Flynn's Kiss (Disarmed & Dangerous) (8 page)

The closest she’d ever come to this kind of humiliation was when she’d declared undying love to her math teacher at the age of thirteen. When confronted by his strange gasping noises and expression of utter horror, she’d run all the way home without stopping. The next morning her foster parents had told her, because of her unseemly behavior, she needed to go to another school. They were very religious, and she had humiliated them by thoughtlessly throwing herself at a happily married man, tempting him to stray from his vows. Unable to bear the humiliation of her corrupt and lascivious ways, they promptly returned her to the children’s home until more suitable foster parents could be found. She’d thought she would die of embarrassment.

She knew better now. Dying would be the easy way out. She had no option but to continue with her apology to Flynn so she could get out of there as soon as possible and before her hat started to look like an oven-ready chicken.

His face blank, he crossed his arms over his wide chest, leaned back on the porch rail, and waited.

She jerked in another painful breath.

“Anyway, considering the whole avoidance thing, I’m guessing you weren’t interested, and I thought I should apologize for my…enthusiasm…and my mistake. Please don’t be embarrassed to visit Jack and Kate. I’ll make myself scarce if I embarrass you.”

She fell silent as he moved, to give him a moment to say something. Then she realized he was resettling himself as though he was getting more comfortable to listen to her.

Stunned by his apparent unconcern and heartless silence, she made a half-turn to walk away, and then forced herself to face him again.

“You might also want to know…” She held a forefinger in the air. “One, I don’t make a habit of this sort of thing.” She held up a second finger. “Two, the last time I had sex was over eighteen months ago, and I’ve had a sexual health check since then.” Rolling her eyes in agony—after all, she probably hadn’t needed to confess how long it had been since she’d had sex, it made her sound even more desperate—she dropped her hands to her sides and squeezed them around the rim of the hat so hard she could feel her nails biting into the soft felt of the Stetson. “And…C. If I had known you were six years younger, I would never have embarrassed you with my unwelcome attention.” In the face of his continued silence, she whirled around, poised to run, and thought of one more thing she felt obliged to grind out. “Also, there’s no chance I can get pregnant.”

Then her feet flew and her breath sawed in and out as she charged toward her lodge at the other side of the woodland copse. Her cheeks burned with mortification.

Now, not only would Flynn be embarrassed by her actions the other night, but he probably thought she was a lunatic with her insistence in over-explaining herself. Once she’d opened her big mouth, she’d been unable to stop the verbal diarrhea spewing forth.

She came to an abrupt stop and leaned over at the waist to drag in a painful breath, hugging the Stetson against her heaving stomach. She raised one hand to her mouth to stop the wrenching gasps from escaping too loudly in the quiet as the heavy curtain of dusk came down.

“Oh no.” What a fool she’d made of herself. Not once, but twice. Stress spasmed a sharp pain through her gut, almost bringing her to her knees, a small sob escaped, and she clapped a hand harder over her lips. Dammit, she wasn’t weak. She was a strong woman, she’d been through worse.

She straightened, tapped the hat against her thigh twice, and watched as a few more yellow feathers fluttered to the ground, no doubt because of her rough handling of it. She stared in disgust. It was almost bald. Tufts of feathers were widely interspersed with threadbare patches. The poor hat had been ill-treated and had suffered badly. Almost as badly as she had suffered.

With slow, purposeful steps, she walked toward her lodge. There was nothing for it but to go home, sleep, wake up the next morning, and pretend nothing had happened. She straightened her shoulders, pushed her chest out, and moved her walk to a stride.

She had to make a decision on whether she was going to continue her research in New Zealand, and she needed a clear head, knowing once the commitment was made, she would have a further seven months of solitude. Perhaps it would be for the best. She was never going to be able to look Flynn in the eye again. Her human interaction skills were so poor, she should really just stick to communicating with micro-organisms.

Chin up, she reached her hand toward the door of her lodge and died a thousand deaths as a dark shadow whipped around from her side to behind her and snaked a steely arm around her waist. Before she had time to draw in breath, his solid muscular body pressed into her back and pushed her straight up against the closed door. The yellow Stetson gave a groan and a loud
whoosh
as the weight of her body flattened it against the door. A gruff male voice rasped in her ear.

“It’s me.”

She already knew. She could smell him, warm and musky. It didn’t slow her heartbeat down one iota knowing who it was. In fact, the rapid tattoo it beat out against her ribs seemed to echo double-time in the base of her throat.

“I have a couple of things I need to say.” His breath was a warm rush against her neck, sapping the strength from her bones. As her knees weakened, he jerked her body against his, and the abused Stetson dropped from her numbed fingers onto the floor at her feet. He squeezed his arm tighter around her waist and pressed in closer, until she could feel his rigid penis pressed hard against her rump. His hips surged upward, trapping her body against his.

“One, I wasn’t avoiding you or anyone. I had things to do and I like to be alone. Two …” He flattened his hand out across her belly as his other moved around to cup her breast, spreading warmth from his palm over her bosom. “I’m interested. Very interested.” His voice rasped in her ear as he stroked his palm down to the juncture of her thighs. At the same time, he gave a gentle squeeze of her breast, and the heat of his hands soaked through her clothes, her skin, her bones until she gave a desperate whimper.

“… and C…” He nipped the back of her neck and she collapsed, boneless, against the wooden door. “You’re only five years older than me, not six, but I like older women…they have more experience and…” His hand slipped down the inside of her jeans, and his fingers worked their way between her legs where her soft flesh was already swollen and wet. “…enthusiasm.”

