by Annie West
Finally they reached the small landing. His closeness made her skin prickle in anticipation. Waves of longing washed through her as she inhaled his warm, woodsy scent.
All afternoon and evening they’d been together, yet there’d been no pressure from him for more intimacy. That was a good thing. Here was a man interested in her thoughts and feelings, not just her body.
She was grateful Flynn hadn’t rushed her. He was so physically imposing he could be almost daunting. Now she’d grown accustomed to his nearness and the feel of their fingers entwined, fitting so perfectly.
Was that how their bodies would fit?
Her breath quickened and grew shallow. Flynn might be giving her space, but she knew what she wanted even after such a short time. Nothing in her life had ever been so crystal-clear.
The old-fashioned key was heavy in her hands. She had to try twice before the lock clicked. She sighed with relief.
‘You’ll have to watch your head. I’m under the eaves so the roof slopes.’
Ava turned as she spoke to find him already in the room, the door closing behind him. In the dim light his tall frame filled the doorway and a frisson of sensation rippled through her. Doubt? Nerves? Excitement?
It made her hands clammy and her nipples peak against her bright T-shirt. Flynn’s gaze dropped to her breasts and the air in her lungs whooshed out.
No, not doubt. Not with desire pooling in her belly. She liked it when he looked at her like that. It made her revel in her femininity.
In Paris she’d wondered about his feelings, but here in Prague she’d seen the heat in his eyes, felt his possessive touch.
The key clattered onto the tiny bureau.
Flynn reached out and slid her tote off her shoulder, putting it beside the key. The brush of his knuckles against her top made her shiver expectantly.
She swallowed, suddenly gauche as their camaraderie disintegrated, incinerated by the flagrant heat of arousal. It scorched her to the core.
She’d never invited a man to her bed.
Before she could tie herself in knots with nerves, Ava stepped close. Flynn’s hard body drew her and she put her palms on his solid chest, feeling heat sear through the fine weave of his shirt. Yes!
His heart beat reassuringly beneath her fingers. Ava just had time to register that his pulse was far steadier than hers when large hands clamped her hips, drawing her to him. Need rose in looping spirals through her middle as she watched him smile.
‘You look like a cat about to swallow a bowl of cream,’ she whispered.
‘That’s how I feel.’
Flynn’s voice was a bass rumble she felt in the pit of her stomach. His thumbs circled her sides, just above the top of her jeans, making her hyper-aware of every stitch of clothing and the fact that she wanted to be rid of them.
‘Does that mean you’ll purr for me?’ She slid her hands up, linking them behind his neck. His skin was hotter than hers, more alive. Enticing.
Something flared in Flynn’s eyes. Something that reminded her he was no domestic pet. Her heart hit an extra beat.
No doubt he was vastly experienced with women. She’d seen heads turn when he passed. He was a man supremely comfortable in his skin, with an incredibly sexy aura of physical assurance.
‘Try me and see.’
He tugged till she was pressed against him, her breasts rising and falling against his torso. It was delicious.
Rising on her toes, Ava lifted her face, paused, reading the heavy invitation in his eyes, then skimmed her lips along his.
Soft, surprisingly cool. His mouth invited more. She paused, noticing for the first time the tiny tic of a pulse under his jaw that told her for all his cool Flynn was waiting, just as eager as she.
Ava tilted her head, planting her lips on his, moving tentatively as she learned the contours of his mouth.
He let her explore, standing passive. Almost passive—for his mouth responded, mimicking her gentle movements, inciting desire that drilled deep.
Ava slipped her tongue between his lips, finding warmth, heat, pleasure. She pressed closer, needing more, letting her body flatten against the intriguing contours of his frame. Bone and muscle and, yes... She twisted her hips. Arousal.
Instantly the hands at her sides clamped, drawing her tighter against him. His stance altered and somehow her body was curved into his, his head and shoulders were dominating, bowing her backwards, surrounding her.
The tempo of their kiss changed as Flynn gave up any pretence at passivity and took control, his mouth working hers, sucking, tasting, delving, drawing delight from every caress.
The world spun behind Ava’s closed lids as sensations more potent than any she’d known racked her body.
It was like tasting a burst of fireworks. Luminous delight singed her, detonating at pulse-points through her primed body, urging her to enjoy, take more, give everything.
Lost in luscious ecstasy, Ava barely registered the softening of her body, the melting at her core. She only knew she needed more.
Hands sliding up through the thick, pelt-like softness of Flynn’s cropped hair, she dragged his head closer, needily angling her face to his marauding mouth. Clumsy in her haste, her teeth mashed his lip and a sound of frustration broke from the back of her throat.
‘Easy...’ His voice was more vibration than sound.
Then all at once she was moving, pressed against the wall, caught between it and Flynn’s hardness. Long fingers bracketed her jaw, holding her still as he plundered her mouth with an expertise that left her reeling.
Ava felt caged, at his mercy, and she loved it. Foggily she registered how wonderful it was to relax her defences and simply feel. She was intoxicated by him.
She hugged him tight. Muscles flexed beneath her fingertips, making her long for the feel of him naked.
