“Better be careful. You keep doing thoughtful things for people and you’ll blow your reputation as a narcissistic child.”
“Aye, that would be tragic.” He lowered himself to sit behind her. He slid a leg either side of her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders to pull her back against his chest.
Abby was snug in his embrace, warm against the chill night air. It felt like a scarily normal place to be.
Flynn rested his chin on her shoulder. “Everyone’s gone home.”
She’d noticed the last car leave, followed closely by the police van from Fort William. Jena had told her about the people shooting up in Flynn’s home—just one more violation to process.
“What did your sister say? Does she plan to advise your mother to file for custody?”
Abby shrugged. “I don’t know. She didn’t tell me. She was acting strangely.” Abby paused as she thought about earlier when she’d walked Lawrence and Victoria to their car. “She put her fingers to my cheek.”
Flynn stiffened. “She hit you?”
“No, I think it was a caress. Her version of a hug. She didn’t say anything, though.”
Flynn relaxed again. “Maybe it was her way of apologising for throwing you under a bus with your mother.”
“I don’t know what it was.” She stared out into the darkness as Flynn held her close. “I know this sounds weird, but it kind of felt like an apology.”
They sat silently, soaking each other in, letting their minds order themselves in the peace of the night.
“Mitch and Lawrence couldn’t stop the TV production companies using the footage from today.” He sighed heavily. “It’s my fault. I signed a stupid contract. I didn’t think.”
“To be fair, your agent and lawyer railroaded you into a deal that was lucrative for them. You were out of your mind on pain meds when you signed the contract. So it isn’t entirely your fault. Not this time, anyway.”
Flynn twisted to look down at her. “How do you know about this stuff?”
“Matt and Mitch. They did some digging and were talking about it. I was making tea. People always assume the folk making tea are invisible. Well, except for the Montgomery-Clarks. We were raised to remember servants had ears and weren’t to be trusted.”
“Servants, huh?”
“It sounds great, but trust me, it isn’t. Most people only think about the fact they don’t have to cook, or fetch their own dry cleaning, or tidy their bathrooms. They forget there are always people watching, listening, waiting. It’s impossible to ever completely relax. You’re always on guard.”
“I can see the pitfalls. No running around the house naked when the feeling strikes.”
She laughed. “Not unless you want to pay the medical bills when the staff have heart attacks.”
“We had a servant too,” Flynn said, but she could hear the teasing in his voice. “She did all the cooking, cleaning and fetching. Was really efficient until she deemed us old enough to do it ourselves.”
“Ah, the joys of motherhood.” Abby smiled wryly. “I know them well.”
Flynn nuzzled the side of her head, making her snuggle into him. “You know, you’re doing good as a mother. With the kid, I mean. She isn’t as annoying as she could be.”
Abby couldn’t stop her laughter. “High praise, thank you.”
“Okay,” Flynn grumbled. “That came out wrong. She’s okay, you know. She’s kind of growing on me. She’s pretty funny and more than a little evil. We’d get on great if she wasn’t so obsessed with painting the Premier League pink.”
“You’re peas in a pod.” Abby shook her head with amusement. “You share the same mental age and know exactly what buttons to push to wind each other up. It’s quite entertaining to watch. I’m never quite sure who’ll come out on top.”
“I will, Abby. You can count on it. There’s no way I’m letting a five-year-old get the better of me.” Flynn’s outrage made Abby chuckle.
“Be sure to tell her when she wakes up.”
Flynn ran his fingers along Abby’s arms in an absent-minded caress. “Katy asked me if I was staying the night again tonight.”
Abby heard the question in his voice. She bit her lip as she thought it over. The cat was already out of the bag where Flynn was concerned. Really, there was nothing else they could do to make matters worse in her mother’s eyes. But did she want him to stay? Did she want him in her bed? The answer was a no-brainer. Ill-advised or not, she definitely wanted Flynn in her bed.
