Page 94 of Dare to Love Again

She wrinkled her nose. “You can see me standing here, right?”

“You know I love you, sweetheart. Always.”

“I love you, too, Pax. Call me next week for lunch?”

His eyes shifted to Finn, silently, dom to dom, asking permission.

“Lunch is good,” he agreed. “She can take you to a great taco place downtown.”

Esme glanced up at him, grinning over his Guerrilla Tacos obsession and that he seemed to understand how important her friend was to her and that he posed no threat.

“I could join you and try to convince you to work for Rossi.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Pax affirmed then exited.

Taking her hand, Finn moved to the couch, sat, and pulled her down to straddle his lap. His hands slid around to her back, one going high into her hair, and fisting as he drew her against him. “Maybe by next week, I’ll have figured out how to forget seeing you covered in blood like in a Stephen King horror flick.”

She buried her face in his neck. “Carrie. I hated that movie; she was drenched.”

“As were you,” was his quiet, honest reply.

A violent shudder passed through her, glad she hadn’t seen it. “All that blood messes with your head.”

“Yeah, but we’re moving forward to work on dealing with those images and flashbacks rather than burying everything inside and running from those who care about you and want to help.”

It wasn’t a question or a suggestion.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s go home, darlin’. I’m wiped.”

“Even though I slept most of the day, I am, too.” She didn’t move, except to wiggle and settle against him more fully.

“You’ve had a rough one, Esme. It’s understandable.”

“Whose home did you mean? Your apartment is just across the street.”

“Your house. You live in a great neighborhood. I like your big bed, and the view from your back patio is fantastic. I’m looking forward to having breakfast with you there in the morning. And your furry-faced feline would probably like it if you came home tonight.”

She groaned, knowing Phin would not be happy when they got there.

“Don’t be surprised if you don’t recognize him. His dinner is late. It’s not that he has nothing to eat. I leave a bowl of dry food out for him to snack on, but his wet food is hours past due. My furry-faced feline has zero patience and does not like to be kept waiting, you’ll see.”

“Seems like a perfectly reasonable reaction to me. I’m not happy when I don’t get what I want.”

Her head popped up, and she sat looking down at him. “When does that happen? It seems to me, since I’ve known you, you’ve gotten everything you wanted.”

“Not everything. You’ve made me wait more than any woman. But no more, right?”

“Right,” she replied. “Thank you for being patient, Finn.”

“That’s me, the patron saint of patience. But I’ll clue you in on something, lass. I’m more stubborn than anything, and when I see something I want, I don’t veer from the course until I get it.” He gazed at her, green eyes dark with emotion, when he asked, “Can you guess what that is?”

“Me,” she stated with certainty.

“Damn straight.” Kissing her hard and quick, he lifted her from his lap, then with her hand in his, led her out of the office. “When we get to your house, we’re not leaving for a month. I’ll have food delivered, and anything else we need.”

“But what about work? I mean, I don’t have a job anymore, and if I did, no way would I darken Reinhart and Shoemaker’s doors again, but aren’t you covered up at Rossi?”

---