Hunger surged.
She shivered, sensations rioting deep within. The scent of Flynn’s skin, fresh like the outdoors, filled her nostrils and his taste, rich and addictive, made her greedy. Every neural pathway was clogged with the awareness of him—the texture of his skin, his heart beating strong and sure against her, the taut strength of his body pinioning her.
Then Flynn slipped his hand between them, moulding one aching breast, and her blood caught fire.
* * *
The sound of Ava’s pleasure was part gasp, part sob, part roughened purr that trailed like cut velvet down his spine, drawing every nerve and sinew tight and hard.
And the taste of her! Sunshine and juicy ripe raspberries. She was like long-ago summers that never ended. And sex. Needy, greedy, heart-thumpingly satisfying sex.
Flynn’s hold tightened on her soft breast and she pressed closer, her nipple a hard little nub against his palm. His heartbeat thundered in his head and his groin.
She responded so readily. She was flame in his hands, making him burn to the depths of his being.
He nudged her legs wider, insinuating his thigh where her heat beckoned, and she welcomed him, her kisses even more fervent.
Flynn groaned into her mouth. She was killing him.
Who’d have thought his delicate English beauty would be a raunchy tigress beneath the jeans and bright, spotted T-shirt? He’d spent a week biding his time, cautious not to overstep the bounds, fearing she might shy from anything too physical too soon. Yet here she was all but climbing his body, supple and eager and so very enticing.
So much for his careful planning!
Flynn rubbed his thumb over her peaked nipple and she shuddered, making his groin spasm. He slipped his other hand from her jaw and down, to cup her backside in those tight jeans, lifting her to cushion his erection. His heavy eyelids sagged as carnal hunger dragged at him.
He couldn’t remember wanting any woman so fervently. It wasn’t what h
e’d anticipated.
But he should have. He’d wanted her all those years ago, hadn’t he?
‘Flynn...’
It was a sigh and a promise. An invitation he couldn’t resist.
He swung round towards the bed, holding her close—only to come up against the sloping ceiling.
‘Are you okay?’ Gentle fingers skimmed his head.
‘Fine.’
Already he was scanning the twin beds against the far wall. Twin beds! Ava must have booked this room when she’d still expected to share with the girlfriend who’d taken ill and couldn’t travel.
Ava wriggled, her thighs clamping his, and his brain refocused instantly.
They didn’t need a bed. The floor would do—or, yes, here.
Flynn turned, imprisoning her once again against the wall. He slipped his hand from her buttocks round her hip, then down between her legs. Only taut denim and whatever flimsy underwear she wore separated him from the place he wanted to bury himself. She tilted her pelvis into his touch and fire roared through him.
The first time would be fast and hard, but then he’d take his time, learning every exquisite inch of her.
Flynn took her mouth with his, demanding, urging, and Ava responded without hesitation.
Her eagerness was tempered with a slight awkwardness he found faintly endearing. How long since he’d had a woman so obviously inexperienced? Not since his first fumbling assignation in his teens. After a diet of skilful sophisticates Ava was an entrancing breath of fresh air.
Hadn’t he known from the first she was the perfect woman for him?
He’d stroked his hand to the top of her zip when something made him stop. Some sound just discernible through the rush of blood in his ears. Voices. A door slamming. He frowned, lifting his head.
‘It’s okay—just someone in the next room,’ Ava whispered against his throat.
Flynn squeezed his eyes shut as the voices continued, followed by the sound of music. The walls must be made of cardboard.
Behind him a door banged, loud enough that for a moment he thought someone had entered the room. But it must be someone across the landing.
Hell!
‘Flynn?’
Ava’s soft hand stroked his jaw. Even that innocent touch was almost enough to jettison his doubts and obliterate his uncharacteristic hesitation.
Until he opened his eyes and found himself staring into wide cerulean eyes. They were glazed with the same heat he felt, but there was doubt too, a question he’d never seen in the eyes of the women he took to bed.
But Ava wasn’t like them. She was an innocent.
The word hit his chest like the blow of a sledgehammer, robbing him of breath.
Flynn hadn’t missed the almost imperceptible distance she’d kept between them in Paris, even when her eyes shone with laughter and her body language told him she wasn’t immune to him. The stunned delight on her face when he’d kissed her hand today, her almost defiant expression when she’d invited him up here and her passionate kisses, with that slight edge of eager clumsiness, all confirmed it.
Ava wanted him but she was sexually inexperienced. He’d lay odds she was a virgin.
Twenty-four and a virgin. How was it possible?
She leaned in and nuzzled his throat, planting small open-mouthed kisses that turned his body to steel and threatened the last vestige of his control. She rubbed his back in needy arcs and his jeans shrank as her palms came to rest on his buttocks.
His head spun as her grip tightened.
Once more his gaze shifted to the cramped beds. Laughter sounded from the next room and with a sinking feeling Flynn felt his dormant conscience stir.
He didn’t care if the neighbours heard them having raunchy, scream out loud sex against the wall. He didn’t give a damn if he had Ava on a bed or the floor or up against this wall. So long as he had her.