“Two nights? Are you sure you can cope with such a commitment? I thought this was a casual fling.”
“Do you have any idea how many people have told me you don’t do casual? Even if they hadn’t, I would have figured it out for myself.”
Her heart tried to climb out of her throat. “So, this isn’t casual?”
“Abby love, this is something I can’t define. It isn’t like anything I’ve experienced. I don’t know what’s going on here. I don’t know where this is heading.” He shifted her until she sat sideways in his arms, her legs over his thigh, her back resting on his other thigh. “All I know is I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to go home alone. I want to spend the night with you in my arms. I want to touch you and taste you and breathe you in. And in the morning, I want to listen to you and the terrorist argue about something stupid over breakfast. I don’t know where we’ll be tomorrow, or next week or a year from now. I do know I want to be around you all day long, just so I can touch you when I want. And so I can catch those secret smiles you flash at me when you think no one is looking.”
With his words, he cracked her chest wide open and made a place for himself right beside her heart.
“So, this definitely isn’t casual, then.”
“Not for me.” He ran a finger lightly across her cheek, over her jaw and down her throat. “Not for you, either. But I can’t give you any guarantees on the future. I don’t know what it will bring. You might wake up tomorrow and decide I’m not worth the effort.” He grinned. “Although I plan to make myself so invaluable in bed you wouldn’t dare.”
“Invaluable, huh?” Her eyes went to his full lips.
“Totally.” He flashed his sexy smile, which undermined her thought process. “I have skills you haven’t experienced yet. You’ve barely touched the tip of this iceberg.”
“Mmm.” Her eyes were still locked on his mouth.
Flynn’s smile remained in place as he trailed his hand slowly across her collarbone and under the blanket to skim her breast. Her breath caught as his hand tested the weight. His thumb stroked the tight peak of her nipple through her dress. Abby felt the world fade away. She nuzzled the crook of his neck, breathing him in. How could he do this to her so easily? Each time he touch her, it made her step through a door to another place. A magical place. Where only Flynn existed.
“Give me your lips, sugar. I need to taste you.” His voice was rough and deep. Pure sin to her ears.
She peeked up at him through thick lashes as she angled her face towards him.
“Beautiful.” With reverence, his head bent and his lips claimed hers.
Touching Abby, kissing Abby, made Flynn want to beat his chest and roar. He wanted every touch on her skin to turn into a brand, letting the world know she was his. An overwhelming need to imprint himself on her soul beat at his mind. A relentless drum. Insistent he claim her. Own her. Keep her. Every time she melted into him, he became drunk on the power to make her giddy. It was addictive. She was addictive. As he held her close, felt her respond—he knew he would never get enough of her.
A cool breeze teased hot skin as Flynn deepened the kiss. She tasted like lemonade and warm summer days. She tasted like Abby. He clasped her tight against him, but it wasn’t close enough. He felt he’d never get close enough to Abby, but he desperately wanted to spend a lifetime trying.
“Come with me.” It was a primitive demand.
She blinked, her movements languid, her gaze hot with need. Flynn nipped her bottom li
p then soothed the bite with his tongue. Everything about her was summer for him. The heat of her skin, the heady scent of florals, the taste of relaxing in the sun.
It took great self-control to stop kissing her long enough to help her stand. She grasped his hand tight and headed for the door to the kitchen.
“No,” he said. “Over here.”
“We’re not going to bed?” Her disappointment was sweet.
“Something better.” He tugged her towards the old wooden swing seat tucked under the porch eves.
Flynn sat in the middle of the swing, his feet firmly on the deck, keeping the seat steady. Abby moved to sit beside him. His hands grasped her waist to stop her.
“Take your underwear off and straddle me.”
She gasped. Her eyes darkened. “Flynn? You can’t mean…” She looked around, into the darkness. The sounds of the night made the moment seem even more intimate.
