by Vi Keeland
Looking down, I see Laney jumping around. “Laney’s doing the pee-pee dance. I better grab her.”
“I’ll take her. You can get me some popcorn for your Elsa audition. I have a feeling it’s going to be amusing.” She bumps my shoulder as we stand, but doesn’t let go of my hand until we get to the restroom with Laney.
With a popcorn bucket bigger than my damn head, I wait outside the ladies’ room. When the two of them walk out hand in hand, I realize for the first time what I’ve been missing, what I want more than anything. I thought it was having the world at my feet, singing up on a stage, being a rockstar. But the reality is…I want Sunday afternoon movies with these two.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lucky
The little girls giggle at the man on stage singing his own version of “Let It Go.” He’s turned the epic ballad into more of a rock anthem—singing it without a single beat of music. I’ve watched him up on stage before; his talent is undeniable and his sexiness is utterly swoon-worthy. But watching him today, as he sings a song for a five-year-old he adores, puts the whole man into perspective. His beauty shines through from the inside out.
I’m leaning against the wall on the other side of the theater, taking it all in. A gaggle of moms stand nearby, as riveted as their daughters, only the look on most of their faces tells me their interest is far less innocent.
“You think he likes older women? I mean, we’re more experienced.”
“Look at him. Do you really think we have more experience? Giving Harold a BJ on his birthday and your anniversary doesn’t equate to the type of experience that man must have. I bet he fucks like the devil.”
“Victoria! You’re so bad!” They both giggle.
“I’d like to be bad with him.”
The women sigh loudly. “Do you think having all that rhythm makes him better in bed?”
Flynn’s song ends, and the place erupts in applause that by far overshadows the clapping the end of the movie garnered. He winks at Laney in the front row and heads toward me. Through my periphery, I see the horny moms follow his steps as he strides closer to where I’m standing.
“Back to the balcony?” He offers me his hand.
I take it, walk two steps, and then stop, turning back to whisper to the moms, “The rhythm definitely makes him better.” I wink and walk away, leaving their mouths hanging open and their eyes green with envy.
“What was that all about?” Flynn asks as we make our way back up to the balcony.
“Nothing.” I smirk deviously. We settle back into our seats and he guzzles a full bottle of water. “Thirsty?” I tease.
“How did I do, coach? I did everything you taught me. Tilted my head so my throat was open, leaned back instead of forward. I think I earned an A.”
Shit. I was supposed to be watching him for professional purposes. “You did great. You’re a model student.”
He smiles. “I had a good teacher.”
“I don’t even think you really ever needed me.”
He stares at me for a long moment with his beautiful blue eyes. “Funny. I was just thinking you’re all I really need.”
My heart sighs and the entire world fades away as he slowly leans in and, ever so gently, brushes his lips with mine. We’ve been intimate, but this moment is at an entirely different level. He rests his forehead against mine, and I hold my breath while he speaks. “Lucky,” he groans. “I want you. I keep trying to distance myself, but it’s impossible. I wake up with your name on my lips every morning. I want you next to me during the day and beneath me at night.” He closes his eyes, and when he reopens them, the pain I see crushes me. “Tell me to walk away and I will. But if you don’t right now…” He shakes his head. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”
The thought of losing him sickens me. It’s not a difficult decision. “Don’t walk away. I just need more time to figure things out.”
He closes his eyes, and I watch his face visibly relax. We sit hand-in-hand in the balcony until the last person sings. Then we go down to a very excited Laney. Carolyn is by her side, a hesitant look on her face. “Ummm…Laney told the girls you would sign some autographs.”
Flynn’s dimples appear along with his adorable crooked smile. “No problem.” I’m pretty sure Carolyn blushes.
A half hour later, he signs the last autograph and thanks Carolyn. A few workers from the theater come to carry the portable stereo that acted as backup for the singers today. “Would you mind if we borrowed that for five minutes and I’ll carry it out to your car?” His smile is less innocent this time—he absolutely knows it will get him what he wants. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes when Carolyn gushes that she’d be delighted.
