Page 6 of Unintentionally Yours

Arousing.

Ridiculous, she scolded herself firmly. Getting the hots for her reluctant host was the last thing she needed right now. She had to focus on figuring out what she was going to do with her life now that she wasn’t going to be the mattress queen, not on how prettily Finn’s lashes fanned against his cheekbones as he bent over her injured foot.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, the words tumbling from her lips without permission. “For barging in on you like this. I swear I’m not some kind of klepto bridezilla with a chip addiction. I just...I needed a place to hide out, just for a little while.”

Finn paused, a smear of antiseptic cream glistening on his fingertip. Slowly, he raised his gaze to meet hers, green eyes glinting with an emotion she couldn’t quite name.

“And you thought running into the middle of the woods was a good place to do that?”

Layla shrugged helplessly. “I wasn’t exactly thinking straight at the time.”

“Clearly.”

The dry humor in his tone startled a laugh from her lips. The sound bounced off the bathroom tile, bright and effervescent and so at odds with the weighted tension thickening the air between them. Finn’s features softened almost imperceptibly, the hard line of his mouth gentling into the barest hint of a smile.

He finished bandaging her foot in silence, his touch warm. When he was done, he sat back on his heels and fixed her with a penetrating stare.

“So, I have an official runaway bride on my hands?” He looked at the items that now lay on the bathroom floor. Her dress and veil, thigh-high white stockings, killer corset, and…white silk panties.

Did his gaze linger on them a little two long? Layla thought maybe they did. Which, of course, made those dirty thoughts come crashing back.

She sighed, picking at a loose thread on the edge of the towel. “It looks that way.”

As if sensing that was all she felt like saying, Finn pushed to his feet and extended a hand in her direction. “C’mon. Let’s find you some clothes before you catch your death of cold.”

Right. Clothes. Because she was still very much naked beneath the damp towel.

And damp in a certain place that had nothing to do with the rain or the shower and everything to do with the breathtakingly handsome man standing before her.

Flushing at her wayward thoughts, Layla placed her hand in his larger one and let him tug her upright. Her breath hitched as the motion brought her flush against his chest, the hard planes of his body burning through the thin cotton barrier between them.

They stared at one another for a brief, breath stealing moment, then Finn’s gaze dropped to her parted lips. His voice, when he managed to speak, was little more than a growl. “My bedroom is through that door. Take whatever you need.”

With a suddenness that left her breathless, he stalked from the bathroom, leaving Layla to sag against the vanity, her knees weak and her body throbbing with a different kind of pain.

Oh boy. She was in trouble. The good kind of trouble, maybe, but trouble nonetheless.

Shaking her head, Layla pushed away from the counter and limped towards the door. She needed to get dressed, to get her head on straight. To focus on her next steps instead of the way Finn’s calloused hands felt against her bare skin.

But first...she had a text to send. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to her mother just yet, but she could send a text. She might disagree with her overzealous parent ninety-nine percent of the time, but she didn’t want her to worry – well, worry any more than she already was.

CHAPTER THREE

. . .

Finn sat on the edge of his sofa, his head cradled in his hands, as he listened to Layla moving around in his bedroom, the thud of drawers opening and closing as she searched for something to wear. His imagination ran wild as he pictured the towel dropping from her body. Not that there was much left to imagine. No, he’d drank in the sight of her curves as she’d stood before him, a brave tilt to her chin when she realized she’d been caught with her hand in the chip can, so to speak.

Damn, the image of those large breasts, stiff nipples standing in stark relief against the pink islands of her areoles, was seared into his brain. It had his body hardening all over again. He could still feel the weight of her gaze on him, that intoxicating mix of vulnerability and defiance as she tried to cover herself.

He bit back a groan, desire coiling hot and heavy in his gut. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman this badly. It was more than simple lust, though. More than base physical attraction. The hunger he felt for her was off the charts. And so damn unexpected.

She was a stranger, but now she was everywhere. In his space, his home.

Under his skin.

Finn swore softly, savagely, fisting a hand in his hair. What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t some horny teenager ruled by his hormones. He was a grown-ass man, battle-hardened and world-weary. He’d seen and done things that would make most people piss themselves in fear.

And yet, one look from Layla Bryant’s big brown eyes and he was ready to fall to his knees. It was insanity. Madness.

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