“We’re alone. Don’t worry. Even if someone was here, they wouldn’t see anything.” He stared into her wide, expressive eyes. “Trust me.”
She blinked several times. He watched as her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. Slowly, she pulled her hands out of his and reached up under the full skirt of her dress. Flynn stopped breathing. Abby’s eyes never left his as she removed her white lace panties. In the muted colours of night, he couldn’t see her darkened cheeks, but he knew they were there.
“Come here, Abby love.” He reached out for her, and without any hesitation she climbed onto his lap.
Her knees sat snug either side of his hips. Flynn wrapped one arm around her waist, and the other he wove into her hair, clenching it tightly as he angled her mouth towards his. The stiff set of her back melted at once. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed into him.
Flynn let the swing sway as he trailed his lips over her throat. He felt her fingers dig into his shoulders. His hand cupped her breast through her dress and he kneaded, making her groan.
“Please,” she whispered. The word seemed to echo through the night.
His head lowered and he bit her nipple through the material.
“Please, Flynn.”
“Kneel up.” He held Abby at the waist, guiding her exactly where he wanted her to be.
Flynn held her tight with one hand as he flicked open the button on his jeans with the other. A second later, he lowered Abby onto his length. Her head fell back and Flynn nuzzled the crook of her neck. Heartbeat by agonisingly slow heartbeat, he joined with her. Their bodies pressed flush against each other, their limbs wrapped tight. They were one body. The rightness of which made Flynn groan.
Using his toes, Flynn rocked the swing. Abby’s little whines sailed into the darkness as her hips began to move in time to the rocking swing.
“Perfect,” he said.
He moved them faster as his lips found hers. He kissed to consume as their bodies swayed together in a rhythm intended to push them higher into the oblivion of ecstasy.
Abby broke from his lips, gasping. “I need, I need…”
Her eyes closed, her mouth open. Her cheeks dark with passion. Her body vibrated with his touch. She moaned and moved erratically against him.
“Shh, I know what you need,” he murmured.
His hand slid down between them to caress her secret spot. Her breath stuttered. With one loud moan he felt her explode in his arms. The beauty of it pushed Flynn over the edge after her. His body clenched, his muscles became unbearably taut and he roared his release.
Abby collapsed into his arms. Flynn held her tight against his racing heart. He kissed her hair. His head fell back against the swing. His fingers traced lazy circles on the small of her back.
For a few moments they swayed gently in place, listening to the stream trickle by in the distance, picking out the gentle hoot of an owl, the snuffling of animals in the undergrowth. The heady scent of night flowers floated over them on a cool breeze, soothing their heated skin. Abby shivered and he wrapped her tighter. Loath to let her go.
“I really need a shower.” Abby paused. “And a snack.”
Flynn tried not to laugh out loud, but she must have felt his chest shake under her cheek.
“What’s so funny?”
She sat back to look at him. The pout was endearing. He trailed a finger down her cheek.
“You.” He grinned. “You’ve got to stop being so romantic after we make love. I can’t cope with it.”
She frowned. “I wasn’t being romantic.”
Flynn laughed. “I know. Last time you offered me tea and cake; this time it’s a shower and a snack. My ego can’t cope with all the praise you heap on me.”
“Idiot.” She smacked his chest.
“Your idiot.” The words were out of his mouth before his brain had a chance to vet them.
They stilled. The silence loomed around them. Abby’s eyes were wide as she stared at him. He couldn’t quite read the expression in them. He was too busy coping with the fact his heart was beating like mad and his palms had started to sweat.
“Are you?” she said at last. “Mine?”
Flynn leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers.
“Would it freak you out if I said I was?” Because, even though it scared the life out of him, he couldn’t get past the resounding rightness of the words. He was Abby’s.
“A little bit,” she whispered, but her hold tightened on him.
“Then forget I said it.” Flynn smiled at the possessiveness of her hold.
“I might be yours too,” Abby whispered.
