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He swallowed and opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Then he tried again. “This isn’t… this isn’t a casual hookup for me, and I just…” He turned away from me and blew out a nervous breath. “I guess I just wanted you to know that. I don’t… have sex often. I mean, I… sometimes have people blow me or whatever. Like, casually… Ugh.” He groaned and closed his eyes, shooting a hand into his hair in frustration. “This is so embarrassing.”
I gently removed his hand from his hair and placed it on my chest. “You can tell me anything.”
His face flamed deep red. “Never mind.”
I shook my head. “No. Tell me what you’re thinking or this doesn’t go any further. If you can’t trust me with your thoughts, you probably shouldn’t trust me inside your body.”
Why did I sound like an after-school special? I tried to soften the bossy-father tone. “Please, Finn. I want to know what you’re thinking and feeling. And just so you know, this isn’t casual for me. It hasn’t been from the very beginning. I can’t see how anything between us could be more than temporary, but it definitely doesn’t feel casual to me.”
The tension seemed to bleed out of him, and he smiled weakly up at me. “That’s how I feel, too. Exactly. I just didn’t want you to think…”
“That I was one of a million people you let into your bed. Into your body.”
He bit his bottom lip and nodded. “I don’t trust people easily.”
It made sense. Anyone lucky enough to get Finn Heller into bed might be tempted to turn it into an opportunity, especially if it was a onetime thing.
“I hope you know you can trust me,” I said as sincerely as I could.
He flapped his hand in the air between us. “Pfft. If there’s anyone who’s definitely not going to talk to a reporter about me, it’s you. I’m not worried about that.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
Finn met my eyes, and I suddenly knew the answer to my question. He was afraid of rejection. He was scared I was going to walk away. Again. The realization and the vulnerability in his eyes made my throat tighten.
“I’m here. I’m not leaving. You’re not leaving. I promise.” My words were thick and rough. “I promise.”
“You said last time—”
I cut him off because I couldn’t stand to hear it. “I… I got a call out, and then… things got crazy. And my head… I second-guessed myself, Finn. I…”
“Before that. You left. After I asked you about LA.”
The memory of that conversation set my teeth on edge. “I thought you’d had that house party. I told you.”
“You could have asked me about it.”
True, but that would have required a level of maturity I hadn’t had after he’d sucked me into a mind-melting orgasm. “You said you’d hooked up with that smarmy sidekick of yours.”
Finn’s face relaxed into a smirk. “I lied.”
“Thank Christ,” I said in a whoosh of breath before I could stop myself.
His grin turned even more smug. “I don’t mind a jealous sheriff. It’s kinda nice, actually.”
I scowled at him. “It’s not nice for me. I felt sick when I thought of you with that poser.”
He laughed. “Poser? The eighties called, they want their sick burns back.”
Finn’s grin was irresistible. I leaned in to nip at it. “I was born in the eighties, punk.”
“Old man alert,” he said on a laugh. I kissed him some more until we were back to panting and humping against each other.
His body was perfect, all smooth muscles and unblemished skin.
Unblemished skin. I blinked. “Where are your tattoos?”
He furrowed his brow. “What tattoos? Oh, my arms? Those are temporary ones for the film. They’ll put a new set on tomorrow.”
I stared at his bare arms, trying to reconcile the concept of temporary tattoos to the ink that had made its home on his skin all week. “Wow, that’s… that’s incredible. I thought they were real.”
“Not good for business, as my mom says. Takes too much extra time in the makeup trailer. Honestly, I think they only decided to give them to my character because I look like such a child. I’m not believable as a cop without some kind of hint of danger. Not sure the floral motifs are great for that, but they don’t pay me to have opinions about such things. One less item for me to have to make a decision about.”
I lifted up one naked arm and began kissing along the pristine skin, enjoying the few freckles scattered here and there that were only visible this close up.
I didn’t want to talk about the film anymore. I didn’t want Finn Heller the actor in bed with me. I wanted Finn Heller the sweet, semi-insecure man who picked the zucchini out of his stir-fry to eat first and who made a little mmm sound every time he took a sip of cold water.
