Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Finn went down like an oak tree, slow and heavy. If he hadn’t been holding on to storage bins, he would have caught himself easily. Instead, the bins flew out of his hands as he tumbled back, coming down on his ass, then his shoulder, rolling until his head smacked the hardwood. I winced at the sound, craning my neck until I could see him.
“Finn, are you okay?”
“Yeah. Fuck.”
I let out a breath of relief. He sounded more embarrassed than pained.
Propping myself up on my elbows, I looked through the doorway at Finn, still lying flat on his back. The two storage bins had fallen to either side of him, the lids now askew and their contents in a messy pile, mostly on top of him.
Hearing my sigh, he said, “I should have let you carry the damn bins.”
“That would have been nice,” I agreed.
He sat up, papers sliding off him in waves as he moved. “Everything looks okay. We’ll just put it all back in and take them downstairs.”
Reason overruled winning. Plus, I could tell I had a bruise forming on my ass from hitting the stairs. “This time I’ll let you carry them,” I said, getting off the stairs and kneeling opposite Finn. “Try to put everything back in the bin it came from, if you can tell what’s what. Not everything in here is dated, so I want to keep things together as much as I can.”
Finn scanned the papers around us. What had fallen on either side of him was easy to sort into piles. Everything that landed on top of him was a mess.
“Got it,” he said, scooping loose papers on his left side into a pile before setting them in the bin on the left.
I did the same on the right side, doing my best not to look at anything I picked up. Otherwise, I knew something would catch my eye, and we’d be here all day. I’d learned my lesson when Hope and I found the bins shoved behind an old dresser and I came across a journal kept by one of the day maids from the 1930s. I’d sat on the attic floor reading it for a good half hour, Hope beside me engrossed in a ledger, before we realized we were way behind schedule and hadn’t cataloged more than a few pieces of furniture.
We’d resealed the lid and resolved to get everything to the apartment once Nicky and I had moved out so we could spread it all out and see what we had.
I had most of the pile on the right side back in the bin when I looked up to find Finn’s face barely an inch from mine.
“Sorry about the bins,” he murmured.
I started to tell him it was okay, my lips parting to speak until his brushed against them, silencing me. That was okay. I’d rather kiss Finn than talk. I leaned in, feeling his hand come around to cup the back of my head, pulling me close, holding me as he tilted his head and kissed me deeper, his tongue stroking mine, his lips warm and firm, his kiss tasting of Finn.
A door closed down the hall in the family wing, and he eased back. I pressed my lips together, resisting the instinctive urge to follow him, chasing his mouth with mine. I had a million things to do, starting with getting these bins downstairs, but I could have kissed Finn all day. Though maybe not in a hallway where anyone could walk by.
Low enough that no one could overhear, Finn said, “I wanted to come by last night, but I thought you’d be exhausted.”
“I was,” I said truthfully. I left out the rest.
I couldn’t tell him I missed him. That I lay in my new bed, alone, and wished he was beside me. We had sex. Once. I wanted to have more sex. A lot more. And wanting all that sex felt so much less vulnerable than admitting that I’d missed him.
Instead, I said, “I won’t be exhausted tonight.”
His lips curved in a smile that sent heat blasting through me. “What time does Nicky go to bed?”
“He’s in bed by eight, but he isn’t really asleep until eight-thirty.”
“And what time do you go to bed?” he asked, his voice low and rough.
“By ten. Are you going to tuck me in?”
“Eventually,” Finn said, leaning to brush his mouth over mine one last time.
I ducked my head when he turned back to his bin, not wanting him to see my smile. I’d been mulling over how this was going to go. I wasn’t usually afraid to ask for what I wanted, but I hated the idea of asking Finn for anything.
I had to get over that. He was turning out to be a good man. As much as his kiss had set me on fire all those years ago, I never would have slept with teenage Finn. He was hot then, and an amazing kisser, but otherwise a total dickhead.