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“Control…power…it’s earned, sweetheart.” He pressed his erection into her stomach. “And you’re going to show me just how much you want control. Starting with your lips on my—”
The door opened, shoving her forward into him.
“Seriously?” Cal stood on the opposite side, his face curled up in a sneer. “At work? It’s bad enough I had to walk in on you in my own house.”
She drew herself up. “What I do in my house, in my bedroom, is none of your business,” she told him curtly.
“And considering this is my restaurant, I can screw whoever I want in it, wherever I choose.”
She gave Finn a shocked glare.
“You let him talk about you like that?” Cal asked.
When she didn’t answer, he stormed off, forgetting to get whatever it was he’d come to fetch in the storage closet.
“Do you have to say those things to him?” She hit Finn in the chest.
“He’s an adult. Unfortunately, we have to deal with him knowing about us, and since he does, he should know the unvarnished truth.”
She stared up at him expectantly. “What exactly is the truth?”
“That we’re two consenting adults who can do what we damn well please.” Finn touched her cheek. “Our relationship, or temporary arrangement, or whatever you want to call it, is none of his business. It’s no one’s business.”
Not Cal’s. Not Mark’s. Not his brothers’. But unfortunately, the more time Finn spent with Veronica, the more he longed for this temporary arrangement to move into the “something more” category. Their weekend away had only solidified his feelings for the woman who was his perfect match in the bedroom. But he couldn’t have his cake and eat it, too. He knew that. Anything more with Veronica would only lead to heartache. His heartache.
When her lips parted but she didn’t respond, he said, “We’ll continue this discussion another time. We should get back to Jack and Sterling.” He had forgotten how they ended up in this closet in the first place. He tipped up her chin. “I’ll even let you stay for the rest of the tasting.” He winked. “What do you say?”
It wasn’t exactly in his best interest to invite her to stay. Not after they’d been interrupted by Cal, and definitely not when he was unable to follow through with the sweet-dirty activities his brain and his body craved. Damn. He’d wanted to do things in the closet that would melt the warning labels off the cleaning products.
“So generous of you.” The sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable, even without the tongue she stuck out at him.
He could think of much better uses for her tongue.
Back at the table, Sterling and Jack were sharing bites of their food. Sterling did most of the talking. Jack was sitting back against the bench, clearly aware his opinion didn’t matter. Every decision was ultimately Sterling’s, and not because she wore the pants in that relationship, but because her adoring groom demanded she get the wedding of her dreams. And so did Finn. They both deserved it.
Every once in a while, between picking at the food on her plate, Veronica looked in Finn’s direction, and when their eyes met, she’d quickly look away. His first reaction was to ask if she didn’t like his cooking, but had a feeling her lack of appetite had nothing to do with tastiness.
“What do you think, Veronica?” Sterling asked.
Her eyes shot up. “Um. I think you have a lot of lovely choices here.”
Sterling turned in her seat. “Well, what’s your favorite?” she asked.
“I…” Her mouth parted, but again no words came out.
He already knew what she would pick. She had been a steak lover since she was a kid and it had continued through her adult life. But she was still super annoyed with him.
“She won’t answer you, Sterling,” he said wryly. “That would mean she’d have to give me a compliment by saying she actually likes one of them.” He leaned back against the booth and laid the napkin he’d been fiddling with on the table. “But she picks the steak.”
She shot him a death glare from across the table.
When he looked over at his brother and Sterling, they were giving each other the eye. They were obviously picking up on the fact that something was going on between Finn and Veronica. Something besides the lame fight about him going above her head as the wedding planner. He had no doubt Sterling had spilled the beans to Jack, which meant Penn had spilled the beans to Sterling about what she’d walked in on the other day.
Such drama for such a small family.
“Well, I’m loving the pasta,” Sterling said around a mouth full of fettuccini. “It’s my favorite, but I know people will be expecting meat.”
“What do you want, sweetheart?” Jack leaned across the table and grasped her hand.
