She was fucking beautiful.

  More so than my initial judgment.

  She had bright blue eyes, full lips, and a touch of freckles across her button nose. Her hair was straight and blonde. How could Patrick have mistaken her for anything less than incredible?

  She said nothing. And I said nothing.

  She did give me a small smile that only made the heat on my cheeks increase.

  “Finn,” Mrs. Jasmine interrupted. “Don’t just stand there letting all the cool air escape. Come in!”

  “Right,” I muttered.

  I took a step forward into the house, stepping past Lou as she held the door for me. My heart pounded in a heavy rhythm against my ribs. We were so close—her body inches from mine.

  “I brought wine,” I announced, handing my gift to Mrs. Jasmine. Something told me Lou wasn’t much of an alcohol drinker. But wine was always a safe choice. “Thank you for having me,” I said to Mrs. Jasmine.

  “You’re welcome. And this is lovely.” She inspected the bottle. “Would you mind texting Amanda for me, dear? Tell her dinner is at seven. I’ve yet to hear from Nick today. He’s being a pain in the ass. At this rate, there’s a chance it might only be the four of us.” She rolled her eyes and stepped away in the direction of the kitchen.

  I pulled out my phone. I did as Mrs. Jasmine asked. I texted Amanda.

  I’m here. At dinner with your boyfriend’s mother. Where are you?

  I slipped my phone back in my pocket, wondering for the briefest of moments why the hell I’d been told dinner was at six if it wasn’t until seven. I was a whole hour early. But that thought was forgotten as quickly as it had come. Because it was just me and Lou in the small hallway next to the front door.

  Her eyes were cast down. Her breathing was steady but audible. I decided these two things meant she was nervous. I made her nervous. And shit if that didn’t turn me on. I liked sex on an equal playing field. But Lou’s inexperience and innocence was suddenly the hottest thing.

  I wanted to show her…everything.

  I wanted to be her teacher. The teacher she’d asked me to be.

  I wanted to be the first man to put hands all over her beautiful, perfect body. No more skirting around everything that, I could see now, we both were feeling.

  I touched under her chin.

  Her eyes flickered up to mine.

  The heat that surged through me was unreal. Her eyes were like sapphires, and they burned into me. I moved my hand away. “Hi,” I muttered. “So we meet in person.”

  “So we do.”

  I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Are you okay with me being in the house like this?”

  She gave me a small nod.

  “What changed?”

  “Nothing. Some days are simply better than others. And I needed time to adjust to having a new person in my world.”

  “You’ve adjusted?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good.”

  “Finn!” Mrs. Jasmine called from the kitchen. “Can you come help me for a moment? I cannot get this jar open to save my life.”

  “One minute,” I called back.

  “I’m sorry about this,” she whispered. “That you were forced to come to this dinner.”

  “I wasn’t forced. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”

  She nodded, eyes falling down again. One day, I wanted her to look at me and not show this shyness. I sighed, wanting more time with her now to be able to start working toward my new goal. But it didn’t matter. I’d find a way to get her alone again later. Somehow. And until then, I could be patient. “Coming, Mrs. Jasmine,” I called out.

  ~ CHAPTER 23 ~

  LOU

  This was not going to work. This was not going to work. This man, and his muscles, and the rosiness to his cheeks—I never knew Finn had such a strong tell—were not going to give me any relief. He was helping Nick’s mom at the moment, mashing potatoes for her. Using those muscular arms of his, he whipped the potatoes straight into submission. I stood at the counter, watching him with wide eyes. He certainly knew what he was doing.

  Mrs. Jasmine noticed as well.

  “Who taught you how to cook?” she asked, impressed.

  He stopped moving. “I want to say my mother. But truthfully, I was always the one who cooked for her. So I guess she taught me the basics, and then I took over.” He took a breath and set the bowl down. “The potatoes are ready.”

  I hadn’t known Finn could cook. I just assumed he couldn’t when he always picked up takeout. Although, thinking back on it. I hadn’t even seen him eat any of the food he’d brought. He’d brought it over just for me, I realized.

  “Perfect.” Mrs. Jasmine reached behind her waist and untied the apron she’d been wearing. “I’m going to go freshen up before Amanda and Nick get here. Will you two just keep an eye on the roast while I’m gone? It should be fine for a minute.”

  She stepped away, leaving the two of us alone in the kitchen.

  She kept doing that.

  Leaving us alone.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted her to go. Finn blindfolded and at a disadvantage was one thing. Finn in person, with his eyes on me, was a whole different ballpark. I was sure I wasn’t anything like other girls he dated. And I know he could see that now. I bet he dated women who looked similar to Amanda. With pretty colored hair and inked skin. Nose rings and crimson lips. I considered myself pretty plain compared to everyone else I imagined him dating.

  “You have freckles,” he stated, resting a hand on the counter.

  I touched my nose. “A few. I stayed in the sun too much as a kid. And they never left.”

  I saw questions dance behind his eyes.

  “I didn’t have agoraphobia as a kid, no,” I answered before he could ask it. “It developed later.” I huffed, uneasy now. Needing something to do, I reached to open the oven. I planned to check on the roast inside.

