Never Been Good

by Christi Barth

  Looking up at him, Sierra said swiftly, “I love you.”

  Flynn jolted. Visibly. Like a live wire got shoved into his chest and head to toe, he stiffened. Then he took a step backward.

  Uh-oh.

  She’d blown it. Freaked him out. Pressured him too soon.

  They’d known each other, been friends for two months, but only dated for one. Sierra felt closer to Flynn in four weeks than she had to Rick after more than three times that. But they were her feelings. Ones that Flynn wasn’t required to reciprocate.

  At least, that was the first wave of thoughts that crashed through her brain. As he took a second step backward, a whole new flurry of thoughts barraged Sierra. They were in a relationship. Relationships were built on honesty, on trust. At least this one was. So she shouldn’t have to keep her feelings a secret. Or be worried about sharing them.

  Flynn could do whatever he wanted with her statement. The only way to be true to herself as well as their deepening . . . entanglement . . . was to be open. No different than telling him if she had a stomachache, or worried about paying her rent. So he’d darn well better stand there and take it like a man.

  Sheesh. Sierra hadn’t realized that declaring her love would bring out her feistiness.

  She snatched the flower out of his hand. Opened the cover, carefully teased each petal flat, and then slammed the journal shut.

  The sound must’ve jolted Flynn out of his coma of panic. He sort of jerked once more, then he set his shoulders. Great. Guess they were both bracing for a fight.

  “I was going to give you more time,” he murmured softly. His eyes were a little unfocused. Stunned, even. “Get you to come around to seeing that your heart would be safe with me. I should’ve remembered that you’re by far the braver of the two of us.”

  Her heart leapt into overdrive, like she’d just run a mile around the track. “What are you trying to say?” Because what Sierra thought Flynn was circling around to seemed too good to be true.

  “That I love you, too. I didn’t want to be selfish. Didn’t want to tell you how much I need you before you were ready to hear it.”

  Wow. Now her heart was pretty much thumping as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. “I’m ready. In fact, I think I’d like you to say it again.”

  Flynn framed her face in his hands. One thumb traced the curve of her lips as her smile grew. “I love you, Sierra Williams.”

  “Just Sierra,” she whispered. “The other name isn’t really mine.”

  “It’s a good stopgap. Until, maybe, you think about trying on a new one. Something from the middle of the alphabet.”

  Omigosh. Could he really . . . did he really mean . . . Sierra squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t tease me.”

  “I’m not.” He planted the softest, lightest kisses in the world at the outer corners of her eyes, his cheeks brushing her lashes. “I’m talking through what’s in my heart. No strings, no ticking clock. Just a guy telling the prettiest, sweetest woman in the world how he feels. And how he hopes their future might shape up.”

  This man. This wonderful man was blowing her mind. Exploding her heart into little confetti-like shards of pure joy. It was everything she’d always wanted, yet never dreamed of achieving.

  Almost.

  Her eyes popped open. Because if they were really even skating close to talking about this, Sierra had to lay something on the table.

  “I’ve got a nonnegotiable plan for my future.”

  One of Flynn’s eyebrows shot up. But he looked amused, not challenged. He dropped his arms and made a beckoning wave of his hand. “Lay it on me.”

  “I want to foster children. I want to give a home to kids who need one. I want to keep as many children from feeling alone as I possibly can.”

  “You mean as we possibly can.”

  The sharp bite of bark against her back was the only thing convincing Sierra that this wasn’t a dream. “Don’t promise me the moon, Flynn, if you don’t have one heck of a long tow rope to pull it down here and set it in front of me.”

  “My parents were both gone before I learned to drive. I know that feeling of loneliness, at least in part.” He spread his arms wide, palms up. “I’m completely on board with fostering.”

  “No rearranging our lives while we’re still getting used to intertwining them. I just wanted to lay it out there. As part of my future.” Sierra looked down at her journal. A place where she could start making lists of dreams that Flynn would help her to make come true.

