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And I’m getting the sense he wants to know I think that. “A very sexy forty,” I add.
“And you are…?”
“A no-longer-virginal twenty-five,” I say.
His eyes gleam with possession and pride.
“And I got to be the one,” he says, and I love that he seems as pleased by that as I am.
* * *
Soon, the food arrives, and after he pays and thanks the guy, he gestures to the stairs. “Want to eat on the balcony? It’s my go-to dining room on warm nights. I call it my outdoor café.”
No fucking way.
But I don’t want Finn to read this part of me. I absolutely don’t want to admit to him that I have OCD. So I try my hardest to put on an easy smile. “Kitchen is fine,” I say, breezily. “I mean, I’m half-naked.”
Like that matters. But maybe it’ll distract him from asking more.
Something flashes in his eyes, though, as he opens the fridge. Something like understanding. “I should have remembered. You don’t like heights?” he asks, grabbing a jar of chili flakes.
Oh.
Wow.
He remembers the rooftop, and how I said no to it. I cycle through my options—I could deny, or I could make light of it. But he’s been open when I’ve asked questions about his son and about his best friend.
I want to give him a morsel of honesty in return. “You’re right. I really don’t like heights.” That’s a true thing. I won’t share the scope of my dislike. That’s part of the side of me that goes to therapy, the side my family doesn’t even know about.
“That must be really challenging,” he says thoughtfully as he sets the flakes on the counter. How is this guy a sex masterandsuper understanding?
“They make me really uncomfortable,” I admit. Apparently he has truth serum powers too. “They kind of freak me out.”
Wow. That was…sort of cathartic. I didn’t know I’d needed to say those words.
Irrational fears are so embarrassing. So hard to admit. But a tiny weight’s been lifted now.
“Is it just heights outdoors? Or was my third-floor bedroom uncomfortable for you too?” he asks, and I rush to reassure him.
“Bedrooms are fine. Indoors is fine. It’s just things like balconies, bridges, and rooftops.”
“I get that. I do. Everyone has fears. We all have things we try to avoid just because…And it works just as well to eat here,” he says with kind eyes and a welcoming smile.
That’s not at all how he looked at me when he was seducing me. That’s not how he looked at me when he fucked me either.
It’s a new look, and it makes my heart speed up. How is it possible that in a few short encounters, I’ve glimpsed so many of his sides? His determined side, his hungry side, his dominating side, his loyal side, and then his guilty pleasure side that saidfuck the world, I want her more.
Now I’m seeing another side, and I bet this is the man he is with his son. Kind, thoughtful, big-hearted, and accepting.
“I guess that’ll be our secret too. My fear of balconies,” I say, and I’m sure this one is as safe with him as the others.
“I’ll keep them all, Jules. Every single one,” he says, and there’s resignation in his voice.
In my heart too.
He hands me a plate, and I scoop some noodles onto it, but when I open the jar of chili flakes, I arch a brow, then show it to him. “Empty.”
He peers inside. “Then these noodles better be spicy on their own.”
