Page 35 of Protecting His Finch

His fingers brush the back of my neck as he pulls my hair to the side. Softly, I feel his lips touch that small, bare space underneath my ear.

“This is a good look on you. Keep it.”

With that, he shifts away, but—

I’m not done with him.

I turn, grab him by the face, and pull his mouth against mine.

When he kisses me, it feels dangerous. This man could crush me. He could grind my bones to make his bread. He presses me to the wall, and I melt up against it. But instead of demolishing me, he’s tender. This human tank licks my mouth, coaxes my lips apart with his tongue, and invites himself inside. His coarse beard is like steel wool against my cheeks and contrasts sharply with the sweetness of his kiss. I taste his warmth, the heat of him, until I’m panting frantically against his mouth.

He pulls away suddenly with a sharp hiss, and I realize I’ve unconsciously grabbed his shoulder. “Shit—oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

He’s wincing, but he looks amused. “Don’t worry about it.”

The sound of a woman’s throat clearing jolts me to attention.

Tasha and Sid stand side by side in the hallway. Tasha is wearing a Cheshire cat grin. “Y’all ready for dinner?”

20

ARCHER

Keeping my hands off Finley is the worst kind of exercise in restraint.

We sit side by side at dinner. Tasha and Finley have cooked. Sweet potato fries and turkey burgers. It’s delicious and pairs well with the bottle of red she’s put on the table.

I’m not sure the last time I ate. I’m not sure how long I’ve been out. But it feels like years, and I go back for seconds.

Tasha and Finley talk animatedly—about school, about life. Tasha asks Finley about her drawings; Finley asks Tasha what it takes to keep a chicken coop operational. Honestly, I’m not paying much attention to their responses.

It’s hard to think with Finley this close. When she listens to Tasha speak, she rests her hand at the side of her neck. It’s a small, distracted gesture, even though she looks locked into her conversation.

My attention drifts to the swooping curve of her neck.

Her long, delicate fingers.

I want to bite that neck.

Suck those fingers.

My need grows hot.

“—Archer?”

I reset at the sound of my name. My heart pounds.

Finley cocks her head at me. Her eyebrows are dark, intense.

I’m feverish. I need to cool it on these painkillers.

“What?” I ask.

“Did you grow up here?” Tasha asks.

“Not exactly. Queens.”

She bumps Sid with her shoulder. “You two have something in common. Sid grew up there, too.”

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