When the theater door closes behind her, Flynn turns to me. “You ready?”
“Ready for what?” I ask nervously.
“Our duet.”
“Ummm…I don’t think so.”
He leans in so that Laney can’t hear him. “‘Let It Go’ was the number-one karaoke song last year. You’re not going to try to bullshit me that you don’t know it like you did in the car, are you?”
Shit.
There may be no stage, but the big room is nerve-wracking nonetheless. I look around and swallow.
“We got this.” He squeezes my hand and stares into my eyes. The way he looks at me, assuring me, I believe his words.
We do have this.
He smiles, knowing I’m giving in before I even do. Then, together, with an audience of one little princess smiling from ear to ear, we stand at the front of the theater and sing the shit out of the Frozen song.
Laney babbles almost the entire way back to the hotel. It’s clear she adores her uncle, and he is most definitely wrapped around her tiny little finger. After we park, she insists on holding both our hands. She squeals with delight when we swing her into the air between us, and demands, “Again.”
Busy entertaining the little tyrant, none of us even notice we walk smack into a row of three men as we enter the hotel lobby. The middle one being my very unhappy-looking boyfriend.
His eyes hard, he takes in the full scene before him. We must look like a happy couple playing with their child. The smile drains from my face along with the color. His jaw flexes. “You haven’t answered your phone.”
I fumble in my purse and fish out my cell, turning it on. There are five missed calls. “Sorry. I turned it off in the movie.”
“The movie?” he snaps.
Shit.
My stomach roils. When I see the angry glare he directs at Flynn, I worry what might happen next. “We. I…”
Luckily, Flynn steps in. “I asked Lucky to come with us to a kid’s event I sang at for my niece. Take her coaching on the road. This is Laney.” Flynn locks eyes with Dylan and then points his down to the little princess we’re both still holding hands with. It serves as a gentle reminder of her presence. After a long hard glare, Dylan’s eyes drop down to Laney and it takes the tension down a notch.
“We’re going to look at a new bus. I was trying to reach you so you could come look at it.”
“A new bus?”
His jaw clenches and he searches my face. “I’m thinking about upgrading. So you have more space to put your things. You’re going to want more than just a few outfits when we’re gone for two months at a time.”
He’s assuming I’ll agree to what he asked of me last night. But now is definitely not the time to point that out. I feel Flynn’s eyes on me, too.
“You ready?”
“Umm. Sure.” I look down at Laney, who is unusually quiet. “It was very nice meeting you.”
She tugs at my arm, telling me to crouch to her level. When I do, she wraps her arms around my neck and squeezes a big hug good-bye.
I walk out of the hotel with a different man than I just walked in with, and an enormous ache in my chest. Turning back, my eyes meet with Flynn’s. How much longer can I do this to him?
Neither Dylan nor I say another word abo
ut the encounter in the lobby. Oddly, it felt like we had just moved the discussion to the back burner, where it would simmer for a while, rather than letting things come to a boil in the moment. I also didn’t mention, as we looked around at luxury buses that cost more than an apartment in Manhattan, that I hadn’t agreed to go on tour with him. The conversation was coming, I just needed to figure a few things out first.
The next morning I wake even earlier than usual. I didn’t have a chance to speak to Flynn after the tense exchange in the lobby and, taking the cowardly course of action, I went to bed before any of the guys returned to the bus after last night’s show. Mick spent the night in Austin and is flying to meet us at the next stop in Vegas, and Duff had a woman with him, so that left just me, Dylan and Flynn. Not a trio I wanted to sit around with in the tight confines on the bus.
After failing miserably at trying to get back to sleep, I decide to head out to the lounge area and do some writing. A quick stop in the bathroom and then I tip-toe through the dark sleeping-berth area. Halfway, an arm reaches out and grabs me. Luckily, the other arm wraps around my mouth and stops the bloody-murder scream that was beginning to wail from my lips.
