Page 39 of Your Two Lips
After talking about the tattoo, neither one of us spoke much during that massage. I was afraid my voice would give me away. I wanted to rub my hands down his chest and along his abs, caress them. That hadn't happened before during a massage.
I was losing my damn mind.
“Could I use your restroom?” I asked.
“Sure.” Finn stood up from the table and collected empty plates and dishes. “I’ll give you the quick tour.” I had only been in the kitchen briefly to chop potatoes earlier.
The sliding door off the deck opened into a spacious kitchen with an island on one side and a breakfast nook on the other. Beyond the kitchen on the right was a glass-paned door to a mudroom before the cased opening to the living room. I looked past the coffee table and well-loved sectional sofa to the large picture window in the house's front.
“Alexa. Turn on the hall light,” Finn said.
Through the window, I spied two front porch rocking chairs and a few ferns hanging from a rafter. “You have ferns and flower boxes. You like other flowers besides tulips?”
“Those are Mom’s. I water them. She brings me baked goods. No one gets hurt.” He grinned and gestured. “Kitchen, living room, the bathroom’s this way.” He started toward the hallway to the left. The floors were a few shades darker than natural, and the walls were a warm beige, highlighting the deeply stained moldings and lofty ceilings. It had been remodeled since its original days and was masculine with a hint of spice lingering in the air.
“Here you go.” He stepped aside, and our hands brushed as he passed. There was that jolt again.
“Thanks.” It sounded breathy and needy.
The guest bath was clean … not spotless, but nothing to be ashamed of. White tile with dark grout in the shower and black metal fixtures. When I finished, I stepped out of the bathroom and noticed two more doors. I knew I shouldn’t snoop, but I wanted to know what his bedroom was like. Would it smell as sexy as he did?
I slipped down the hall and took a peek into the room next to the bathroom. It was good-sized, with a queen bed and a slim desk holding a laptop with a framed diploma hanging above it.
I crept further to the door on the other side of the hall. This room took up the other back half of the house, opposite the kitchen. This had probably been two smaller bedrooms in the original floor plan.
A king-sized bed with a navy duvet sat against the inside wall across from a stone fireplace set on the side of the bungalow. A nightstand held a couple of hardback books and a mug. Along the back wall was a large picture window framed by heavy drapes, with the same view of the fields that we had sitting on the deck. With mahogany brown furniture, a plush rug, and deep blue fabrics, the room was cozy and inviting.
I returned through the kitchen and out to the deck. My cheeks were flushed and warm from either the wine or my imagination. With his back to me as he stood at the rail, Finn looked out at the fields and the water and mountains in the distance. He turned as I opened the sliding glass door, a warm smile on his relaxed features.
“Dessert?” He pointed to the table. “Tess made lemon bars the other day and dropped some off. They taste great with the wine.”
“Oh, yes.” I sat and selected a piece with a browned edge. “Your mom and sister keep you well fed.”
His grin was instant. “They do. Which is why all the biking.”
“That and you love it.”
“That’s true too.”
He paused. “Thanks for doing this race. I wasn’t excited about it at first, but now I’m actually looking forward to it.”
“Me too,” I said.
The light dimmed to only stars, and I reveled in the comfortable quiet and stillness between us. Stifling a yawn, I stood. “Can I help with the dishes?”
“No, don’t worry about it. Let’s get you home.”
The drive was quiet though awareness of the firm planes and ridges of his hard body sitting only a foot away sizzled in my veins along with the wine.
He got my bike off the back of his truck and walked it into my garage while I followed with my gear and tote. He leaned the bike against the wall then faced me, shifting his weight. This felt like a date. God, I wished it were. Did it feel that way to him?
“Thanks, Finn. I … um. This was nice.”
“It was.” His eyes did that blazing thing again. Was he leaning in? Feeling my weight shift toward him, I grabbed his hand to catch myself before I fell face-first into that powerful chest. We shook goodbye like I totally intended to do that. Shook hands? So lame.
I stifled an eye roll as I hurried into the house before the blush on my face became too obvious. I needed to do something, or I would make a complete fool of myself from here on out.
After the race, I was making my move, however feeble it may be. All those times I imagined what it would be like to press my body into his did not compare to the reality of that day on the dock. I wanted the reality of his lips, his skin, his heat, all of him.
