“You are every fantasy I’ve ever had.” His voice rumbles softly against my skin as his lips travel between my breasts.
Shifting my hands to either side of his head, I tilt upward, needing to see the truth in his eyes. I’ve been used. I’ve been chewed up and spit out. But this man, he makes me feel alive. He makes me feel wanted. He makes me feel complete. Sliding my fingers along his jaw, I run a thumb over his soft lips, pushing it inside. A look of adoration passes over his face as he laves at the pad of my thumb, his tongue flicking like it did on my nipple, promising me things to come.
I want so much to believe that this is real. That everything he’s making me feel is the love I’ve always wanted, that he’s the man I’ve always craved—the one who will never leave me, who will accept my crazy and keep me safe.
I need to feel safe.
“Promise you won’t leave me. Promise me again, just like you did that night you took care of me.”
“You remember that?”
I nod. “I understand now why you stayed here. You knew how I felt before I did.”
“Alcohol makes people very honest.”
“I can be honest now.” My fingers rake through the stubble that pushes through his cheeks. “I’m still scared of this. I’m scared of you, of us. It’s why I need your promise.”
He lifts his hands to cup either side of my face, his eyes wide and serious as he looks deep into mine. “I promise you, Ruby. I’m here for the long haul. You are everything I want.”
“Then take me.” Shaking with nerves, I lie back, lifting my arms above my head, my naked torso exposed to him. I’m baring myself, letting him see the damaged pieces, the tiny scars from the pins that put my body back together again.
His fingers move over my skin, causing goose bumps to rise on my flesh even though the very touch of him is making me hot as hell. He lowers his mouth and kisses my belly button, his tongue flicking the indentation lightly. Then he moves lower, his fingers releasing the buttons on my jeans and pulling them from my hips, my underwear along with it. I wriggle my feet, pushing them off at my ankles where I let them drop to the floor. He lifts my leg, kissing my ankle, sliding his hands upward until he reaches my knees and pushes them apart.
I feel his eyes on my body as he pauses to drink in my nakedness. That crooked dimple of a grin is twisting his mouth appreciatively. “This is better than my dreams.”
His words shiver along my spine, pooling in my belly and turning into a heat at my core. I’m so wet and ready that when he sinks between my open legs and grazes his rough cheek against my inner thigh, my body twitches and a moan escapes my lips.
“Keep your eyes open.” He lowers his face, nuzzling my pussy before his tongue laps upward, flicking lightly at my clit.
He watches me react. I can’t control the twitch of my body; I’m far too turned on.
“Flynn,” I gasp, writhing closer because I want more.
His breath washes over me, a warm tickle as he chuckles from his position between my legs. “She’s a greedy one. I like that.” He places his hand on my stomach, his fingers splayed as he tilts my hips up and clamps his mouth around my pussy, his tongue alternating between fucking me and teasing me.
My legs close around his head.
"You're soaked," he murmurs, his tongue flicking my clit as he slides one long finger inside me. I gasp, convulsing around him. Then he adds another finger, the act almost tipping me over the edge as he moves to a pace that matches my rocking hips. I moan with every exhale, my fingers scratching at the leather bed head, seeking purchase.
"I'm coming." My hands fly downward, taking Flynn’s hair in my fists as my hips lift off the bed, my moans becoming a shout as my orgasm tears through me.
Flynn’s arms wrap around my thighs, keeping my legs apart as his mouth continues its sweet torture, the thrill of it tearing from my throat.
"Flynn!"
He releases his hold, his hands landing on the bed either side of me. Then he kisses me deeply, my taste still on his tongue.
"You’re delicious," he murmurs, biting playfully at my bottom lip as he pulls back.
Smiling, I follow him so we're sitting and lift his shirt so I can see the delicious abs he has under there. "Get naked, Flynn. It's my turn to devour you."
With a glint in his eye, he places a hand on my shoulder and presses back until I'm lying down. "Hold that thought and don't move a muscle." He gets off the bed and heads for the door. "I'll be five minutes."
I lean up on my elbows. "Where're you going?"
"To get out of this wetsuit, wash the seawater away and get a condom."
I grin. "That's quite a list."
"Stay put."
I last about the length of time it takes for the water to turn on, deciding that this would be much more fun if I joined him in the shower. However, I don’t get far when his phone starts going off, his ringtone the introductory chords to “Black Hole Sun” by Soundgarden.
It’s not my phone. And normally, I’d never answer someone’s phone without permission. But I recognise the number—Dakota’s.
“Cody?” I press the mobile to my ear, curious to know what could be so important that she’s calling Flynn’s phone.
“Thank God. You’re OK,” she breathes.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“We’ve been trying to call you all morning. Brad is on his way to check on you now.”
There’s a knock on my front door at that exact moment. “I think he’s here now. But I’m OK. It’s just been a busy morning. That’s why I didn’t answer my phone.” Quickly, I pull on my underwear and jeans, then throw on one of Flynn’s T-shirts over the top. It’s enormous on me, so I twist it in a knot on my way to the door.
“Has the Victim’s Register called you?”