But this wasn’t just about him.
This would be Ava’s first time.
He couldn’t dislodge the thought.
Instinct urged him to forget pointless scruples and take what he wanted. What they both wanted. The way she rubbed herself against him made it clear she was as desperate as he. It would be easy to tip her over the edge, give her the satisfaction they both craved, even in such unprepossessing surroundings.
His lips twisted in self-mockery. Was it selfishness or experience that told him he could please her so well that embarrassment and discomfort wouldn’t matter, even when the afterglow faded?
‘Flynn.’
Those luscious lips pressed against his and he felt his resolve drain. He could barely believe it when he grasped her by the elbows and stepped back. His body screamed denial at the loss of her lush body, those soft lips and eager hands.
Flynn swallowed. His throat worked over arid gravel.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
Ava wore the heavy-lidded look of arousal, her lips dark red from their kisses.
Pain cramped his groin at what he was giving up.
‘Nothing’s wrong.’ Yet his voice wasn’t his own. It was the growl of a wounded, hungry bear denied food.
She swayed closer and his hold tightened. He stepped away, watching the haziness fade from her eyes.
‘This isn’t a good idea.’
If there’d been any lingering doubt about Ava’s inexperience the rosy flush to her throat and cheeks would have eradicated it.
Contrarily, Flynn found himself for the first time in his life turned on by the idea of a blushing virgin. Excitement that bordered on avarice hammered in his veins. He revelled in the knowledge that he’d be Ava’s first.
Just not now. She deserved better.
‘You mean—?’
‘Not here. Not now—like this.’ His gesture took in the wafer-thin walls and cramped quarters.
It struck him in that instant how much her life had changed since they’d first known each other. Then she’d never stayed anywhere except in five-star luxury.
Yet she hadn’t once complained about her altered circumstances. Instead she’d been upbeat about the chance to visit Prague on her two weeks’ vacation.
Ava’s chin hiked up. ‘If I don’t mind...’
‘But I do.’ He couldn’t keep his hands off her. Even pouting, she was delectable. His fingers trailed her throat, up to that argumentative chin. He had to repress a smile at her sensuous shiver. She was patently his for the taking.
He couldn’t believe he was doing the noble thing. It didn’t gel with his plans or his inclinations.
Yet he stepped away before he was tempted to haul her back against him. The half-dazed, half-angry expression she wore didn’t help. He wanted to wipe it away and replace it with that yearning look that made him feel larger than life.
His hands clenched, then spread wide.
‘I’d better go.’ Already he was moving away, his steps ludicrously stiff because of his erection.
The shocked, mutinous look on her face told him he should say more but for once words deserted him. It was all he could do to walk away. Yet something inside, something he hadn’t listened to in a long time, told him he was doing the right thing.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Ava.’
CHAPTER FOUR
‘SEE YOU TOMORROW.’
Ava winced. Flynn had left her so casually.
Indignation welled, as it had all night. She avoided the mirror, knowing what she’d see. Anger, but disappointment too, and a flush that felt disturbingly like arousal. All night she’d been troubled by dreams that left her achy and longing.
Her lips pursed. What had she done wrong? Surely she hadn’t misinterpreted his eagerness.
She shook her head. She was doing it again: rehashing last night’s mortifying scene
where he’d all but had to prise her hands off him.
As for his tight-lipped look as he’d said, ‘Not here, not now...’ It was naïve to think he’d been put off by their surroundings. Flynn might wear hand-made shoes and exquisitely tailored clothes, but he came from a working class family. She’d seen their modest cottage on the estate. There’d been nothing pretentious about the Marshalls.
Whatever made him leave last night it wasn’t her room. That only left her.
Pride told her it was ridiculous to think she was so unattractive she’d scared him off. He hadn’t found her unattractive when he’d kissed her.
Unless he hadn’t really wanted to.
She’d invited him to her room.
She’d initiated the kiss.
Could she have got it wrong?
A knock at the door ended her circling thoughts.
Flynn? Her pulse thudded and she knew a cowardly desire to pretend she hadn’t heard. Angry with herself, she put her shoulders back and marched to the door.
The man standing there was a foot shorter than Flynn and twice as wide. He held a boxed arrangement of exquisite peonies and camellias.
‘Miss Cavendish?’
At her dazed nod he smiled and thrust the arrangement into her arms. Then with a half-bow he turned and headed downstairs before she had time to recover.
Cradling the flowers, Ava backed into her room. They were so perfect they didn’t look real. But as she stroked a finger across one petal she was rewarded with a rich silken texture no man-made process could duplicate.
With unsteady hands she put them on the table. At once her small room morphed from economy class to luxurious and exotically enticing.
She plopped onto the bed.
In twenty-four years she’d never been given flowers. How pathetic was that? Men she’d dated had wanted to buy her drinks or meals, but never anything as romantic as flowers. These weren’t just romantic, they were flagrantly, unashamedly so.
An image surfaced of blood-red long-stemmed roses in an expensive florist’s box. Ava shuddered and thrust the memory away. Those hadn’t been a gift. They’d been a statement of possession.
