His lips curved. “As apologies go, that was a damn good one, Brenna. You’re forgiven.”
She hadn’t realized how tight her chest was until she let go of a breath. “Thank you.”
“Now I need to ask you for something.”
“Okay.”
“When we have an argument—about anything—I need you to stay so we can talk it out, instead of walking away from me.”
She winced. “I do have a tendency to do that, don’t I?”
“You do.”
“I blame my first marriage on my tendency to bail. Mitchell and I would get into the worst arguments, and every time I tried to explain how I felt, he’d refuse to listen to my point of view. You can’t argue with someone who won’t hear your side of things. He’d drone on and on about his point of view, not at all willing to listen to mine. It got to be so unbearable that whenever we had a disagreement I’d just walk away.”
Finn picked up her hand. “The whole point of having an argument is so that both sides can air their grievances. That means you both listen, and then come to some sort of understanding. It shouldn’t be one person getting to air their side and refusing to listen to the other person. That’s not fair.”
She was so relieved that he understood. “No, it’s not fair. But that’s how it was. And it was tiresome.”
“No wonder you don’t like to fight.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You know,” he said, getting up to head to the fridge. He got out the food, then looked over at her with a smile. “A good argument can be healthy now and then.”
She stood and went into the kitchen. “Is that right?”
“Yeah. Clears the air.” He opened the containers and placed them in the microwave, set it and pushed the button. “You holler back and forth at each other, get everything out in the open so you each know what’s bothering you. If someone was in the wrong, they can—and should—apologize. Then it’s over and you kiss and make up.”
“You speak like you’ve done this a time or two.”
“Nah. Never had a long-term relationship with someone worth having a fight with, I guess. But my ma and da used to have some rows. Lots of fiery yelling back and forth.”
“Really.” She leaned against the kitchen counter. “And how did that work out?”
He shrugged. “Fine. They got it all out of their systems and then they’d tell me to go play outside for a half hour or so. I think they were having sex after that.”
She laughed. “So fight first, and then makeup sex?”
He took the containers out of the microwave and set them on the table. “See? Key to a happy relationship. And no one holds any resentments inside.”
Brenna had to admit Finn’s suggestion had merit. At least both sides could get their say. And she did like the idea of makeup sex.
She ate her dinner and contemplated how easily Finn had forgiven her outrageous behavior. He was like no man she’d ever known. Certainly nothing like Mitchell, who would have used their fight against her, reminding her time and time again how wrong she’d been.
But with Finn, he’d simply . . . forgiven her. And now it was over and forgotten.
She supposed she was going to have to get used to that. Maybe even adapt his philosophy to her own way of thinking. Because she was a lot more relaxed now.
“That was good,” Finn said once he ate every bite of chicken, asparagus and rice on his plate. He took a swallow of iced tea and took his plate to the sink.
She’d only eaten half of hers. “I’m finished with mine. Do you want more?”
He eyed her plate. “Maybe later.”
He took her dish and covered it, tucking it into the fridge.
Brenna cleaned the table while Finn washed the few dishes there were.
“I should go,” she said once he hung up the dish towel.
“Now why would you do that?”
She didn’t know why, other than they’d settled their argument and now she felt suddenly . . . she didn’t know what she felt.
You feel out of control around him, Brenna, that’s how you feel. And for someone who prided herself on always being in control, that was unsettling as hell.
But when he scooped his arm around her and drew her against him, she knew exactly how she felt. Warm, aroused and suddenly in no hurry to leave.
“I was kind of hoping we’d get to the makeup sex part of our argument.”
She arched a brow. “Oh. Did we have an argument?”
“Yeah. Yesterday. Want me to rehash it for you?”
“Unnecessary.” She swept her fingers over his chiseled chest, realizing how much she’d missed him.
It was only one day, Brenna. How much can you miss a guy in one day?
A lot, apparently.
She lifted up to press her lips to his. He grasped the back of her head and kissed her so thoroughly she felt that kiss all the way down to her toes.
She never knew her toes could tingle, but they did. And all her other parts as well.
This was what she had missed—his hands snaking down her back, his tongue sliding along hers, their breaths mingling in that desperate way that told her he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
This fierce desire coiled up inside her, filling her with a sense of urgency that wouldn’t be denied. She lifted his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin against her hand. He tangled his fingers in her hair, tugging her head back to rain kisses along her throat and collarbone.
She wore a loose, low tank top and he dragged it down, baring her chest. She had thrown on a demi bra after her shower and he drew the cups away to kiss and lick her breasts and nipples.
Her breath caught and her legs trembled, her focus only on the sensations his mouth and tongue evoked. Her sex throbbed with the need to have his lips and tongue on her.
“Finn.”
He lifted her up and carried her down the hall to his bedroom, put her down only long enough to strip off her clothes and his, then laid her on the bed, her legs dangling over the edge.
And then his mouth was on her sex, sucking her clit, his tongue taking her right to the edge—and then over. She came with a shuddering cry, her body racked with delicious spasms that seemed to go on forever.
Finn stood and grabbed a condom from the drawer, put it on and lifted her leg, then eased inside her. She was still pulsing, her pussy wrapping around him like a glove.
“Damn,” he whispered as he began to move against her.