“Shhh,” Flynn whispers into my ear and then hauls me up into his sleeping berth, drawing the curtain closed behind us.
My heart is pounding in my chest.
“You might want to keep quiet,” he growls in my ear.
“But—” His hand comes back to my mouth, pressing gently.
“I thought I would help you figure things out.” He glides his other hand down over my body and beneath my sweatpants, fingers coming to stop over the lace of my panties. “Can you keep quiet?” he asks, his voice strained and low.
I nod, but he doesn’t immediately move the hand covering my mouth.
“When I slip my fingers inside you, can you keep quiet then?”
A muffled whimper escapes when he presses his fingers against my clit and begins to slowly rub tiny circles.
“When I fuck you with my fingers. When you’re soaked and I’m pumping in and out of you. Can you keep quiet then?” His gritty voice at my ear sends a shiver through my body.
It’s pitch dark in the small, curtain-concealed bunk, but I see the flash of need in the glow of his eyes. Longing ripples in my belly. One finger slips inside of me while his thumb continues to massage my clit—everything tingles, straight down to my toes.
“When I bury my face in your sweet pussy. Licking and sucking until I feel your body convulse around my tongue. Can you keep quiet then?”
His hand at my mouth clamps down harder, barely able to stifle my groan. My hips buck when he slips another finger inside me. He shifts to lie beside me.
“I’m going to take away my hand for a minute,” he warns and waits for me to nod before moving.
His hand inside me slows while the other manages to undress me from the waist down. He pushes up my shirt and growls when he finds my erect nipples.
“Bend your knees. Pull your legs up and spread them wide for me.” His head dips, his mouth sucking harshly on my nipple as he resumes the speed of his pumps between my legs. Wisely, the other hand moves back to cover my mouth.
My fingers dig into his hair, grasping handfuls, desperate to let out the burn flaring inside of me. Everything begins to spin, my mind forgetting anything exists except this moment.
Forgetting where I am.
Forgetting we could get caught.
Forgetting what’s right and wrong.
My entire focus on one thing. This man.
The way he touches me.
His fingers inside me.
His heavenly, greedy mouth.
Biting.
Sucking.
His fingers pump harder. Furiously in and out.
The hand at my mouth clamps firmer.
I think I might burst.
And then abruptly his fingers slip out of me and his mouth leaves my breast. Only to drop lower, settling between my legs. There is no teasing first lick or promising suck. No. He just devours me. His tongue lashing out at my clit, sucking, licking, nuzzling.
“Oh god,” Flynn’s hand clamps down harder and catches the rest of my incoherent words. My body screams for release, stifled moans build. It’s as if keeping it all silently inside me only increases the intensity at which I’m about to explode.
He spreads my knees wider, opening me completely to him as his fingers join his tongue and he licks in rhythm with his pumps. “You taste so fucking good.” He pushes deeper and deeper.
My breaths grow short and shallow. Eyes roll toward the back of my head as I feel the wave crashing down upon me. My body trembles as I unfurl. Unravel.
The most powerful orgasm of my life takes over, everything else ceasing to exist. I cry out, sound muffled under his hand.
It takes a full five minutes before the last tremor runs through me and Flynn senses it’s safe to free my mouth.
“Morning.” He grins wickedly at me. “I just wanted to show you what I plan to have with my morning coffee every day.”
Now that I could get used to.
Unfortunately, the twelve hours we spend on the bus after I slip unnoticed from Flynn’s bunk are not nearly as incredible as the breakfast Flynn decided to have in bed. Dylan is in a bad mood, and the guilt I feel turns into a blaring headache. I throw together a quick dinner in the small galley of the bus, even though I don’t really have an appetite.
Watching me push food around my plate with my fork, Dylan huffs loudly. “Not hungry again?”
“Not really.”
“Did you take something for the headache?”
Do they sell anti-guilt pills? “No.”
“The medicine cabinet in the bathroom is stocked. Take something. We should get in around nine. I have to do an appearance at Club Sixty-Six. Would be nice to go out and actually spend time together for a change.”
