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he looks like the kind of guy who’d patiently help your grandmother cross the street one minute and fuck you dirty on the floor the next.
Seems we don’t have that in common. Not when it comes to her, anyway. I know myself. I’ll be done for the second I touch her.
“Do you think we can take him out for a bit? So I can hold him?” Marry me. What?
** take the turtle out of his tank
Letting out into the open this stifling crush that started developing with the first words she ever said to me. So, you’re Finn. The one who never called me.
And she takes my hand. Threads our fingers together and holy shit, that lump in my throat surges up with a vengeance. My hand twitches in hers, as though my skin can’t comprehend this kind of touch, has no idea how to handle it.
I barely have a second to mumble a shocked hey before he reaches for my shopping bags and leans in to give me a kiss on the forehead. Forehead kisses. Freaking forehead kisses.
Let me do nice things for you without protesting or looking at me like I’m trying to get something out of it. Take the nice. You deserve it.” “But—” “Take it.” “But it’s—” Another poke. “Take the goddamn nice, Jenna Carling.”
I give him a wide smile this time, and there’s nothing forced about it. Not when that crooked Finn smile takes over his face as his gaze dips to my chin. “Yeah. That’s the stuff.” A very pleasant fluttering manifests deep in my stomach. Is he… Is it my dimple? That’s what’s making him smile so hard?
Moves to press a kiss to my forehead, and melts back into me so comfortably that warmth floods my chest.
It’s a damn reflex at this point. I don’t remember how it started. But it’s a reflex, and the second my lips hit her forehead, the second I pull back to absolute crickets at the table, I know I messed up. Committed a fatal error. It’s inevitable now, the onslaught of questions from the two hyenas across the table, Jude and Theo, watching the whole thing unfold with their eyebrows trying to climb the stairway to heaven.
“I’d give up everything to do this for you every minute of the day. To make you feel this good and get those sweet little sounds out of you.”
“Jenna, I have a hard time picturing you getting married because I wouldn’t have you to myself anymore. And I have a hard time accepting that there’s a guy out there who’s worthy of my dream girl.”
I reach for my chest, curling my fingers as though to reach inside. “You’re in here and I don’t know what to do with it.”
“They mean I constantly crave the way you feel. They mean I can barely muster a thought about anything but you. They mean I wake up in cold sweats most nights, thinking about how much it would scare me to have you, and how bad it would hurt to lose you.” My heart hammers and he looks at me earnestly. “Jenna, I’m so tired of pretending I don’t have real feelings for you. Fighting the way I feel about you is exhausting. And I know I can’t go without you. But I’m terrified I’ll end up like Dad.”
“I’m obsessed with you,” I say, and my voice comes out gravelly from holding back tears. “Every bit of you.”
“Jenna, I… I want you to know that the way you look… What’s inside you is even better. I adore every part of you. All the good bits, and I’m pretty sure that if I ever found a bad bit I’d adore it too.” He pauses, brows crinkling almost like he’s chastising himself. “I’d love it too. I’m in love with you.”
