Page 15 of Protecting His Finch

She stares at me for a minute, contemplative. Those honey eyes of hers have specks of green in them. “I want to clear the air,” she says suddenly, declaratively. “About earlier.”

“Earlier?”

“When you walked in on me in my bedroom.”

Now, my neck gets hot. We’re walking on ice here. If I start thinking about Finley on her back, legs splayed apart, hand tucked between her thighs, it’s going to become completely impossible to keep my hands off her.

“No need,” I say as I take a healthy swallow of wine.

“It wasn’t what you thought,” she continues. “I was working.”

“I see.” What?

“It wasn’t for pleasure. I mean, not…exactly. I was drawing. Getting accustomed to…it.”

“It. Your cunt?”

A blush rises up her throat now, and she turns away. “I prefer the term vulva.” She spins. She’s drunk. “Do you masturbate?”

I cough. “I’m sorry?”

She sighs. “I guess that’s a stupid question to ask a man. You never have any issues with your parts. Practically born tugging on the thing. And everyone is just blessed to be in its vicinity!”

“Why do you draw it?”

“Something’s wrong with mine.”

I knit my eyebrows. “Wrong?”

“It doesn’t work.”

“Have you tried turning it off and turning it back on again?”

“No! It’s…” She throws her hands around, exasperated. “I’ve never…had a grand finale. A toe-curler. A big O.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. When I draw things…break them down compositionally, it helps me understand them. Analyze them.”

She looks so intense now, her eyebrows furrowed, her lips a thin line.

I stroke my thumb over the stem of my glass. “Do you want my opinion?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think the problem is between your legs.”

“Are you a gynecologist now?”

“I have some experience.”

Wrong thing to say. She rolls her eyes and pirouettes away from me. “Why aren’t you pouring more wine?”

“Yes, miss.”

She sets her glass down on the oak barrel next to mine, and I refill hers. This conversation is making my blood hot, and I’m glad for something to do with my hands. But then Finley sways lightly on her feet, and her bare arm brushes against mine.

She drops her head, and some hair falls in front of her face.

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