Flynn's Kiss (Disarmed & Dangerous)

by Diane Saxon

  His coarse hands and harsh voice took her by surprise.

  “I have to be inside you, now. Right now.” His roughened fingers fumbled between them as he released himself from his shorts, wrenched her panties to one side, and reared up to thrust hard inside her.

  Grabbing her firmly by the hips, he thrust up again, pulling her down at the same time so he could reach deeper, higher, into her very core.

  She cried out, lust taking over where love had to be left behind, but as she bowed back, he leaned in, his mouth catching hers in a ravaging kiss, leaving her breathless and panting. His lips took hers; his tongue explored her mouth in the same rhythm as his penis penetrated her body.

  Glorious frenzy ensued as he thrust savagely, repeatedly, desperately inside both her mouth and body.

  She fisted her hands in the silken thickness of his hair, whimpering in time to his rhythm, as her inner muscles stretched to breaking point, and then burst in a wild reckless throbbing as Flynn peaked inside her at the same time as she broke.

  Weak and quivering, she slumped over his wide shoulders, every muscle lax and unguarded, including her well-used tongue.

  “I love you, Flynn.”

  Mortified to feel the immediate stiffening of his shoulders, the small retreat of his body as it stilled, and he held his breath. She raised her head, kissed first his closed eyelids, his nose, his firm, warm lips that had once again formed a straight line. She touched her fingers to his ear, pulled back to watch as he opened his eyes, and the one thing she feared—pity—shone from his limpid blue pools.

  The ache in her chest threatened to explode as she forced herself to smile, plastered on her wide toothy smile as her mouth stretched painfully false in what she hoped simply looked wild and happy as she met his troubled features. She touched her fingertips to his mouth and skimmed them across the damaged flesh of his scar.

  “It’s okay.” She shrugged. “I fall in and out of love easily. Don’t take it to heart, I’m quite a fickle person really. I don’t expect you to love me back. Next week I probably won’t love you at all.” She drew her fingers up his jawline, circled them around his ear, and traced the line of his scar across to his wickedly slashed eyebrow to smooth it out, her smile more natural as she realized he’d never once flinched from her touch.

  His silence prompted her to offer a little more comfort. “I always fall in love easily, I’ll get over it, don’t worry.”

  Still he said nothing, his face serious; his laser blue eyes studied her.

  Desperate to move from his uncomfortable silence, she grasped at the one thing she knew would bring her comfort and him solace.

  “Let’s go to bed, Flynn, I’m tired.”

  His intense gaze held hers for a moment longer before his brow creased and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I have things I need to do.”

  He lifted her bodily from his lap and stood at the same time, allowing her legs to slide down the outside of his until her bare feet touched the floor.

  His silent speculation of her made her think if he could have patted her on the head and gotten away with it, he possibly would. He didn’t seem to be able to escape quickly enough.

  She stepped out of the circle of his arms, assaulted by an immediate chill that raised her flesh in fine pimples.

  It didn’t matter, she couldn’t let it matter. She gave another bright, false smile and centered her gaze just below the still rapidly beating pulse in his throat.

  “I need a shower. You can let yourself out, can’t you?” She took a step back, but he followed and took hold of her chin with his long, firm fingers to tilt her head toward his. He placed a solid kiss on her lips.

  “Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Her huge smile was still plastered across her face as she locked the bathroom door, leaned against it, and slid down until her backside met the floor. She covered her crumpling face with her hands and wept silent tears as her heart broke.

  •●•

  Fucking hell, what was he supposed to do? The woman had given him a taste of paradise, insisting he kiss her. She hadn’t had to insist very hard. Liberty had been easy to kiss—too easy.

  She was the first woman he had kissed since he’d witnessed the revulsion in his fiancée’s eyes three years ago, just before she’d kicked him out of her life.

  Since then, he’d willed himself to turn his good side to whatever woman he was fucking at the time. And it had purely been fucking. Fulfilling his body’s needs without any other sentiment involved.

