Page 54 of The Hot Shot

The bathroom is warm and humid, the air fragrant with the vanilla-lemon bubble bath he added to the water when I wasn’t looking.

Finn gazes down at me, his expression so tender, I might break. I can’t. If I cry now, I don’t know if I can stop.

“Look, you don’t have to stay more than the night,” he says in the quiet. “But I wish you would. I’ve got some away games coming up and will be traveling for a couple of weeks, so you’ll have the place to yourself.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

The stiff way he holds his shoulders eases, and he lets out a breath. “Good. Go on and have your bath. I’ll get the meds the doc prescribed.”

“You’ll get my meds?” God, all I’m doing is parroting him now, but my mind has scrambled.

Finn rests his hand on my shoulder. “Chess, honey, I’ll get you anything you need.”

He becomes a blur as my eyes fill. I blink back tears that cannot fall. But my resistance crumbles. With a shuddering breath, I step into his space and wrap my good arm around his waist. “Finn,” I croak.

Immediately, he gathers me up, holding me close, his lip pressed to the top of my head. I lean on him and wallow in the feel of his body, strong and firm and warm. It’s so comforting, part of me wants to pull away, afraid that I’ll come to need this too much.

But I can’t move.

“I think I love you right now,” I tell him, my voice muffled on his crisp shirt. Those massive arms of his tighten a fraction, even as his chest shakes on a laugh.

“Only right now, eh?”

“I’m sure you’ll eventually say something to remind me why that’s a bad idea.” I don’t bother lifting my nose from his chest. The silk of his tie presses against my cheek, the scent of fine wool and clean man surrounding me. Finn in a suit is devastating, but I miss his T-shirt and jeans.

“Probably,” he agrees then sighs. “I’m glad you’re okay, honey.”

A fine tremor goes through his body. And I realize, he isn’t nervous, he’s upset. I snuggle closer. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Always, Chess.”

He says it with such fierce sincerity that my knees go weak. I think about the loss of my house, my work. Jesus, my Nikon D5 DSLR. I took out a loan to get that baby. Not to mention my lenses. My beautiful lenses. Gone. Melted.

Panic claws up my throat. If I let it in, I’ll ask him to take me to bed, make me forget for a few hours why I’m so scared. I can almost hear myself begging, almost feel my hands moving down to cup the fat bulge in his pants.

He’d be willing. I know this well. Finn has never hidden his attraction to me. It would be so good, I knowthiswithout a doubt. But morning would come, and I’d still be a womanwithout a home, facing the only friend I have close right now with all the awkwardness and regret that comes with a one-night stand.

I force myself to loosen my hold on him, to step back and find some distance.

Finn’s arms fall to his sides as he watches me back up. The loss of him makes me cold and off-balance. I clutch my arm to my chest.

“I should take my bath now.”

“Sure.” He leaves me to bathe, closing the bathroom door behind him.

At some point while I soak, I hear him return and leave my pain meds in the bedroom. By the time I crawl into his soft guest bed, the sheets smelling faintly of laundry detergent but stiff with disuse, I’m shaking.

I cry with my face buried deep into a pillow so he won’t hear.

Nine

Finn

I’m one twisted bastard. My girl has had one of the worst nights of her life, and here I am, fucking content because she’s in my home.

It rattled me to the core when I thought of her hurt or worse. The time it took me to get to her had felt endless. When I’d finally found her, all bruised and dazed, her green eyes so wounded and scared, it leveled me. I’m still shaking deep inside.

With a grunt, I push my body up, my weight resting on my fingertips. Sweat trickles down my temples and into my eyes. Slowly, I lower myself until my nose almost touches the floor. Up, down, the burn in my arms and chest is a welcome distraction. But not enough.