  He eased the book from her tight grasp and set it on the ground. “How about we cement this unofficial officialness of our future by celebrating the present?”

  “What does that mean?”

  Flynn braced his arms on the tree trunk, caging her in. Which was exactly where she wanted to be. “It means I want you.”

  “Oh. Well, I want you, too.”

  “See? We’re great together. On the same page for all the important stuff.” Flynn captured her mouth. His tongue immediately probed, sweeping and sucking and tangling with hers. “This is going to have to be fast. We don’t want to push our luck too much with not being discovered by other hikers.”

  “Fast is good. If it’s with you. However we do it is always fantastic.”

  Flynn pulled a foil packet from a cargo pocket and unzipped his shorts. Rolled on a condom. “I feel like there should be romance to go with saying I love you for the first time. You deserve candles and flowers.”

  “You gave me a flower,” Sierra reminded him, nudging the journal with the toe of her sneaker. “This entire date is the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me.” She pushed her shorts to her ankles and stepped out of them. Pushed her man to the ground, then straddled him. “The only thing I deserve is a toe-curling orgasm.”

  “You’ve got to start giving yourself more credit, sweetness. I say you deserve two.”

  His hands settled on her waist before suddenly lifting her like she weighed no more than a feather. Flynn settled her right on top of his face. His mouth, to be precise. And precision is exactly what she got as his tongue gave two long licks before strumming across her clitoris.

  Sierra fell forward onto her hands. Flynn was making the earth spin. Shudder. Or maybe that was just her. She only knew that her knees barely held her up as pleasure spiraled through her with intense speed. Her nails scrabbled past the leaves into the dirt. Then, when Flynn scraped his teeth along the path of his tongue, she screamed as she came. It had taken no time at all, but the results were as mind-blowingly spectacular as ever.

  Again, Flynn’s strength surprised her when he moved her back down his body. With aftershocks still pulsing through her, Flynn entered in one fast thrust. And he just kept going.

  He set a relentless pace, not giving her time to catch her breath or help or even rearrange her legs. Flynn just kept his hands on her hips and controlled her movement for her, lifting and turning Sierra a little as he pounded that long, thick, amazing cock into her.

  “Fall forward,” he urged.

  She put her hands on the ground just above his shoulders. Flynn surged up, capturing her left breast in his mouth. A yank of his teeth pushed her top and bra below it. Once her nipple was wet, he blew cool air across it. Goose bumps—what felt like both inside and outside—raced along her entire body.

  “That’s cheating,” she panted. “It doesn’t count as two orgasms if you just prolong and build upon the first one.”

  “How about we argue semantics after you scream my name?”

  So cocky. Sure, he was a certifiable sex god, but Sierra still had some moves of her own. “How about we do it after you scream mine?” She sat back up to skim both of her palms in light circles over his nipples.

  First he groaned, a deep and throaty sound that seemed eminently fitting for the middle of the forest. Then Flynn tilted her hips, readjusting so that his penis hit a spot that spiraled her right back toward orgasm. He picked up the pace, to where she couldn’t tell where one stroke stopped a
nd the next started. It was just a sensory overload of being filled and exploding at the same time.

  “Let’s do it together, Sierra. ’Cause I can’t hold out any—”

  Simultaneously, he groaned again, longer and louder, and she let out a high-pitched scream before falling onto his chest. It heaved up and down as Flynn gulped for air.

  It took a few minutes before the sounds of birds and rustling ferns could finally be heard over their labored breathing. The whole thing had lasted less than five minutes, but Sierra felt as boneless and satisfied as if it had taken an hour. Whatever fireworks display Bandon ended up shooting up off the coast wouldn’t come close to the brightness and heat of what they’d just shared.

  Knowing it was the smart thing to do—since getting arrested for public indecency was not on her to-do list for the weekend—Sierra rolled off to tug her shorts back on.

  “Is all . . . that . . . going to happen every time we say I love you?”

  Flynn laughed. A long, rolling laugh that gave her a glimpse of what he must’ve looked like ten years ago. Completely open and happy and so young and carefree. “God, I hope so.”

