Page 52 of Kissing Flynn

“I don’t know,” I murmur without enunciating, kissing him again as my fingers slide out of his hair and back to his chest.

Flynn hums with appreciation, then tightens his grip on me before rolling from his side onto his back. I end up on top of him, and when I brace my hands against his chest and push myself up so I can look down at him, I find him smiling as he blinks the sleep from his eyes.

My knees slide into place on either side of his hips, and I push myself upright before yanking his shirt off and tossing it to the floor. Flynn’s smile widens, and he reaches up to touch my breasts with gentle, yet firm fingers. My back arches as I hum with pleasure, and Flynn tweaks my nipples the way he knows I like.

I need him inside me. Now.

Shifting my weight to my knees, I lift up and drive a hand between us. Tugging his waistband down, I wrap my fingers around his cock and pull it free. Smiling at how hard and ready he is for me, I use my other hand to jerk my underwear aside. Angling him toward my opening, I sink down, taking all of him in a single, smooth motion.

Flynn’s mouth falls open with a harsh exhale as he watches me, his hands sliding down to grip my hips. Rolling my body, I ride him slowly until he suddenly levers upright. Wrapping one arm around my back and the other around my shoulder, he tangles his fingers in my hair and grips it tightly as he guides me up and down at a quicker tempo.

“You feel so fucking good, Max,” he whispers against my neck before pressing his open mouth to the spot.

I groan in agreement as my peaked nipples brush against his hard chest, intensifying the pleasure building in my core. My orgasm is coming, harder and faster than ever before.

I can’t pretend I don’t know why. It’s because I’m with Flynn, and I love him. Just thinking those three little words shoots me right over the edge, and I moan loudly as I grind down on him, letting him feel my orgasm against every inch of his erection.

Flynn grunts and freezes, and I feel his cock jerk with his own release. He hugs me against him even tighter, his rough exhales ruffling my hair as I feel his heart pound against my chest, its rhythm beating in perfect synchronicity with mine.

Tears sting my eyes at the thought of Flynn’s heart being the mirror image of my own as they beat at the same speed. Then I almost laugh at how sappy and sentimental I’m being. This is real life. Not some live-action fairy tale.

Leaning back, I meet Flynn’s eyes. He looks sated, but there’s something else in their blue depths. Something volatile and passionate. Something that––much like the beat of his heart––mirrors the emotion swelling inside me.

I open my mouth to speak, but before I can utter the three little words fighting to tumble out, a knock on the door startles us both. Pressing a palm to my chest, I take a deep breath.

“Yes?” I call out.

“Sorry to bother you, Miss Nolan, but Mr. Roxberry would like to meet you and Mr. Nightingale on the veranda in twenty minutes.”

My eyes widen, and Flynn’s do the same as we stare at each other. The valet including him in the request to me, rather than knocking on Flynn’s door, would infer he knows Flynn is in here with me.

“Okay, thank you. We’ll be there,” I call back as Flynn buries his face in my chest to muffle his laughter.

“Very good. I’ll let Mr. Roxberry know,” he calls back.

Gripping Flynn’s hair, I tug until he lifts his face from my chest so I can meet his eyes. “He totally knows you’re in here with me.”

He shrugs. “Can’t keep anything from the employees around here. They’ve probably known for days and just decided to stop pretending like we’re not together.”

I grin, preparing to tease him about assuming we’re “together,” but my smile falters when I realize that in twenty minutes, Barnard will ask me to leave the island. I won’t have to pretend to be happy for Flynn. I am happy for him. But I will have to pretend not to be gutted by our imminent separation.

“We should shower and get dressed. Don’t want to keep Barnard waiting,” I say instead, and Flynn groans playfully as he grips me tighter against him.

“Five more minutes,” he murmurs before pressing his lips to my breastbone.

“Sorry, buddy,” I say, injecting humor into my tone as I disentangle myself and climb off him.

Flynn falls back to the mattress with a mournful moan, then cracks one eye open to see if I’m falling for it. I can’t help but laugh at his antics, and his resulting smile lights up his eyes. Then he rolls off the bed and lands on his feet in one smooth motion, pulling his shorts and underwear up before smacking a kiss on my cheek.

“Fine. You win,” he says with a wink. “Meet you in the hall in fifteen?”

I nod, and he cups my cheeks before pressing several soft kisses to my lips. He hums a happy sigh as he releases me, then turns and walks into his own room, closing the door softly behind him to give me the privacy I desperately need.

My body folds inward the second I’m alone, and I shuffle to the bathroom to turn on the shower. I stare at my reflection as I plait my hair into a single braid that falls over my shoulder. I need to stop wallowing. I forfeited my chances at this opportunity for a reason, and I can’t get selfish now just because I’ll lose Flynn for a few months.

He’ll still be mine when he gets back to L.A. I just have to be patient.

I hop in the shower and repeat the mantra until I believe it. Once I’m clean, I dry off, brush my teeth, and head back out into the bedroom to get dressed. I pull on a black tank and a pair of denim shorts. Casual is fine this morning. No need to try to impress Barnard anymore, right?

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