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“Thank you, Finn,” I whispered, and even though I was still riled up because he’d provided the appetizer but no entrée or dessert, I actuallywastired.
Not because he’d woken me up, but because he’d given me some relief.
Then, hours later, when I woke up, I cursed because he was right.
Dammit.
My abdomen felt like I’d been kicked there, and I realized that even though we’d been as still as possible, my muscles must have clenched down as I orgasmed and that was as much of a workout as they were capable of.
“I knew I should have left you alone,” he ground out, and I realized he was hovering by the dresser, wearing pants, his bottom half fully shod, but his top half was bare, and he had shaving foam covering half his face—what a delicious sight. For a second, I was able to forget the pain. That was how beautiful this man was.
“No. I needed you.” And I had. It wasn’t much of a reconnection, but it was something, and where he was concerned, something was better than nothing.
He clucked under his tongue even as he was reaching for my meds. As he passed them to me, watched me drink them down, his tone was bitter as he stated, “I’ll throw the bullet away.”
“No!”
“Yes,” he ground out, and before my eyes, the bullet appeared from nowhere, and he threw it to the ground and stomped on it with his heel.
The sudden flurry of violence, first thing, stunned me. I gaped at him, gaped at the busted vibrator on the floor, then felt my anger stir inside me.
“What did you do that for?” I snarled.
“Because I want you to have a dose of pain with your pleasure, Aoife,” he grated, “but not the kind of pain that requires you dose up on codeine the next morning.”
My nostrils flared. “I needed to come.”
“No. You need to get better.”
“I know my body better than you do.”
“Apparently not, because you should have told me to stop last night.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Fuck, Aoife, I—”
My ears pricked up, waiting for him to finish the sentence. But he shook his head and turned away from me, gripping the sides of the dresser as he sought control.
I gaped at him, wishing he’d finished speaking, wishing… My phone buzzed, breaking into my reverie. I’d been so sure he was about to tell me he loved me.
I reached over, grimacing when the slight movement caused pain. He cursed under his breath and I realized he was watching me in the mirror over the dresser.
A few strides brought him to me, and he grabbed my phone. I guess it was an invasion of privacy for him to look, but I didn’t have anything to hide from him so I didn’t really care.
“Jenny,” he stated as he passed me the cell and retreated once more.
I watched him grab a belt and tuck it through the loops on his pants, waiting for him to speak, even as I wondered why he was half-dressed when his face was still loaded with shaving foam.
Finn had an edge about him. Sometimes, I just knew when he was calming himself down, but in this instance, I just wasn’t sure what had riled him up in the first place.
I eyed the text from my best bud, determined to answer it after Finn had left, and when I looked up again, I saw he was staring at me.
“When was the last time you heard from your dad?”
“Ten days ago.”
His nostrils flared and he tipped up his chin in understanding.
Hurt settled inside me, as I knew what the gesture meant. Was I surprised I hadn’t heard from my dad? Yeah. I was. I just hoped it was because he was busy. Finn, on the other hand, was far too cynical to let that reason excuse the Senator’s behavior.
When he’d buckled his belt, he returned to my side and asked, “Want me to help you to the bathroom?”