  “Then we’d better not risk saying it until we get back to the car.”

  “There’s no rush. I’ve got snacks to last us through a hike, since we’re here.” Flynn shoved her journal back into his pack.

  Sierra carefully looped the ribbon around her fingers before stuffing it into her pocket. Then she grabbed his hand and swung it playfully as they walked down the path, underneath the towering spruces. “You really did plan the perfect day.”

  “Don’t say that. Perfection’s dangerous. It implies it can’t ever be topped. Or it’s just looking for trouble from that bitch Karma. You know, Turkish rug makers weave an imperfection into every rug, so as not to offend Allah.”

  Fat chance. “I don’t think we have to worry about one hundred percent perfection being achieved. I’ve got an attempted murderer who may or may not be searching for me for the rest of my life. I’ll never stop worrying.”

  Flynn’s steps slowed. “What if . . . that wasn’t the case?”

  “I know, I should meditate or something to remind myself that it does no good to worry about what’s outside of my control. But meditation’s boring. I’m not desperate enough to go for it, I guess. Or finding peace in Norah’s special brownies.”

  “No.” Flynn tugged her hand to stop them next to a tiny stream. He rolled his lips together, and then took a deep breath. “I mean, what if dealing with Rick was in your control?”

  And here she’d thought forest floor sex was the biggest surprise of the day.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Flynn had been nervous only a handful of times in his life. At his mom’s funeral, worried that he’d cry and his classmates would never let him live it down. At the initiation ceremony for McGinty’s crew. Rafe had sworn it wasn’t like a street gang—he wouldn’t be required to shoot anyone. But when Danny McGinty came toward him holding a big-ass dagger with an Irish cross on the hilt, he’d worried.

  And, of course, the day he sat in a large conference room with a state-provided lawyer, two FBI agents, three U.S. Marshals, two Secret Service, and a video camera recording his testimony.

  Those times had all sucked.

  This moment, right now, staring into the confused eyes of the woman he loved? It was a hundred times more nerve-racking.

  “Do you trust me, Sierra?” Man, wasn’t that question just a fucking double-edged sword? Because he wanted her to say yes. Needed her to say yes. All the while knowing he was about to shatter that trust like a car window taking a hit from a Louisville Slugger.

  But it was the only way. He’d thought about it. Had the long-ass talk with Delaney. Talked—well, more in circles than in specifics—to his brothers and gotten what Flynn took as a thumbs-up. Fixing Sierra’s problem was the only way he saw clear to the future.

  Even if her future didn’t have him in it after today.

  “Of course I trust you. It’s funny how sure I was that I’d take years to trust anyone again. How I thought Rick had messed me up so badly that I’d be second-guessing every man I got close to, looking for their secret agenda. Not with you, though.” She reached up to stroke his cheek, the softness of her palm making him close his eyes to savor the moment. “You make me feel so safe, Flynn, so, gosh, treasured.”

  “I love you, Sierra. There’s nothing I want more than to keep you happy and safe.” He captured her palm and placed a kiss in the center of it. “Which is why we’re having this conversation. Because I need you to trust me when I say that I can get you out of this mess. For good.”

  Laughing, she asked, “Is this when you tell me you’ve got an uncle who’s a private investigator? One who’ll track Rick down and put the fear of God into him?”

  “No. No uncle. No family at all except for Rafe and Kellan. That’s the God’s honest truth.”

  “For goodness sake, Flynn, I was just teasing.” Her brows knitted together in concern. “Why are you so serious all of a sudden?”

  “Because I need you to believe me. Believe every word that’s about to come out of my mouth.”

  “Always.”

  Shit. He could barely take the undiluted love and unqualified trust shining like diamonds in her blue eyes. In case it was his last chance, Flynn kissed her. Hard, at first, with all the intensity of the passion he felt for her coming through, before he gentled his lips and tongue to give Sierra the tenderness fucking aching in his heart.

