Part 9 (1/2)
She eyeballed his hair and the crease on his cheek where papers had been stuck to him. ”Living the wild life, huh?”
”The wildest.” He looked past her. ”So who's the fat cat?”
She turned and followed his line of sight to Thor, who'd curled up in a sunspot next to her box to doze. ”I'll have you know that's my fierce, very protective guard dog.”
”Dog?”
”Yes!”
He scratched his jaw while eyeing Thor speculatively. ”If you say so.”
”He protects me,” she said. ”In fact, he won't let anyone get near me. And don't even think about trying to touch him, he hates men.”
”Not me,” Finn said. ”Dogs love me.”
”No, really-” she started but Finn crossed the courtyard and crouched low, holding his hand out to Thor, who had opened his eyes and was watching Finn approach.
”Careful-” Pru warned. ”He's like you without caffeine, only he's like that all the time. He might nip-”
To her utter shock, Thor actually moved toward Finn in a flutter of bravery, his little paws taking him a step closer, his tail wagging in a hopeful gesture that, as always, made Pru's heart hurt.
Then, unbelievably, Thor licked Finn's fist.
”Atta boy,” Finn said approvingly in an easy voice full of warmth and affection. ”She says you're a dog, what do you think?”
Thor panted happily and rolled over, exposing his very soft, slightly enlarged belly.
”What's his name?” Finn asked, head bent, loving up on her dog.
She glared at Thor. ”Benedict Arnold.”
Benedict Arnold ignored her completely and she sighed. ”Thor.”
Finn snorted. ”A real killer, huh?”
”Yes, actually, he-”
And that's when Thor strained to reach up and lick Finn's chin. Pru couldn't exactly blame him, she wanted to do the same.
And then . . . her poor-sighted, man-hater of a dog climbed right into Finn's arms and melted like b.u.t.ter on a hot roll. Except minus the hot roll and add a hot guy.
”I can't believe it,” she said to herself, watching as Thor settled against Finn's chest like he belonged there, setting his head on Finn's broad shoulder.
”You were saying?” he asked on a soft laugh.
She stared at him, a little dazzled by the laugh. And then there was that stubble and she wondered . . . if he kissed her now and then nuzzled her throat like he had the other night, would it leave a whisker burn?
She wouldn't mind that . . . ”Do you have a dog?” she asked.
”No, but someday,” he said, reminding her of what Willa had told her, that he wanted a house outside the city and a big dog.
”So what are you doing today?” he asked.
She pointed to the box. ”Unpacking some more.”
”And you say I need a fun whisperer,” he teased.
”You were asleep at your desk,” she said. ”My statement stands. You most definitely need a fun whisperer.”
”I'll put fun on my calendar, how's that sound?”
She laughed. ”Planning the fun kinda takes the fun out of fun. And anyway, maybe it's also about adventure. Spontaneous adventure.”
”I don't know,” he murmured, watching her as he still stroked Thor into a pleasure coma. ”I can think of a few things that if planned right, would be the epitome of fun and adventurous.”
She lifted her gaze from her dog's contented face to Finn's and found his eyes warm and lit with something. Amus.e.m.e.nt? Challenge? ”Like?”
He set Thor down, back in the sunspot, and rising to his full height, s.h.i.+fted toward Pru.
She backed up a step, a purely instinctual move because while her body knew how badly it wanted him, her mind was all too well aware that it was a colossally stupid move of the highest order.
He merely stepped forward again, backing her flush to the brick wall lining the courtyard.
Her breathing had gone ragged. Even more so when he leaned into her with his hands on either side of her head. ”You're a contradiction,” he murmured. ”A push pull.”
”Maybe it's because we're oil and water,” she managed.
Hands still on her, blocking her escape-not that she wanted to escape those strong arms and that talented mouth-he flashed her a hot look. ”Do you want this, Pru?”
She wasn't one hundred percent certain what ”this” was, but she was one hundred percent certain that she wanted it. And G.o.d help her, she wanted it bad, too. When she gave a jerky nod, his hand came up and cupped her jaw, his fingers sliding into her hair, his thumb slowly, lazily, rasping over her lower lip. He watched the movement with a heat that made her legs wobble.
She swallowed hard. ”We're in the center of the courtyard.”
”What happened to adventurous?” he murmured, his thumb making another slow, intoxicating pa.s.s over her lip.
As always, her mouth worked independently of her brain and opened so she could sink her teeth lightly into the pad of his thumb.
He hissed in a breath. The sound egged her on and she sucked his thumb between her lips.
His eyes dilated to black.
Yeah. Suddenly she was feeling very . . . adventurous. Before she could stop herself, her arms encircled his broad shoulders, her fingers sinking into his hair.
This wrenched a low, s.e.xy ”mmmm” from him like he was a big, rumbling wildcat. A big, rumbly wildcat who clearly wanted more because he drew her up against him and lowered his lips to hers.
Meeting him halfway, she went up on her tiptoes. He slid a hand up her back to palm the back of her neck, holding her right where he wanted her. Then and only then did his mouth finally cover hers, his kiss slow and sweet.