Flynn slid her hand from the gearshift to the zipper on his jeans and the bulge that swelled when he put her hand there. “Does that feel like I forgot?” He raised her hand to his lips, turned it over and kissed her palm. “I can’t wait to get you back between the sheets.”
“Then why didn’t we order room service?”
He squeezed her hand and groaned. “You’re killing me, woman.”
Smiling slyly, she purred, “I’ve never licked a meal off a man’s belly before.”
“Do you want me to turn around? Because I will.”
She laughed and sat back into the comfortable leather seat. “No, let’s go mingle with the less sexed and play footsie under the table and drink.”
“You can drink champagne, I’m driving.”
“I’ve never had champagne.”
“Tonight you will.”
Just a few minutes later they pulled up to a Peruvian restaurant he’d been to a few times and thought Pink would enjoy. The food was good, the place clean, and they had great beach patio dining.
As Flynn helped her out of the car, he pulled her soft warmth against him. She melted into him. Her bubble gum scent teasing his nostrils. Clasping her face between his hands, he lowered his lips to hers. Before he kissed her, he whispered, “Tell me you’re wearing panties.”
Giggling, she fell deeper into him. He loved the way she felt, the way she let down her guard with him. She made loosening up easy. “Do you want me to lie or tell the truth?”
“Truth.”
She stood up on her toes and whispered loudly, “No panties.”
His hand dropped to her butt cheek and he smacked her. “You are a very bad girl, Pink.” He grabbed her ass and brushed his lips against hers. “I’m going to have to think of a suitable punishment for that.”
“I can think of a few.”
“Let’s discuss over dinner.” Before he laid her across the hood of his car and took what he wanted, he took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers, and led her into the restaurant.
Once they were settled at an outdoor table beneath a heater with clear wind barriers around them, Flynn ordered a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
“I thought you weren’t going to drink?”
“I can’t have you toast alone.”
When the glasses were poured, Flynn raised his glass to hers. “To us.”
“To us,” she said softly, clinked her glass against his, and took a sip. He watched her nose crinkle as the bubbles tickled her. Her face lit up with a dazzling smile that tightened his insides. Damn she was beautiful. Her pink lips pressed against the rim of the crystal glass and he watched the golden liquid pour against her equally pink tongue. His dick swelled. Did she have any clue at all what she did to him?
“Do you like it?” he asked, his voice husky with unmasked desire.
Her sea green eyes shone brightly over the rim of the glass. “Very much.” She took another sip, then another.
In an effort to ease the tension from his body, Flynn sat back in his chair and watched her enjoy the champagne. The white fabric of her halter top hugged her tits only when she turned a certain way. It was enough to make a man dream about what was beneath the thin fabric. Thank the gods she was wearing a bra, otherwise he’d be fighting off every guy in the place. There were several large parties of men inside, probably a corporate dinner, and the way they looked at her as he led her through the restaurant to this table hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. For someone so petite, she walked with the long grace of a feline. He supposed doing what she did for a living gave you the self-confidence to walk through a gauntlet of hungry males like you were strolling down the frozen food aisle at the grocery store.
She was just shy of an hourglass build. