Page 58 of Wintertime Love (Holiday 2)

“Plus, you’re here. Why would I go anywhere else?”

My heart stutters in my chest at his casual declaration and for a moment, my feet are rooted to the spot. Does this man just blurt out anything he wishes to say? He’s so outrageously shameless when it comes to pursuing me that he even leaves me speechless.

Finn’s lips curve in that mocking smile of his. “Aren’t you going to come in then, Darlin’?”

I wet my dry lips and hold his gaze for a few seconds before covering the distance between us and stepping past him, my chin raised in a challenging manner, as if daring him to try something.

If anyone were watching us, they would never be able to guess that we just bared our hearts to each other a short while ago.

My eyes wander over the obvious repairs, the walls that smell of fresh paint, the gleaming wooden floor that looks like it’s recently been laid out. Everything has been replaced and yet it doesn’t quite look complete. The furniture is a bare minimum.

I love through the foyer into the main living room and its empty, as if waiting to be furnished. The kitchen is in a similar state except that it’s been equipped with a top tier oven, housing small machinery that requires people to sell both kidneys, and my mouth waters at the extravagant display.

“What do you think?”

Finn’s voice is right next to my ear and I jump before turning my head slightly to look at him. “Why did you furnish the kitchen but not the living room?”

He smiles, that mysterious Sphinx smile of his that is a giveaway that he’s planning something. “I thought I’d hold off on that.”

“Why?” I blurt out without thinking.

He steps forward and then he’s crowding me against the door of the refrigerator, a model I can’t afford, and my heart is beating fast. His proximity to me is almost drugging, especially when he presses his body against mine, holding me in place.

One glimpse of his dominant side and I go weak kneed.

It’s hardly fair but I can’t help it. The man has me completely wrapped around his little finger, having addicted my body to his masterful touch. Now, one word, one look from him is all it takes to get me wet and even while it frustrates me, I can’t help but purr under his attentions.

Right now, his eyes are studying me, half amused me as if asking me how I plan to get out of this situation.

My hands reach up to curl in his shirt, giving him a mutinous look.

“Darlin’, if you keep glaring at me all the time, people will think that you don’t love me.” Finn chuckles, one hand smoothing the permanent frown on my face.

“I don’t glare at you all the time,” I defend myself, even as I feel a hint of guilt creep in. But I don’t know what else to do in the face of all these feelings I’ve never experienced before. And I honestly feel that I’ve gotten better at it.

Finn has slowly and meticulously whittled away at my reluctance, tearing down my barriers. I smile more, I’m more relaxed and I’ve started I opening up to him. To me, these are not small feats. It’s like I’m overcoming one obstacle at a time, learning how it is to fall in love with someone. It’s a powerful feeling, tinged with fear and wariness, and so much contentment. His presence soothes my worries away and when he’s around, I can’t seem to take my eyes off of him. There are so many layers to him that I keep on discovering and each layer that I uncover has me even more fascinated and entranced.

When he keeps looking at me with clearly no intention to move away, I raise my chin.

“You didn’t answer my question. Why haven’t you furnished this place?”

Finn grabs another errant curl of mine and I toys with it. “I don’t think I should be the one to furnish it.”

“Oh.” I blink, suddenly remembering something. “You interior designer?”

He raises a brow. “No.”

When he doesn’t offer anything more, I narrow my eyes. “Then who?”

He smirks, murmuring, “So bossy.”

I don’t deny it, an odd anxiousness filling my soul, and my hands clench tighter on his shirt, not wanting to betray the conflict raging inside.

Was I always this insecure?

Why does it always feel like Finn is one step closer to slipping out of my fingers?

I don’t know what he sees in my eyes, but the smirk dies from his lips, and a gentle look replaces the mischievous one on his face. “Why do you always look like you think I’m going to go and hurt you?”

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