  Finn blocked my arm by stepping in front of me. “Don’t open it. You’ll let the heat out and it isn’t done yet. And I didn’t ask. I didn’t ask about your past. I simply noticed your freckles.”

  “I could feel your questions.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “But you have questions. I know you do. You must.”

  “I won’t push you to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable. So even if we never talk about it—so be it.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “I mean, at the most basic level, isn’t that what agoraphobia is? Discomfort. Being uncomfortable. If that’s how you already feel ninety-nine percent of the time. I never want to be the one who adds to that feeling.”

  Well that was… thoughtful.

  I stared up at him.

  My mind flashed back to the other day. To Finn in my living room. To being alone with him. To getting to experiment with him. To testing things with him on my own terms. I liked that feeling. I wanted more of it. He had a calm way about him. A way that made me feel safe when I was with him. “You’re a good friend,” I told him. It was the truth. I’d said it before. As a person with only one friend in the world, the idea of having such an amazing second wasn’t something I took lightly.

  “Mmm,” he mused. He moved his hands up and locked his fingers behind his head. “You keep calling me your friend.”

  “Aren’t we?”

  A wave of vulnerability hit me. Weren’t we?

  “We are. My friend I want to…” He dipped closer to whisper in my ear. “Fuck.”

  My mouth dropped open in shock.

  Look at Finn. This gorgeous, muscular man. With his tattoos, his friendly eyes, and his easy smile. It occurred to me then that the version of Finn he was showing me was the polite version. Which wasn’t the version he showed other girls. He was wild. And I was getting the caged version. I discerned this all from one little word—fuck.

  “I should not have said that,” he mumbled to himself. He pulled back, turning away to stir the gravy Mrs. Jasmine had left warming on the stove. “I should not have said that,” he repeated.

  The doorbell rang. It was probably Amanda or Nick arriving.

  “Saved by the bell,” Finn muttered. Finn stepped past me and away from the stove. “I’ll get the door. I’m sorry about saying that.”

  He left me alone in the kitchen. The thing was—I wasn’t sorry he’d said that. Not in the least. I liked it. On so many levels. For the smallest of moments, he’d just opened that cage and let me peek inside.

  ~ CHAPTER 24 ~

  FINN

  Dinner was long. I was embarrassed and still embarrassed that I’d told Lou I wanted to fuck her. I mean, obviously I wanted to. Since kissing her, having her in bed was a place my mind kept going. But thinking about her naked and actually seeing her naked weren’t inside the same realms of reality. And I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable speaking to her like that.

  After dinner, I helped wash dishes. It was the least I could do. I hadn’t been invited to a family dinner like this in several years. Not even Christmases. I guess that was the result of me keeping everyone I dated at arm’s length.

  Nick and Amanda left soon after. Which didn’t surprise me, I knew they were working through the whole pregnancy thing. But it did shock me when Mrs. Jasmine said she was leaving as well. She and her granddaughter Samantha were going back to their beachside rental. I guess I’d assumed she’d been staying at Nick’s house.

  “Oh, okay,” I said like a stunned idiot.

  Mrs. Jasmine hugged Lou goodbye as if she were one of her own children.

  Which made Lou squirm.

  Then she hugged me.

  With everyone gone, Lou and I were now alone. I mean, seriously alone.

  All through dinner, we hadn’t spoken to one another. We’d barely made eye contact. Now, she locked the deadbolt and the doorknob. Then she stood on her toes to secure a chain at the top. She had me locked in.

  Not that I minded in the least. I just wasn’t expecting it.

  “Want to see my room?” she whispered.

  Holy shit. I wasn’t expecting that either.

  Heat prickled across my chest. I was still getting used to being around Lou in person. Being with her felt a little like déjà vu. Like I knew her on this personal level, so being with her was familiar, and yet simultaneously left me feeling like I didn’t know her at all.

  It was such an eerie feeling.

  The quiet house magnified the feeling.

  “Yes. Show me,” I answered.

  She led, and I followed. Her room was at the top of a flight of stairs. She opened the door, letting me in. Every corner of her room had books. They weren’t organized on shelves. They were in stacks and piles. I moved carefully, afraid if I knocked one over, all would fall.

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s a mess.” She sat on the edge of her bed. “It isn’t a mess to me. I have a system. But I’m sure it’s overwhelming to anyone else. Nick tells me it’s overwhelming.”

  I stared at her. I couldn’t believe she’d said that.

  “I guess I should tell you this.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them against her body. “Somebody else is probably going to mention it to you first. Nick or Mrs. Jasmine. I’d rather you hear it from me. But I lived in a library for years. I was homeless, and I lived in a library.”

  Part of me was still stuck on her comment about her book mess. But this confession about the library—blew my brain. “How many years?” I wondered.

  “Fourteen.”

  Fourteen fucking years!

  Why? How? Where were her parents? Did they live in the library with her? If not, then who took care of her? Who fed her? Did she go to school or to the doctor? Did she have a shower in this library? My concern shifted quickly into anger. Like, what the fuck? But I knew I couldn’t just explode with my questions. Lou hated questions. And now I had a million. But, seriously, fourteen fucking years?