  He’d lived in an emotional vacuum until the indisputably aggravating Liberty Sophia Glennon bounced into his life, upending everything. He’d encountered every emotion a human could possibly have, and desire was an understatement. So was confusion.

  He struggled to understand the myriad of emotions she invoked in him. He should have known better, followed his instincts to run like hell the very first time he encountered her. In fact, he had run the first time. It was the second meeting that had done the damage.

  Damned woman.

  She was killing him with the riot of emotions she’d caused.

  The stupid woman, with her Ph-fucking-D.

  She evoked a strong desire in him to protect her, soothe her, comfort her, and not least of all he wanted to fuck her brains out so every highbrow thought she’d ever had would empty out of her head. In fact he had, and it was precisely what caused the problem.

  Goddamned woman.

  Most disturbing was, with her, it had never felt like just a fuck. Not the first time and certainly not the last.

  Christ, she’d nearly killed him when she’d said she loved him. He’d almost blurted the words automatically back at her, just opened his mouth and repeated what she’d said in his weakened state. But he’d promised himself he would never utter them again.

  So he’d hurt her.

  Every instinct howled at him to grab her with both hands and take what she was offering, because this was a woman who would never stop giving, never turn her back, despite her attempt to make him feel better by retracting her declaration, making it sound like she was shallow and fickle. He’d never known a woman so sensitive and sweet in his entire life. Her feelings ran deep and true.

  So he’d run, because the temptation was too strong and he had to get away, put as much distance between them as possible and give himself time to breathe, to think. Because the cute woman with the bubbly personality and the tempting curves was dangerous. A danger to him and possibly a danger to herself. She would never demand anything, her expectations were so low. It made his heart ache when he thought about how little love she’d received in her thirty-one years.

  “Fuck.”

  He sat up in bed, leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and listened to his bristles rasp as he rubbed his cheeks.

  How could she love him? How had she managed to see beyond his hard-nut exterior to the man below the surface who was running scared?

  She made his heart ache. She’d faced rejection at every turn, and yet still she pulsed with life, bounced with endless energy and optimism while he had one incident, one miniscule hiccup in his perfect, golden boy lifestyle, and he’d let it change him beyond recognition.

  For three years he’d bitched about the hand life had dealt him and never attempted to change his fate, never tried to alter his path. He’d thought he was invincible, even after his face had been slashed. He’d returned home fully expecting to be greeted like a hero. Instead he’d had pity and revulsion, and he realized now most of it had been brought about by himself as he retreated into his own shell after Rachel had thrown up on him.

  He slumped back, his head bounced on the soft pillow, and air whooshed from his lungs. He could think of a far more comfortable place to rest his head. Frustrated at his inability to find solace in sleep, he blew out a breath, knowing if he had stayed with Liberty, he would have been snuggled into her breasts, fast asleep. Or making love again.

  He rolled his head to the side a
nd stared out at the pink hue chasing across the sky to herald the rising sun.

  He’d learned so much in the last three years. He’d learned to ignore everyone, except a few. He’d learned how shallow people in the film industry could be, and he’d learned he belonged where he was, surrounded with people who’d known him all his life. He’d also realized he’d allowed himself to be affected by one woman who he’d believed himself to be in love with, and the love had been a sham, a desperate attempt to cling onto a past he’d been scared to let go of. And he’d never truly known what love was until Liberty.

  He shot up in bed, heart pounding like a jackhammer.

  “Fucking hell.”

  He loved Liberty.

  The goddamned woman had crawled under his skin, squirmed herself past his defenses, and lodged firmly in his heart.

  Panic sent adrenaline firing his system; he threw back the covers and leaped out of bed. Blood thrumming hard and fast, he dashed toward the bathroom, intent on getting ready and going to find the curvaceous Liberty to tell her he loved her. Scream it from the rooftops.