I nod and force a smile.
Flynn walks in from the back—it’s not a very big bus, but he seems to have successfully avoided us most of the day. Until now.
“There’s ravioli in the pot on the stove top if you’re hungry,” Dylan grunts.
“Thanks. But I had a big breakfast.”
I catch the glint in his eye, but Dylan seems oblivious. Flynn grabs a beer from the fridge and sits on the couch across from us. The closeness of the two men makes me nervous; the smirk at the corner of Flynn’s mouth as he takes a long draw from the bottle makes me downright panicky. “Do you ever have breakfast for dinner?” he asks while I’m drinking from my water bottle. I almost choke. “I like my morning meal so much, sometimes I eat it twice a day.”
A frown pulls at Dylan’s lips. He wasn’t in a good mood to begin with, and Flynn’s presence doesn’t do much to enhance it. “I skip breakfast most days,” he mumbles, as if it’s an annoyance to even have to respond.
Flynn’s lips twitch as he brings the bottle to his mouth again.
Ten minutes later, Dylan declines a Rockband video game challenge in favor of taking a nap.
The minute the door to the back closes, Flynn grabs another beer and plops down next to me at the table. “Skips meals. Naps.” He shakes his head ruefully. “Must suck to get old.”
I crinkle up my napkin and throw it at his face. “You’re in a devil mood tonight, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Must have been the way my morning started.”
“I think you should sit on the other side of the room.”
“Can’t keep your hands off me this close?” He takes my fork and pops a ravioli into his mouth.
“I thought you weren’t hungry?”
“I wasn’t. Guess I just get hungry for a good meal when I come closer to you.”
A loud female moan comes from the back of the bus. Duff and his date were at it half the afternoon; guess he caught his second wind. The female voice gets louder. “Oh. Oh. Ohhhhh.”
“Sounds like Duff might be having a late breakfast.”
I f
eel my cheeks blush.
Flynn surprises me by getting up and pulling the door closed. Then he turns on Rockband, letting the sounds drown the rest of the moans out. He hands me one of the plastic guitars and waits for the game to start, not looking at me when he speaks. “New tour bus, huh?”
Of course, we didn’t really have any discussion this morning, and the last time I walked away from him was after Dylan suggested I’d agreed to go on tour with him. “Dylan asked me to go on tour with Easy Ryder long-term. I didn’t agree,” I clarify.
The music starts up and Flynn begins to press the buttons on the guitar handle. He doesn’t even have to focus much to hit all the notes. “He asked and you said no?”
Not exactly. “I suppose I didn’t give him a definitive answer.”
“What will your answer be? Is this how you see us a few months from now? When In Like Flynn joins Easy Ryder on the tour? Sneaking away when we can?”
I shake my head. I wish I had a better answer to give him. But honestly, I still have no idea how any of this will wind up playing out. I’m afraid to trust my heart blindly again.
He nods and says nothing more. We play together for hours, laughing and falling back into that comfortableness we’ve had since the first day we met. Only, we’d never let anyone see our true relationship. Eventually Duff and his date come out and join us, and the two guys battle it out on the guitars, cursing and drinking beer. It’s not until Dylan walks back out into the lounge and eyes us strangely that I realize the relationship that Flynn and I have is starting to bleed through. We’re no longer able to hide the bond that has grown between us, even when we try.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Flynn
The last of my anonymity fades into oblivion as we walk into Club Sixty-Six in Vegas. In Like Flynn has toured before—I’d even been on TV—but after only a few weeks with Easy Ryder the vague recognition I was used to seeing on people’s faces changed into instant identification.
Mick looks over at me as a group of women swarm us the minute we walk inside. Together we sign autographs on the way to the VIP area. More than one woman slips me her number. Instead of tempting me, it makes me wonder if Dylan really does indulge when Lucky isn’t around. It’s not really a question one can ask directly without raising suspicion.
