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And have him be reminded of how hard it was for me to still get out of bed? No way.
I shook my head as he crouched down beside me—even that, he did for me. He couldn’t sit on the bedside, not without hurting me.
Reaching over, he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry about last night, Aoife.”
Glowering at him, I grumbled, “Don’t be. It felt good. Yes, it aches now, but it was worth it.”
His nostrils flared again, his disagreement apparent.
“What are you doing today?”
“Trying to find us our peace.”
I tilted my head to the side as I took in the beautiful features that were half-covered with white foam, and I realized I must have moaned in my sleep before I woke up. He must have been in the middle of shaving when he heard me and came to see if I was okay.
“You know how you’re going to do that?” I asked quietly, touched by his concern for me.
He winced. “Might involve one of the brothers getting married.”
A snicker escaped me, and his lips twitched at my laugh. “I shouldn’t laugh,” I said apologetically. “But they’re all so unashamedly single.”
“That’s why this is actually the answer to Aidan’s prayers,” Finn said on a sigh. His knees tipped forward so he was kneeling on the floor beside the bed. I closed my eyes as his mouth hovered over mine for a second, and I could scent minty fresh breath and foam.
He pecked me on the lips, nothing like what I wanted or needed, and I giggled as he got foam on my nose and chin.
“There, now you can shave if you need to,” he teased.
I squinted up at him. “Are you saying I need to shave my moustache?”
It was his turn to snicker. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“Finn?”
He reached for my hand and kissed my knuckles. “Yes, baby.”
“I’m sorry if I’m whining.”
A scowl creased his brow. “Fuck, Aoife, you’re not. Jesus, I’m lucky you’re talking to me.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’ve—” He shook his head. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Bull.”
A smile had his lips curving. “Bull, huh?”
“Yeah. Bull.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed his fingers. “Will you—” I licked my lips. “Will you look after yourself out there?”
“I will,” he said, and even though I wanted him to promise, I knew he couldn’t.
My throat felt thick as I asked, “Who was the Russian, Finn? What was he doing?”
“You know you’re not—”
I jerked his hand. “He came intoourhome, Finn. Who. Was. He?”
He sighed. “He was on our side. He stopped one of the Colombians from infiltrating the apartment and was making sure he hadn’t missed another one.”
Well, shit. That didn’t exactly make me feel better.
A shudder washed through me, and with it, came the dull throb of pain.