  The chime of his cell phone stopped him dead in his tracks. Tempted to ignore it, he glanced at the display. Dominic.

  After their conversation late the night before, he had no choice but to answer the call.

  Irritated, he snatched it up, hit the Answer button.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re awake.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I need you.”

  “How long?”

  “A car will be at the end of the lane in thirty minutes. Don’t be late.”

  He hit the Off button, flung open his wardrobe, grabbed his ready packed rucksack, and tossed it on the bed. He slapped his sheathed Bowie knife on the top of the pack, and then retraced his steps to the bathroom for a quick shower.

  Liberty was going to have to wait. He was only going to be gone twenty-four hours, forty-eight max. If he had time to run across the clearing and tell her he loved her now, he would, but a quick shower and a brush of his teeth were the only things he was going to be able to fit in before the car arrived. There was no way he was going to piss Dominic off.

  He stepped under the torrent of scorching water and gasped as the heat snatched adrenaline and energy and pumped it wild through his veins.

  A phone call to Liberty was not going to do it. He needed to see her face when he told her he loved her. He needed to hold her in his arms, watch the flickering confusion turn to delight, because she wasn’t about to believe him immediately. Rejection had played too big a part in her life, and he’d been responsible for too much of it lately, but he was going to put it right.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, slapped green apple shampoo on top of his head, and allowed the freshness to remind him of his bouncy brunette. He stepped out the shower, quickly wrapped a towel around himself, and as a thought occurred to him, he snatched his phone back off the bathroom shelf where he’d left it and hit the fast dial. The dull, sleepy voice on the other end gave him a moment’s guilt.

  “Frankie, I need a favor.”

  •●•

  She checked her e-mail for the third time, blowing out a frustrated breath. Their timing was rubbish. They’d found something in one of the hundreds of samples she’d sent, and they wanted her back in New Zealand. As fast as possible. She needed to retrace her steps and follow her mapping coordinates to the exact place she had registered the sample.

  Normally, she’d be as excited as her team. She’d have her bags packed and be on a plane before anyone could book her a ticket. But she had unfinished business, and she needed to tie it up before she left.

  Saying good-bye to Kate was always going to be emotional. But tracking down Flynn and telling him she really did love him, heart and soul, was going to be the most painful thing she’d ever done. She owed it to herself to be truthful, though. Her fear of rejection could no longer stand in her way. From his reaction last night, he’d probably run like hell, but at least she could assure him it was her heading for the hills and he could stay put because the likelihood was, she wouldn’t be coming back this way for a few years. Six months in New Zealand. Then she’d have to regroup and decide what she wanted to do with herself. A lot of it depended on Flynn, but she needed to make sure he understood her feelings weren’t transient. She’d been cowardly, almost retracting her declaration of love in her anxiousness once more to not upset him. But whether it upset him or not, he needed to know the truth.

  She glanced at her watch and thought it wasn’t too early to traipse across the glade and seek out the hunk. The sky had pinkened, the pale glow indicating another beautiful day. Perhaps she could slip into his bed, wake him slow and easy.

  The door to his cabin stood open, and as Liberty approached, a stunningly beautiful young woman stepped out. She had legs that went on forever, casually garbed in a pair of denim shorts slashed high to emphasize their length and shape.

  Green, cat-like eyes sliced a cool perusal over her as she approached, and the curl of suspicion in Liberty’s belly uncoiled and grew into a cold lump of dread. The woman folded her arms under her perfect high breasts and lifted one immaculate eyebrow.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?”

  “I was looking for Flynn.”

  The woman casually glanced at her watch.

  “It’s a little early, don’t you think, to be hunting down men?”

  “No, I…”

  “He’s taking a shower, if you care to wait. But I promise you he won’t be looking for an audience.” A sly smile slid over the woman’s pouting lips. “If you get my drift.”

