All the Way (Romancing Manhattan #1)(53)

I happily oblige him, lying on the comfortable sofa and resting my head on his lap. He drags his fingers through my hair, making my eyes drift shut.

“The city is pretty at night,” he murmurs.

“Hmm.”

“Are your eyes closed?”

“Oh yeah.”

He chuckles. “You should sleep, London.”

“You went to all of this trouble, and I’m going to sleep through it.”

“It’ll be here in the morning.”

I just can’t keep my eyes open. His fingers feel like heaven in my hair, and I’m just so exhausted.

“Didn’t sleep without you.”

“You didn’t sleep well without me?”

I shake my head no.

“That makes two of us, baby.”



I stretch and yawn, loving the way the crisp sheets on Finn’s bed feel against my naked skin. I haven’t opened my eyes yet, but the sun is warm on my face, the bed is comfortable, and I smell bacon.

My eyes fly open.

I smell bacon.

I glance around and frown, then reach over to feel the bed where Finn was. It’s cold. He’s been up for a while.

I check the time and gasp.

It’s after ten in the morning.

I slept straight through from falling asleep on Finn’s lap on the roof until now. And I’m starving.

I climb out of bed and walk into the bathroom to do my business. There’s a white T-shirt of Finn’s sitting on the vanity with a note.

This is for you, my love.

The man is seriously sweet.

I pull the shirt on and pad out to the kitchen, rubbing my eyes as I go. I sit down and brace my chin in my hand as I watch a shirtless Finn work around the kitchen.

And what a show it is!

His back is to me. He’s moving effortlessly from the stove top to the fridge, chopping vegetables and whisking eggs.

Shirtless.

Did I mention he’s not wearing a shirt?

It’s something to write home about. His faded blue jeans sit low on his hips, giving me a glimpse of the dimples above his tight ass. His skin is dark and smooth, and his muscles are aplenty.

God bless him.

“Good morning,” I say, getting his attention. He turns to smile at me.

“Hey there, sunshine. Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, I slept.” I push my hair over my shoulders. “In fact, I slept so hard I don’t remember you carrying me down here or getting me naked.”

“Really? You don’t remember the hot, screaming sex we had at about midnight?”

“Uh, no.”

“That’s because we didn’t have any.”

He laughs and pours the eggs into a skillet and begins to scramble them.

“Who brought all of the flowers down?” I lean over and press my nose into a bloom, breathing in their fresh scent.”

“I did.”

I stand and walk around the island so I can wrap my arms around him from behind and lay my cheek against his back. “You know I love you too, right?”

He turns and smiles at me. “I know.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it last night. I think I was gobsmacked.”

“It’s okay.” He kisses me and boosts me up on the countertop so I’m out of his way. “You were tired and surprised.”

“I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t.”

“Because I wouldn’t ever—”

“London.” He comes back to me and leans in to kiss me, long and slow, before just resting his lips against mine. “I’m fine. I’m glad you feel better. And I love you.”

“I love you.”

He kisses me once more then returns to the task at hand.

“Now, what do you want to do today?”

“The movies might be fun.”

He bursts out laughing. “What’s up with all of the women in my life wanting to go to the movies all of a sudden?”

“Who else are you taking to the movies? Be very careful with that answer.”

He shakes his head. “My mother asked me to take her the other night.”

“That’s sweet. What did you see?”

“Deadpool.”

I stare at him in horror. “You took your mom to Deadpool?”

“It was that or some scary alien shit, and I knew she’d have none of that. Aside from the language, I think she enjoyed it. She laughed a lot, and she said that Ryan Reynolds is a looker.”

“Well, he is.”

“Even with the scars?”

“We all know the scars are makeup.” I shrug and then laugh when he just stares at me. “What? It’s Ryan Reynolds.”

“Good to know that you and my mom like the same celebrities. Wait. Does this mean you might work with him one day?”

“He does mostly action and romantic comedy. I’m a musical girl, so probably not.”

He hitches a hip against the countertop, pointing a spatula at me. “What if you got a call from your agent that he wants you to read for a part with him?”

“Unlikely.”

“Just humor me.”

I pop a strawberry in my mouth and think it over. “Well, I’d probably do it.”