  “I can help you deal with Rick. I have a connection to a U.S. Marshal. One who’d love nothing better than to get your testimony to shut down that counterfeit ring. To put him away in jail for attempted murder, put Wayne away, and make sure they’d never find you.”

  Her hand fisted at her heart. “I . . . I don’t want to go to jail.”

  “No, sweetness, you wouldn’t. I promise you. I have her word.”

  “Whose?”

  “The marshal.”

  A little of that absolute trust leached out of her gaze. Disbelief—the first of what he figured might be a metric shit-ton by the time he got done—seeped in to replace it. “Why would a marshal make you a promise like that for a person she’s never met and has no reason to trust?”

  “Because she believed me when I vouched for your innocence.” Here we go, he thought. “Because she’s my handler.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “She’s the marshal assigned to protect me. All three of us, actually.” Damn it, he was easing into it like a ninety-year-old inching into a bathtub. Flynn stalked in a small circle. Shook out his hands like he used to before each fight to loosen up and get ready. “I’m in WITSEC. The United States Federal Witness Security Program.”

  “Oh, no. You witnessed a crime? You were a victim of a crime? Or Rafe, or Kellan was? Are you safe?”

  Her obvious concern for his well-being, first and foremost, just showed how big a heart Sierra had. Flynn hoped he didn’t break it with what came next.

  “We’re safe. The U.S. government has invested considerable time, money, and resources to make damn sure of that.” Flynn even believed that a lot of the time.

  Well, no, he’d give credit where it was due. He believed they’d done their due diligence. Made sure to stick the Maguires in a town where the Irish mob would never think to look for them. Made certain their fake IDs, cover stories, and pretty damn intricate online trails all rang true.

  What he didn’t believe in was people.

  People could be bought. Bribed, blackmailed, threatened, promised . . . you name it, Danny McGinty found a way to twist people to do what he wanted. And Flynn had no doubt that, even with his organization all but dissolved, his reputation shattered, his health disintegrating and his family under constant surveillance, that Danny McGinty wanted his revenge on the men who’d toppled his empire.

  Sierra gestured at his torso. “I don’t . . . you have scars on your body, but nothing that looks like you s
urvived an attack. Why are they protecting you?”

  “Because Rafe and I are helping them to bring down the Irish mob in Chicago.”

  She gaped at him. “You’re from Chicago?”

  Funny how she’d zeroed in on that. Guess the little stuff was easier to tackle first. “Yeah. The Cubs, deep-dish pizza, and a deep-seated belief that anyone who gets scared to drive in anything less than full-out named blizzard is a pansy-ass.”

  Sierra shook her head, the tail of her brown hair slapping at her cheeks. “Why . . . how . . . are you bringing down the mob?”

  “Because we used to be in it.”

  Aaaaand there it was. Sierra physically recoiled. No, not just recoiled. She skittered back several steps like a frightened forest creature.

  Not that Flynn blamed her in the least.

  “You’re a bad guy?”

  “No.” Damn it, he’d never been altogether good, but he wasn’t bad, either. “Sierra, I promise you’re safe with me. Hear me out. Please. Don’t run, don’t cut me off, don’t do anything until I tell you the whole story.”

  She pulled her phone out of her pocket. Punched in two numbers. “I’ve started to dial 911. You give me any reason, any weird eye twitch, and I’m calling the police.”

  Didn’t she realize that just made him love her more? That strength and bravery that Sierra never gave herself credit for, but made her a freaking Atlas compared to some of the hardened criminals he knew? “Smart girl.”

  “No sweet-talking, either. Just the facts.”

  Flynn shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Our father was in the mob. I didn’t know it, but Rafe did. Dad sucked Rafe right into it when he was just a kid. And by kid, I mean he was seven when they started him running errands.”

  Eyes as big as the plates for the Nachos Supreme at the Gorse, Sierra breathed, “That’s appalling.”

  “Our mom died, and then Dad not too long after. Danny McGinty, he ran the Chicago mob. He made sure that we were taken care of, that we didn’t get split up and put into foster homes.”