night. "Thanks. You've been up a while."

"Perimeter check." He remains standing just inside the doorway, maintaining a distance that wasn't there when he was buried inside me, whispering things against my skin that made me believe in forever. "Cade took the night watch. My turn this morning."

"Everything secure?"

"For now."

The professional answer stings more than it should, especially after the raw intimacy we shared just hours ago. I take a sip of coffee to hide my expression, but he sees it anyway. Finn doesn't miss much.

"Nova." Just my name, but it contains questions I'm not sure I'm ready to answer.

"You regret it," I say, deciding directness is better than uncertainty. "Last night."

"No." His response is immediate, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that steals my breath. "I don't regret a single moment of last night."

"Then why are you looking at me like we're back to client and protector? Like what happened between us was just physical release, and now we go back to professional boundaries?"

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I've come to recognize as a sign of internal conflict. "It's not that simple."

"It can be, if we let it."

"No, it can't." He takes a step closer, then stops himself, as if afraid of what might happen if he comes within touching distance. "Last night was... incredible. But it doesn't change the reality of our situation."

"Which is?"

"You're still in danger. I'm still responsible for your safety. And being emotionally involved only complicates that."

"We're already emotionally involved, Finn." I set down the coffee mug, tired of pretending this is a casual conversation. "That ship sailed somewhere between you kissing me by the fireplace and you telling me I was yours while you made me come for the third time."

Color rises in his cheeks at my bluntness, but he doesn't deny it. "I know."

"So what are you really afraid of?"

"Losing focus. Missing something important because I'm distracted by how much I want you. By how much last night meant to me."

Last night meant something to him. Not just sex, not just physical release after days of tension. Something real.

"It meant something to me too," I say softly.

"I know." He crosses the remaining distance between us, close enough now that I can smell the soap on his skin and the coffee on his breath. "That's what scares me."

"Why?"

"Because when this is over, when they catch your stalker and the danger has passed, you're going back to your world. Back to sold out arenas and red carpets and a life that has no place for a man who lives alone on a mountain because he doesn't fit anywhere else."

There’s brutal honesty in his words. He's not pulling away because he doesn't feel enough. He's pulling away because he feels too much, and he's already preparing for the moment he believes I'll leave.

"You don't know that," I say, reaching for his hand. "You don't know what I want or where I'll go when this is over."

"Don't I?" His fingers lace with mine, but his expression remains guarded. "You're Nova Wilde. Your life is in Los Angeles, in the spotlight. Mine is here, in solitude. Those two realities don't overlap."

"They could, if we wanted them to."

"Could they? Really?" His thumb traces circles on my palm, a small point of connection that feels more intimate than it should. "Can you honestly see yourself living on this mountain? Giving up the career you've built? The life you know?"

The questions hang between us, heavy with implications I'm not prepared to address.

Because the truth is, I can see it. More clearly than I should be able to after less than a week.

I can see mornings waking up beside him, evenings watching the sunset from the deck, a life built on something real instead of the smoke and mirrors of celebrity.

But I'm not ready to admit that. Not to him, and maybe not even to myself.

"I don't know what I see," I say honestly. "I just know that right now, I'm happier here with you than I've been anywhere else in years."

Something shifts in his expression. "That's the isolation talking. The relief of being away from the pressure, the cameras, the expectations. It's not about me."

"Don't tell me what my feelings are about," I say, pulling my hand from his. "I've had enough of that in my life. People telling me how I should feel, what I should want, who I should be. I didn't expect it from you."

He flinches as if I've struck him. "I'm sorry. You're right."

"Do you even believe that? Because you seem pretty convinced that you know exactly how this ends."

"Nova." He reaches for me again, but I step back, needing space to think, to breathe, to process the whiplash of going from his arms to this careful distance in the span of a few hours.

"I need to get dressed," I say, wrapping my robe tighter around myself. "Your brother's probably waiting for breakfast, and we don't want to keep the security detail hungry."

The sarcasm is childish, but I can't help it. I'm hurt, and when I'm hurt, I lash out. It's a defense mechanism I developed years ago, when I realized that showing vulnerability in this industry was like bleeding in shark-infested waters.

"This isn't about Cade," Finn says, his voice low and controlled. "This is about us figuring out what last night meant and where we go from here."

"Seems like you've already decided where we go. Back to professional distance and pretending we don't feel what we feel."

"That's not what I want."

"Then what do you want, Finn? Because I'm getting mixed signals here."

He steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "I want you. More than I've wanted anything or anyone in longer than I can remember. But I'm also terrified of what that means. For your safety. For my sanity. For whatever future we might or might not have when this is over."

The raw honesty in his voice cuts through my anger. "I'm scared too," I admit, letting him see the vulnerability I usually hide so carefully. "I don't do this. I don't fall for men I've just met. I don't imagine futures that have nothing to do with my career. I don't let people in."

"And yet here we are."

"Here we are."

He reaches for me again, and this time I don't pull away. His hand cups my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone in a touch so gentle it makes my heart ache.

"I don't know how to do this," he says softly. "How to be with someone while also keeping them safe. How to balance what I feel with what I'm responsible for."

"We figure it out together," I say, leaning into his touch. "Day by day."

He nods, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

The moment is broken by a knock on the bedroom door, followed by Cade's voice. "Finn? We've got a situation."

Finn's expression shifts instantly from vulnerable lover to focused protector. "What kind of situation?"

"Frank's on the satellite phone. FBI has a lead on the stalker. And it's not good."

The blood drain from my face as reality comes crashing back. For a few precious hours, I'd almost forgotten why I'm here. Why Finn is in my life at all. The danger that brought us together and will eventually, one way or another, separate us again.

"I'll be right there," Finn calls to his brother, then turns back to me. "Get dressed. We need to talk about this together."

I nod, already moving toward the bathroom on legs that feel unsteady. "I'll be down in five minutes."

He catches my arm as I pass, pulling me against him in a swift, fierce embrace that contains none of the uncertainty of our earlier conversation. Just protection, possession, a wordless promise that whatever is coming, I won't face it alone.

"Nothing's going to happen to you," he murmurs against my hair. "Not while I'm breathing."

Then he's gone, slipping out the door to deal with whatever new threat has emerged, leaving me alone with the ghost of his touch and the certainty that nothing about this situation is going to end the way either of us expects.

By the time I make it downstairs, Finn and Cade are huddled around the satellite phone in the living room, their expressions grim as they listen to whatever Frank is saying on the other end. I hover in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt but desperate to know what's happening.