fuck it was, had taken on a life of its own, but even crazier, I was okay with that.
Was okay with this need that was unfurling inside of me for her.
It was pitch black outside—that happened when you woke up at three AM—and in the distance, the city lights sent tiny glittering specks along her creamy form. I wanted to touch her. I always wanted to touch her. Wanted to connect with her, and not always sexually, either.
My heartbeat seemed to slow when I was around her, and so far, we’d done nothing but fuck and eat together. I barely knew her, and I wanted that to change. I wanted to know everything, and not from some fucking file, but from her lips. I wanted everything, the full story, in her words.
This craving to know all of her came as a slight shock. I never usually gave a fuck about any of my other lays, but everything about Aoife was unusual.
She shuffled in her sleep, dragging me from my thoughts, and carefully, I crept out of bed, not wanting to disturb her. Only whack jobs like me got up at this time of the night, but I had a schedule to fulfill and these nutty hours were a part of it.
When I padded over to the bathroom, I had to shake my head at the clothes I’d put in there before bed last night. Yeah. I didn’t want to disturb her so much that I’d begun anticipating the need to grab workout gear before I slept.
My throat tightened at whatever the fuck that meant as I pulled on a pair of basketball shorts and a shirt. I always dumped my sneakers in the gym, so I padded out, letting one long lingering glance drift over her resting form before I told myself to man the fuck up and get on with my day.
An hour on the treadmill loosened shit up, and with BBC World News on the box, I caught up with daily events around the world and monitored some of my personal investments. Switching gears helped. I had a lot of responsibilities, a lot of men to manage—some to even micromanage—and I didn’t have time to be constantly thinking about Aoife like some pock-marked teenager who’d just figured out what his pecker was for.
By the time I finished running, I’d stripped out of my shirt and tossed it on the ground after wiping my torso down with it. Stepping over to the dumbbells, I started my free weight workout, and then, I jerked in surprise because in the mirror, as I watched my form for accuracy, I saw her there.
Watching me.
I hadn’t felt her presence, and in my job, that was the first lesson—environmental awareness was the difference between you getting shot in the head and walking away free and clear.
She was wrapped in a sheet, looking like a siren come to invade my thoughts after I’d only just cleared them.
I wanted to be mad at her, but shit, it wasn’t her fault, was it?
“I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Fuck, could that have sounded any grumpier?
Her cheeks flushed as she realized I’d caught her, and I had to grin. Turning around to mute the TV, I cocked my head at her when I faced her once more. “You okay?”
She licked her lips. “It’s always surprising how . . .” Hesitation hit her, and she cleared her throat before blurting out, “big you are.”
I couldn’t stop myself from snorting. “Music to any man’s ear.”
“Oh, hush,” she chided. “You know what I mean.”
“I do. Exactly.” I grinned and saw her eyes start to twinkle at my teasing. “Feel free to work out in here if you want, Aoife. I should have offered before.”
“I don’t really do gyms.” She ducked her head. “I guess that shows, huh?”
I scowled at that. The last thing I’d intended was to make her conscious of herself. I’d just wanted her to know that mi casa es su casa. Striding over to her, I grabbed her chin and forced her to look at me. “Have I ever made you feel like I wanted to change how you look?”
“You’ve only known me ten days, Finn,” she said wryly, but there was some color back in her cheeks.
“Well? In ten days, have I done anything other than worship your body?”
Her voice was small. “No.”
“Well, then. This gym, use it, don’t use it. Look out of the window if you want or pilfer the fridge for Gatorade, I don’t give