Flynn froze. “Fuck me,” he breathed.
“Yeah,” Abby said.
His hands clenched on her hips and he kissed her hard.
33
“Actually, I never make a mistake, because it takes a huge effort for me to be wrong.”
Johan Cruyff, Dutch national player
She was a coward. Victoria would have laughed at herself, only she’d forgotten how to laugh a long time ago. Of course she was a coward. She’d always been a coward. This idea was just the latest incarnation of an inborn trait.
She eyed the phone in her hand, then the door in front of her. She resisted the urge to chew her bottom lip. Ladies did not do such things. Instead she placed one perfectly manicured hand on her roiling stomach and focused on breathing in and out.
Everything was crumbling. It was all falling down around her. She felt as though she was in an earthquake zone. The ground beneath her feet wasn’t stable any longer. The walls she’d built were cracked. Each day brought more aftershocks. Her world was coming down.
And this was the proof—she wanted to lean on someone.
Not someone—Lawrence. Victoria counted her breaths as her blood thundered through her veins. It had been almost thirty years since she’d last let someone close to her. Since she’d last trusted anyone. Thirty long years since she’d had anyone to give her strength. And now there was Lawrence. Offering everything she’d never dared hope to have. Making her dream again.
She let out a long, silent breath. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t knock on the door. She couldn’t ask him to stand with her while she spoke to her mother. It was cowardly. What kind of woman needed support to talk to her own mother? Coward. She was a coward.
And yet…
Was it so wrong to need someone? So wrong to ask for help? Was it a sign of weakness to need support? Lawrence didn’t think so. Abby had no problem asking for help. And they were two of the strongest people she knew.
Before she could stop herself, she reached out and knocked on the door. The urge to run almost won her over. She clenched the phone in her hand as she stared at the door. It felt like an eternity before it opened.
“Vicki.” Lawrence’s whole face lit up at the sight of her.
His obvious pleasure at her appearance almost eased her fear.
“I…” The words dried up in her mouth. How foolish. She should never have bothered him.
“What is it?” He took a step t
owards her. The frown lines between his brows deepened.
She loved the lines on his face. The crinkles around his eyes that said he knew how to laugh. The grooves that appeared when he was concentrating. The wrinkles on his brow that spoke of experience. She watched as his eyes took in everything about her. He smiled with realisation when he saw the phone in her hand.
“Have you called yet, or are you about to? Do you want to talk about it, or do you want company to make the call?” There was only genuine affection in his eyes. No censure. No judgment.
She felt her shoulders relax as she swallowed, her throat painfully dry.
“I was hoping for company while I made the call.” It was a relief to hear her voice was as solid as usual.
“Come on in.” He stepped out of the doorway and motioned her into the room. “How about a drink first? I asked Dougal to send up a bottle of scotch at the start of the week and there’s plenty left.” His eyes crinkled at her. “The Scots do whisky very well indeed. It’s another plus for moving here.”
“Thank you.” Victoria stood stiff inside the doorway.
“Sit.” Lawrence pointed at the chair in front of the desk. His confident stride took him over to the small fridge. He grabbed two glasses from the shelf above it, filled them with ice from the fridge, then topped them up from the bottle of single malt on the counter.
Victoria perched nervously on the edge of the chair as she looked around the room. It was a mirror image of hers, decorated in creams with a touch of red tartan to accent it. A lovely room. Comforting. And neat. For some reason it reassured Victoria to discover Lawrence was neat.
“Here you are.” He handed her the glass.
They sipped as they watched each other. Lawrence seemed to be considering something. “Do you want to put the call on speaker, or would you rather I didn’t listen to both ends of the conversation?” He pointed at his laptop. “I can busy myself with work, if you’d rather I didn’t hear the whole thing. I can even pretend I’m not listening, if you think it will help.” His mouth quirked up into a charming smile. The sight of it disarmed her.
Bad Boy (Invertary Book 5) Page 24
