Page 58 of Riptide

We stay like that, water pounding over us, hearts beating wildly as he pulls out of me, and I wince slightly with the sting. I might be a bit sore tomorrow, but it was so fucking worth it.

“Stay with me tonight?” he whispers, and I almost don’t hear him over the pulse in my ears.

I lift my head, turning to meet his gaze. It’s sated, but somehow still burning deep inside.

“Okay,” I say and mean it.

For once, leaving doesn’t even cross my mind.

Chapter twenty-five

Foxx

Iwaketothesmell of coffee and immediately shoot upright in bed. Blinking into the low light of the room, I realize it must be morning. That sweet, subtle scent registers in my senses again as I squint to the empty spot beside me.

My feet hit the cool wooden floor with a thud, and I stumble across the room like a newborn foal still tangled in sleep, knocking my hip into the dresser, catching my toe on the bed frame hard enough to curse. “Ah, fuck!”

There’s a sudden clatter from the kitchen that makes me forget all about my injuries, and just as I reach for the door handle, it swings inward, narrowly missing an already throbbing toe to reveal Finn.

He’s wearing boxers and one of my t-shirts, an old grey college one from CLU that’s a little oversized on him. I usually wear it for exercising, but seeing him in it makes me want to find another shirt and let him keep that one.

It takes me a minute to realize he’s holding a mug in one hand and looking far too at home in my doorway. His hair is a mess,curls a little flattened on one side, but he still manages to make my stomach flip.

“Morning.” He grins, easy and warm. “Sorry if I woke you. You were dead to the world. Figured I’d make myself useful.” He steps forward, words still evading me, and holds out the mug. “Here. You looked like you need it.”

I take it from him without thinking. Our fingers brush, just barely. But it lands somewhere deep and still lust-drunk inside me with the memory of what we did last night. Somewhere in my mind, there’s a miniature devil version of myself telling me to jump him, kiss him, thank him for being so cute and thoughtful but, fortunately, my self-control is taking the reins. Clearing my throat, I murmur my thanks and sip the coffee. It’s black and unsweetened, which makes me hesitate… “Do you know how I take my coffee?” I ask as he walks into the room and sits on the bed with a comfortability that nudges that voice in my head again.

“Wild guess, you’re all broody and serious, so I went with black no sugar. Was I wrong?”

I take another sip, letting the caffeine work its magic on my hazy brain and body. “No, you were exactly right.”

His grin turns triumphant and does a sensational job of coaxing my own out of hiding, along with a pleasant feeling that blankets me, as though I’m submerging into a hot tub. “Jeez, if all it took for you to smile at me like that was to guess your coffee order, I would’ve done it sooner.”

I shake my head with a laugh, but the smile lingers, as does the giddy feeling. He’s made himself very much at home here already with my shirt, and in my kitchen, and maybe it’s something that confuses me because that was my role in my marriage. I used to make coffee and be up first. I guess I’m changing? Either that, or I like having him here, which is far too soon to admit that out loud.

Walking back toward the bed, I set my mug down on the nightstand. He shifts to make space as I sit beside him, the mattress dipping slightly between us.

“So what do you normally do on Saturdays?”

I think for a brief second before the answer knocks at my door. “Shit,” I hiss as I jump to my feet.

Finn’s eyebrows knit as he looks between me and the distant door. “What is it? Should I be concerned? Is there another ex-husband I don’t know about yet?”

I run a hand through my hair. “No, it’s just Eugene,” I say, my nerves spiking. “He’s my neighbor, the eighty-year-old friend I told you about. We always go to the farmers’ market together on weekends.”

His hand flies to his chest, mouth open in awe. “Oh, that’s adorable. I want to meet him.”

I shoot him a look. “You say that now, but he’s got…gumption.”

Finn throws his head back and laughs, exposing the long line of his throat. There’s a faint red mark just below his left ear—it’s barely there, but I notice it because I’m the one who put it there. A wave of heat rises in my body, caught somewhere between pride and need. I clear my throat, willing my brain back to the conversation and not lingering on what we did last night. We didn’t talk much after, both tired and satisfied, but my ego took that win and slept with a smile.

“I’ve been looking after a baby for the last few months,” Finn says, straightening, still grinning. “I can handle Eugene.”

I huff a laugh, letting it roll through me, distracting my wayward thoughts. “Famous last words.”

The knock comes again, three sharp, impatient taps, followed by a voice muffled through the wood. “Foxx, we need to get going or we’ll miss our apple cider donuts, and I need a sugar fix.”

I grab a shirt and sweats from the drawer, pull them on, and head to the door. I know Finn is following me because I can practically feel the anticipation wafting off of him. I should probably apologize or set more boundaries, but instead I find myself pulling the door open to reveal Eugene.

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