  “The questions are dancing in your eyes,” she noticed, reading my mind. She let out a breath and flopped back on her bed. She crossed her arms over her face. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  She was right. I had questions, and I held them in.

  I stepped toward her bed. I sat beside where she lay. She uncovered her face as I did so. I leaned into her and with both hands I brushed the hair away from her face. I’d protect her. Someone obviously hadn’t when she was younger. I would. Or at least, I wanted to try. I carefully pressed my lips to hers, my heart cracking for her. My heart belonging to her.

  She accepted my kiss, letting me hover for a moment. Her hands moved to my neck, skimming across the surface. Her contact made shivers spread over me. “Touch me,” she whispered against my mouth.

  My heart dropped.

  I did not oblige. Instead, I moved to stand.

  She sat up. Her eyes were on me. “How many girls have you touched before? Been with? No judgement, I’m only curious,” she asked.

  I swallowed. “A good amount.”

  “Do you know the amount?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Ten.”

  “Higher.”

  “Twenty.”

  “Higher.”

  “So, touch me. Show me. Because I grew up alone but always watching other people. There were boys I had crushes on over the years. Boys who I knew like the back of my hand, and who never knew me. Or saw my face. Or knew my name. Who I watched share kisses and touches with other girls. Touches like that even. But never me.” She shrugged. “So touch me,” she repeated in a whisper. “Show me everything no one else has.”

  Goddammit, that was the moment I picked to be a gentleman?

  I wanted to touch her. Make her come on my hand and scream my name in that mesmerizing voice of hers. But for the first time in my life, I needed more from a relationship. I needed the promise of tomorrow, which I didn’t have. Despite all the times I’d reassured her that I wouldn’t ask questions, all I wanted was to ask her questions. To know her. Even a little bit. She had a wall surrounding her a mile high. I’d promised I’d be her teacher. I was nearly ready to revoke that promise.

  I cleared my throat. “How do you know Nick?”

  She stared at me. “I’ve always known him.”

  “Since birth or since childhood?”

  “A while.”

  “How long is a while?”

  “A while.”

  Fuck. See. This was exactly what I meant. “But how do you know him? How did you meet him?”

  “We’re from the same town.”

  “In Maine? Yeah, I gathered that. So, what, you met him at the library? Was he one of the boys you watched?”

  She looked down. Her shoulders moved in the smallest shrug. Was that a yes?

  “I want to know more,” I urged, my words as gentle as I could make them. “I need to know more. Not about Nick. But about your life. Why did you live in a library?”

  “What if I can’t give you more? What if I just can’t?”

  “Ever?”

  “Ever.”

  I took a breath, crossing my arms over my chest. “Then ask me a question. Ask me something personal. Fuck, about anything. I ramble about work. But I don’t even know if you want to hear it. You never ask about my life. About my parents. About anything. Do you know my age? Do you know where I’m from? If I went to college? My last name? Why I got into tattooing? Or that I lost my mom just before the end of high school, and I’m still not over it?”

  “I’m not going to ask you questions either.”

  I threw my hands up in the air. Livid. Hurt. More than hurt—crushed. Then I let my arms fall to my sides. “What do you want from me then?” Because I was two seconds from walking out her door and never looking back. “Sex?”

  ~ CHAPTER 25 ~

  LOU

  I didn’t know what to say. From the moment I first saw Finn, I’d stereotyped him. I saw this big, muscular, sexy, good-looking guy. With his tattoos. And his confidence. And because of all that, I thought he was a certain type of way with women. I thought he dated a lot and slept around a lot. He even told me that himself. That his relationships never lasted more than two weeks. That he got bored. So why was there pain on his face? Why did he care at all what I told him?

  I stood from the bed. I pressed two fingers into his chest. “I want you to treat me like anyone else. Like I’m not broken. The last girl you dated… The most recent one before me. Tell me about her. Tell me how that went.”

  “She was a yoga instructor.” He breathed out through his nose, glaring down at me.

  “And?”

  “And what do you want me to say? That we fucked a lot, Lou,” he growled. “That we did it all the time, Lou. That I made her come, you know, every single time we were together, Lou. That it was pretty great. Is that what you want to hear? That it was pretty great until I decided it wasn’t. Until I got bored and backed away.”

  My heart pounded. He thought I was so innocent, that talking to me in that sort of way would scare me, but he didn’t know how jaded I really was. How much I’d actually been through. And that his words couldn’t scare me.

  “I want you to treat me like that,” I admitted. “With none of your reservations.”

  He didn’t immediately answer.

  He rubbed a hand over his face, eying me, taking a step back.

  “I could handle it,” I told him.

  “Bullshit.”

  “Seriously.” I met his eyes without flinching. “Try me.”

  His chest rose and fell.

  “Can you handle this? If I make you orgasm. Then I get a question. An answer to a question. No half answers. No shoulder shrugs. But a real question with a real answer.”

  My whole body started burning. I shrugged like that wasn’t the most intimidating thing anyone had ever said to me. “Fine.”