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Hot chicken farmer was hot angry chicken farmer, and it was all directed at me.
“No pleasures should be guilty.” Finn’s smile turned a lot more mischievous, and that energy inside me turned to heat.
Maybe there was no harm in enjoying his company. And maybe the new piglets would sprout wings and start zooming around the barn.
Big, built guys were not my usual flavor at all, but Finn was like a loaded burger after years of poached fish, a craving I couldn’t seem to shut off.
“Buttoned up tight. And all I’m saying is you could undo a collar button or two. Life might be more fun.”
“Just own it. You like the happiness factor.” I certainly did. Life was full enough of hardship and unexpected heartbreak. It wasn’t too much to ask my fictional escapes to not be all doom and gloom.
“No one calls me Harry.” His mouth pursed. I wanted to kiss it. Perversely, the more uptight he got, the more I wanted to unravel him.
I couldn’t get enough of his confidence or the innate happiness he seemed to infuse everything with, including kissing.
Funny how he could be so take-charge in certain situations and so pliant in my arms. It was a devastating combo.
A little privacy from the main house is a good thing.” Harrison coughed, and when I glanced over, he was blushing again. “Indeed.” “And there you are turning pink again because you’re thinking about sex. You’re almost as cute as the ducks.”
I wanted to see him live, wanted to see his face when we unleashed the ducklings, wanted to see who he could be if he dared to let himself hope for something beyond simply existing.
Something about Finn’s size and commanding nature made all my usual swirling worries disappear, let me live in the moment in a way that was often out of reach for me.
Harrison was so knowledgeable and self-assured in this environment, that it made the times when he was flustered at the farm even sweeter, and how he surrendered in bed that much hotter.
I was beginning to trust him with so many things—my desire to relinquish control in bed, my thoughts on “guilty pleasure” books, my secret worries over my health. And, perhaps most dangerously, I was perilously close to trusting him with my heart.
Finn was like the month of June personified, sunshine and warmth that made flavors more intense, moments more meaningful, and the whole world sunny and bright.