“I don’t know. My phone is on silent.” I place my hand on the doorknob and twist. “Why would they be calling?”
“It’s Tony. He escaped.”
My eyes go wide as the sound leaves my world. My first instinct is to release the door handle. But it’s too late.
Everything happens in slow motion. My door pushes open and Tony steps inside. His mouth moves and I see my name form on his lips. But the only thing I hear is my heartbeat and a scream.
I turn, my feet sliding as I scramble in the opposite direction, yelling for Flynn.
Tony’s hand wraps around my ankle and I go down, the sound and speed of the world coming back to me as I slam into the hard wooden floor.
“Let go,” I cry, turning to face him, ready to strike with my free foot.
I kick at his throat, shocking him enough that he lets me go, giving me time to retreat into the apartment and put the couch between us.
“Don’t run from me, Ruby. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to take you with me. We can still be together. But we need to leave now.” Tony coughs his words out, my kick obviously causing him a decent amount of discomfort.
“Why would I want to go anywhere with you? You’re a monster!”
As he leers at me from the other side of the couch, I take in his rat-like features and wonder how I ever could have fallen for him. I must have been desperate and out of my mind. “Because I love you, you stupid bitch.”
In that moment, Flynn grabs him from behind and, with a swift headbutt, knocks him out cold. “Who’s the bitch now?” he says over a crumpled Tony.
“Holy shit,” I gasp, rushing around to see the man I’ve been petrified of for over a year in a heap on the floor.
“Are you all right?” Flynn turns to me, his eyes frantically searching for any signs of injury. Finding none, he almost crushes me in an embrace, kissing the top of my head.
“I’m fine. But I swear, I am never answering the door again.”
“You won’t have to. We’ll go somewhere with better building security.” He looks down at Tony. “Is this the guy who put you in hospital?”
“Yeah. He escaped from prison, somehow.”
Flynn crouche
s down and checks his pulse.
“Get something to tie him up. Then we’ll call the cops.”
Running to my room, I search my drawers, remembering a set of handcuffs I won at a bachelorette party a few years back. “Will these do?” I ask, handing him the metal cuffs coated in fluffy purple material.
Taking them, Flynn looks at me and grins. “Seriously?”
“What? I’ve never used them.”
Chuckling, he clips them over Tony’s wrists. “Hey, I’m not judging. There’s nothing wrong with a little roleplay in the bedroom. Gives me something to look forward to.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“You’re seriously joking about that right now?” I laugh.
He nods. “It’s possible I have ADHD and can’t focus on one thing for too long.”
“Do you?” That would explain a lot.
He grins. “No.”
“Ruby!” Brad calls from the entryway, rushing into the living room, his eyes almost bugging out of his head when he sees Tony face down on the floor, his face bleeding from the headbutt. “What happened? Are you OK?” He rushes over and hugs me.
“I kicked him in the throat, and then Flynn knocked him out.”
Flynn looks up at me. “You kicked him in the throat?”
I nod.
“The police are on their way. Dakota called them. She’s beside herself. She heard the whole thing.”
“I better call her and let her know I’m OK.”
Brad shakes his head, his eyes on the escaped convict on my living room floor. “I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you this time.”
Reaching out, I take a hold of Flynn’s hand and squeeze. “I’m better than OK.”
35
AFTER THE POLICE have finished taking our statements and Brad has gone home, Flynn pulls me against his chest. “I’m proud of you. It takes a serious badass to keep their cool enough to throat-kick a guy.”
“I guess all those self-defence classes paid off.”
“Looks like Joel was a good teacher.”
I grin. “You said his name.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not jealous anymore. The sun chose the moon this time.”
“Like I had a choice.” I elbow him in the side playfully and he smiles. I think we both knew that I’d eventually give in to what’s between us. Everyone could see it, I just needed to allow myself to open my eyes.
“Listen, I know I made a joke earlier, but seeing that guy coming after you really scared the shit out of me. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d been hurt.”
Rising on my toes, I press a kiss to the underside of his chin. “I know. I’m kind of everything to you.” I grin and he brushes his fingers over my face, pushing back my hair.
“Yeah, you are.” Lowering his mouth to mine, he kisses me with a slow intensity. “Pack a bag,” he whispers when we break apart.
“Where are we going?”
“I thought I’d take you to my place.”
Thinking that’s a great idea, I head into my room and start throwing things into an overnight bag. “Did they finish fumigating?”
“What? No. It was never being fumigated. I actually had an interior designer in there.”
“Um... why?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know anything about decorating.”
“OK.” I frown, saying the word slowly. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
“There isn’t really a need, but you’re about to find out the answer to that pesky little question you kept nagging me with.”
We take his van, the Tesla already in the garage at his place. And in ten minutes, we’re pulling up outside a residence that puts his sister’s house to shame. The block of land is huge and there’s a security fence that requires a code to get through. When we drive up the circular driveway to a heritage-style building, there’s a six-car garage off to the left.
A click of a button grants us entry and once inside, I see two motorbikes, a Jaguar, and a Land Cruiser that is covered in mud. His taste isn’t just high-end, it’s practical too.