  Oh she got her drift all right, and the sick lump in her stomach revolted as she remembered Flynn had arranged to meet someone the previous night, and when she’d asked him to stay, he’d declined. Oh God, he’d had sex with her and he’d arranged to meet another woman afterward. This woman. This supermodel who’d evidently stayed the night. And the penny dropped.

  “And who are you?” She couldn’t resist asking, although in her heart she already knew.

  Momentary confusion flitted across the woman’s glorious face, her brow gave a brief flicker of concern, and then she straightened her spine, tilted her chin, and introduced herself.

  “I’m Rachel. And you are…?”

  “Liberty.”

  “Of course you are. I’ve heard all about you. I should have realized, only I heard you always wear some stupid hat.”

  Speechless, Liberty stared at the younger woman, her beautiful haughty features set in a supercilious challenge.

  And she smiled, her widest, happiest smile, showing as much teeth as possible as agony pierced her heart and tore through her soul.

  “It was nothing important. Just tell him to have a good life.”

  With her head held high, Liberty turned, aware of Rachel’s attention. She strutted with every inch of attitude she could summon straight back to her lodge.

  •●•

  Flynn swung open the bathroom door and came face to face with the woman he hadn’t seen in over three years. A spark of irritation hit as she flinched at the sight of his face.

  With only a towel wrapped around his waist, he halted, leaned against the bathroom doorframe, and crossed his arms over his chest, noticing the appreciation in her eyes as she cast them over his body.

  “Rachel, it’s been a while.”

  She raised her hand and smoothed her perfect coiffure, and his irritation increased. If he’d had a choice to spend two minutes with a woman, it would have been the one with wild curly hair instead of this mannequin.

  “It’s early. Was there something you wanted?”

  “Yes, Flynn. I’ve been chasing you around this ol’ town, never able to track you down, so I thought this was the best way to find you.” Instead of soothing him, her pure Southern accent served to irritate further.

  “You’ve found me now. What do you want, Rachel?”

  She blinked rapidly, obviously taken aback that someone would
speak to her so abruptly. He certainly would never have done so in the past, but he’d changed. It didn’t appear she had. He flicked his gaze quickly down the length of her and realized she hadn’t changed one iota. She still wore teenager clothes, still had a little girl pouting attitude, and still believed she was the most important person in the world. He smiled and watched her take a step back, her eyes widening with fear, which made him grin even wider.

  She patted her hair again and swallowed hard.

  “Why, Flynn, I heard you were back for a while on vacation, and I wondered if you would like to…you know.”

  He brushed water droplets off the top of his arms and stared at her while she assessed him. She obviously had no objection to his body, it was his face she was offended by.

  “Take up where we left off?”

  “Well. Yes.” She looked flustered and not the attractive, womanly ruffled he enjoyed evoking in Liberty, but a false, uncomfortable agitated, where she couldn’t meet his eyes, and her skin wasn’t a pretty pink flush but a mottled dark red.

  “Uh-huh. I see.”

  He rubbed his chin, stroked his fingers along the scar line there, and watched her turn pale. He narrowed his eyes and wondered at her gall.

  “And where precisely do you think we left off? Because last time we were together, you were throwing up all over my feet and screaming I was a pervert and a monster if I expected you to kiss me.” The memory was still vivid, but the hurt had washed away with the help of a certain clever scientist.

  Three years of torturing himself for a woman who stood in front of him as cold as ice and who summoned no feelings in him whatsoever. It felt good. It felt liberating, and when he returned, he was going to grab his curvaceous woman with both hands and sweep her off her dainty little feet.

  Distracted, it occurred to him Rachel had been speaking.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “Are you not paying attention to me? I said, Flynn, I thought we could get engaged again and I could come with you when you return to Hollywood.”

  “Ah.” He straightened, took a step toward her, and a malicious thrill shot through him when her eyes widened and she took a further step back toward the door. “Hollywood.” With a nod, he continued to stalk her.