Page 15 of Sea of Evil and Desire (The Deep Saga #1)

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Finn

S he winced when I called her name, turning slowly. There was a flush in her cheeks.

I dropped the garbage bag and crumpled soft drink can I was carrying, folding my gloved hands across the chest of my black coat as I surveyed her.

The girl was sopping wet, wearing nothing but a fucking fur coat—the fur coat her grandmother gave her. Interesting .

Her cheeks grew rosier under my gaze. Perhaps she was remembering how she’d undressed at my house. I hadn’t gotten the memory out of my head either. I had tried—trust me, I’d tried—but it seemed burned into my subconscious.

She pulled the folds of her wet fur tighter. Was she naked again now? My jaw hardened as I gritted my teeth.

“I—uh—” she started. Her teeth were chattering. “I was swimming. You know, the benefits of ice baths and all that.”

Bullshit. I almost snorted aloud, but she started walking toward me.

Oh no, you don’t.

“Your friend Skye’s been looking for you.” I took a sideways step so my body was blocking the space where the jetty met the sand. “She said you’ve not been at work in two days.”

“I’ve been sick.” She tried to push past me, but I remained in her path.

“Here.” I pulled off my jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders, and she tugged her wet fur tighter underneath it. It was a gentle gesture on my part, but I needed her to trust me if I was going to try again.

She gazed up at me with wide green eyes, her lips tinged purple, her wet auburn hair tucked into my jacket. It was as if she were bracing for the inevitable question: Why had she been swimming in the freezing harbor while sick?

I said nothing. I now had suspicions, but I could find out everything I needed to know without asking if my gifts worked.

Her gaze lingered on me, tracing the muscles in my forearms before she quickly looked away, a flush rising to her cheeks once more.

Could it be my allure? No, she didn’t have the same docile, foggy-eyed expression they usually got. This was different . . . She desires me. The thought caused a tremor in my groin, and I shifted from foot to foot, shaking myself.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyes moving to the garbage bag, now deflated at my feet.

“Cleaning up the rubbish that careless morons leave scattered on these shores.” A muscle ticked in my cheek.

“Oh. How often do you do that?” She nibbled on her trembling bottom lip.

“Pretty much every morning when I’m here.” I shrugged, brushing my hair from my forehead with a gloved hand.

She stepped from the jetty, her bare feet sinking into the damp sand. Reaching down, she picked up the soft drink can I had dropped. “Here,” she said, placing it into the bag as I opened it. Our hands brushed, and she didn’t pull away.

There was that damned niggle at my cock again.

“Thank you.” I swallowed as the side of my gloved finger met hers.

Images of that night at my house flooded my mind—her eyes locked on mine, hands tangled in her hair, her offering herself to me.

Oh, gods be damned.

“I should go.” She made as if to remove my jacket from her shoulders.

I put my hand atop hers. “Keep it. I am sure I will see you soon.”

It looked like she didn’t know what to say or do—she knew this situation was completely absurd. She mumbled a thanks and pushed past me, her face burning.

This was perfect. I thought she had returned to America, but no. My father was right—there was more to this little human than met the eye.

I will get her alone again without distractions. This time, I will not fail.