“I should probably get that cleaned.” He gestures toward the Land Cruiser.
“Is this seriously your house? I mean, you’re not the groundskeeper here or something, are you?”
He laughs. “I’m not a groundskeeper.”
“I’ve got it.” I snap my fingers. “You’re a house-sitter. That’s why you have a shitty old van and get to drive the Tesla. You’re looking after all this for someone.”
Placing his hand on the door handle that joins the garage to the house, he turns to face me, his eyes full of amusement. “That’s a bit of a reach. Do you seriously think that?”
I shake my head. “No. But this is kind of freaking me out. This house is huge. You know how nervous I get in big houses.”
“You get nervous in big houses?”
“You saw how I was at your sister’s.”
“I saw an amazing woman let herself get intimidated by someone with money. But you settled down once you got to know her a little, so the fact that you already know me should make this a little easier on you, right?”
“That depends. Is this the part where you finally tell me what you do for a living?”
“I can do better than that. I’ll show you. I just got some new product and I had some delivered here.”
“Product?”
Opening the adjoining door to his house, we enter near a kitchen and casual living area that is large enough to fit my entire apartment inside.
Then he looks at me and lifts his brow. “Yes. And it’s a substance, Ruby. The kind of substance people tend to abuse.”
“What?” My heart starts beating so fast it makes my stomach flip and flop along with it. My imagination is trying to convince me that I’ve really done it this time—my shitty choice in men has taken me from gang member to the head of a drug cartel. I feel a little sick.
“You’re so easy to stir.” He laughs and directs me to a plain cardboard box that sits atop the brown granite benchtop. “Open the box, Ruby.”
My hand shaking, I do as he says, pulling at the stiff cardboard and peering inside the heavy box, praying it isn’t filled with white powder. It isn’t. It’s filled with bottles. Red frosted bottles.
“Is this... vodka?” I ask, pulling out a bottle to read the label. Across the glass, the name ‘Ruby’ is printed in fancy white lettering. I turn the bottle over in my hands, finding that ‘Ruby’ is a cranberry-flavoured Trotsky vodka.
“This is what I do. I make vodka. Trotsky vodka. It’s my family’s company—well, I own it, but my sisters and their husbands helped turn it into what it is. We all work together.”
“Bullshit,” I gasp, almost laughing because, when I read the label, it’s all there in front of me. There’s even a photo of Flynn in a lab coat along with a blurb about the company background. It says that Flynn started the company while he was at university doing a science degree. He was experimenting with a different distillation process which produced a vodka that was smoother than any he’d tried before. It quickly grew popular because of its unique flavour and drinkability. The company expanded, and Trotsky vodka is now found all over the globe.
“No bullshit. See, that’s my picture there and everything.” He points at the label.
I shake my head. “You’re an arsehole.”
“I’m an arsehole?” He has the gall to look surprised.
“Yes. This whole time, you’ve made me think you were into some sort of underhanded shit, and you were just making vodka.”
“I told you I wasn’t doing anything illicit. You should have believed me.”
“Then why did you put me through all that cloak and dagger shit?”
“Because I didn’t want you to choose based on who could give you a better lifestyle. Shockingly, there are a lot of women who only like me for my vodka-making skills and my ability to cash in on said skills.”
“So you tricked me? You made me think you were a drug-dealing layabout.”
“Arsehole.” I push against his chest but he doesn’t move, just smiles at me. Those dimples—ugh, I’d forgive them anything.
“Yeah. But I’m your arsehole.” He leans down and kisses me. My whole body relaxes against him as that skilled tongue of his slays my mouth.
“Weren’t you supposed to show me this house of yours?” I murmur. “I’m particularly interested in the main bedroom. Then you can show me the rest of the house, really slowly,” I say suggestively against his ear.
“That’s a lot of rooms, Ruby—seven if we’re only counting the bedrooms.”
“Are you saying you’re not up for it?”
“Oh, I’m up for it. I have the stamina of a man exactly my age.”
Laughing, I kiss him. “I love you, Flynn.”
He grins. “Yeah, I gathered that.” Then he scoops me up in his arms and chuckles. “Drug dealer.” Rolling his eyes, he shakes his head, highly amused that I still suspected him of that.
Shooting my hand out, I grab the bottle of vodka. “If you’re going to be this funny all night, we’re going to need this.”
“I know a fun way to drink that.” His brow lifts as his eyes skim my body. I get delicious shivers all over. Everything between us is fun and light.
Then we enter the master bedroom—a room styled in neutral tones with a massive bed dominating the floor space—and he lowers me to the mattress. All of a sudden, things between us become very serious.
“Before we do this, I want you to know something.”
I run my fingers down the side of his face, feather-light. He kisses the tips when I reach his chin. “What’s that?”
“I’m in love with you, Ruby.”
A smile curves my lips. “I was hoping the vodka named after me was some sort of a declaration.”
“It was. I made it so you can have that wall you wanted.” I remember the conversation we had in the car after I noticed Trotsky vodka at the liquor store.
A Beautiful Danger (Beautiful #7) Page 22
