Page 39 of Finn

Oh, hell, I do know.

Even though this friends-only thing is working out thus far, I can’t help that I still like Finn as more than just a pal. Spending time with him has made my attraction to him stronger than ever.

Like, God, look at him now.

Even distracted as he chooses his next axe—like a new one will help him do better—this man is gorgeous. The little cut on his cheek is healing nicely, and I doubt he’ll have a scar. But damn if that mark doesn’t make him look even sexier, more rugged. His black jeans and tight gray tee he has on today add to that image, showing off his firm ass, strong, corded arms, and wide chest.

I sigh, and memories of the night we spent in his bed flood my mind.

Licking my lips, I just kind of stop and stare at him.

The way he used his body, his mouth, his cock…

A shiver runs down my spine, the good kind, and Finn, who’s done picking his axe, is now staring at me.

He tilts his head, his brow creasing.

Thank God he can’t read minds.

But crap, maybe he can, seeing as he starts grinning at me slyly.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “Whatcha thinking about over there, Sammie?”

I wave my hand as I casually walk over to him. “Oh, nothing.”

He spins his axe like a pro. “You sure about that?”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure.” I nod a little too exuberantly, and it becomes clear from the smirk on his face that he knows I was reminiscing about that night.

Hey, I’m sure he does too.

It was that damn good.

Chuckling, he steps up to the throwing zone…and nails a perfect bull’s-eye.

Shit, this game is on.

Despite a valiant comeback on Finn’s part, I end up winning our axe-throwing battle.

Since it’s been my night to pay, and we haven’t even come close to what dinner cost him the other evening, I suggest we grab a bite to eat at the pizza joint next door.

He seems a little hesitant, though I have no idea why, so I add, “I know you like Italian food based on the other night. So, what do you say?”

“Yeah, sure.” He nods. “I’m up for some pizza. But…” He holds my gaze. “I’m buying.”

Ahh, this is why he was slow to say yes. He’s worried about me spending more money.

I shake my head. “That isn’t our agreement, Finn. We’re supposed to take turns paying.”

“I know.” He sighs. “But it seems unfair. No offense, Sammie, but I make a hell of a lot more than you do.”

I assure him that I’m not offended. What he’s saying is true. His annual income is far higher than mine. But what he doesn’t know is I have a huge savings account and several investments that have done very well.

That’s how I was able to afford such a nice townhouse and a decent car. But I don’t like to talk about that money. The reason why I have so much is related to what happened that awful night all those years ago.

And you know what? I’d give everything back, every last cent, if I could have a do-over with a different outcome.

But life doesn’t work that way.

---