Her teeth almost rattled as he popped the button on her jeans, whipped down her zipper, and slipped his fingers between her heated folds. Her eyelids fluttered, and she tipped her head back to rest it on his chest. She braced herself against him and attempted to push her hips forward, but he held her imprisoned as his fingers plunged deep inside her scorching center, sending her senses into spiraling, pulsating orgasm. Pinned between Flynn and the door, she was helpless to either move away or do anything to increase her own pleasure except let him control, and it was almost more pleasure than she could handle. She pressed her palms against the door and turned her fiery cheek to the side.

“Flynn.”

He withdrew his hand. Breath filled her lungs and exploded back out again as anticipation made her pant in short, sharp gasps. She’d had no idea there was more, wasn’t sure she could take any more.

He spun her around to face him, yanked her jeans down her legs, and before she knew it, before she had even realized, his own jeans were open and he was plunging, thick and pulsating inside her. His face tucked into her neck, his body pounded into hers, holding her a willing prisoner against the hard, smooth door. He stepped on her jeans and hauled her feet out of them. Her little sandals popped off and slapped onto the wooden floor while he grabbed her legs and wrapped them around his hips, never missing a beat, never losing his rhythm. He hammered inside her, fast and furious, his breath grunting deep in his throat.

Her head knocked as she tipped it back against the wood of the door and allowed him access to her neck. He cupped the back of her head in his palm to cushion it from further impact. Her pulse thundered, battling to stay ahead of the rhythm Flynn had set. Desperate and breathless, they raced blind to the summit, reaching it at almost the same time, exploding in unison. Holding still, exhausted and satisfied, they clutched each other for a long moment, allowing their hearts to settle.

Disappointment shuddered through her while he disentangled himself all too soon. He moved away to straighten his clothes and try to shake off her Stetson, which appeared to have somehow become firmly lodged on his boot. He stepped back and left her weak and sagging against the door.

“Another thing…” His voice wasn’t as stable as she imagined he wanted it to sound. Deep and husky with a definite hitch to it. A small smile curved her lips as she met his intense gaze, waiting for him to say something warm and romantic. “I’m clean too. I had tests.”

Before she had time to blink, he had gone, like a shadow into the night, leaving her limp and half-naked in the pitch black, leaning against a doorway.

“Oh, dear God.” She lowered the hand she had started to raise, peered around and hoped there was no one out there in the dark. She crouched, grabbed her belongings, and scoured around for the flattened yellow hat, all the time glancing up to check no one was around. When she couldn’t see it, she shoved her way through the door into the cool, dark, lonely room beyond, amidst a flurry of canary feathers floating from the clothes gripped tightly in her arms.

•●•

He slipped into his own solitary bed and lay, eyes wide, staring through the dark at the ceiling. By rights, after a work-out like that, he should have been fast asleep, but the curvy little woman filled his head, even after she’d left him satisfied. Not true. He wasn’t satisfied. His body was, but he’d been left with a deep emptiness.

Guilt was part of the problem. He’d just fucked the life out of her and left her leaning, half-naked against her door like an abandoned rag doll. He hadn’t even been chivalrous enough to check to see if she was all right. But the moment she’d lifted a hand to touch his face, her mouth mere inches away from his, his system shot into flight mode.

He shifted position, raised his arm, rested it across his forehead, and huffed out a breath.
Flight mode.
He snorted. He’d barely been able to command his weakened legs to stagger, never mind run. If she’d had good night vision, she probably would have laughed her ass off as he stumbled through the line of trees, her goddamned hat still attached to his foot as he tried to shake it loose, reaching out to steady himself as he bounced from one tree to the other.

His mouth twitched into a smile as he glanced at the three small yellow feathers on his bedside table. One had fluttered out from the side of his boot laces, where it had obviously been lodged when he’d accidentally pulverized her Stetson with his large foot, the other two had tickled the hell out of his thigh until he ripped his jeans back off and located them.

He let out a chuckle as he rubbed his chest and thought of the way he’d had to kick the squashed canary off his foot. Best damned thing that could have happened to the ugly hat. He’d put it out of its misery.

He let out a long sigh, closed his eyes, and pictured her.

She’d been so cute standing there explaining why she’d pounded on him a few days earlier, but he couldn’t think for the life of him why she imagined he wasn’t interested. Every time he so much as glanced at her, his dick jumped to attention. Even now, lying in bed when his body should be relaxed and satiated, the thought of Miss Liberty Sophia Glennon roused his body.

His smile grew even wider. No sex in eighteen months. No wonder she’d been—what was her word for it? Enthusiastic. He’d have called it desperate. Only she hadn’t been desperate for just any man. Those eyes of hers had given her away. She hadn’t been able to take them off him since the first moment she saw him. They’d been like beacons drawing him in, begging him for attention. Well, she sure as hell had gotten all of his attention. Twice now. And twice he’d walked away—or in this case, stumbled.

Women normally didn’t touch his face. If anything, they tended to avoid contact, both visually and physically. That was the problem. He wasn’t used to the attention, and Liberty didn’t seem fazed by his scars. He was, though. He couldn’t help it. It came from three years of bad experiences.

He wriggled uncomfortably as his body stirred. Perhaps he should go back, make sure she was okay, and see if she was up for a second round.

Or perhaps not.

He wasn’t sure of her reception and thought it might be better to let her cool down, find her dainty little sandals, and rescue the decimated hat, wherever it might be.

He chuckled to himself, rolled over onto his side, and tried to force his brain to quiet down, without success.

Not ready to give her up, he contemplated the best way to entice a little more sex from her, knowing he wanted her sweet, lush little body more than once. He let his mind wander through the possibilities of enticing Ms. Glennon. His eyes fluttered closed, his breathing regulated, but the smile still remained as he slipped into a deep restful sleep.

•●•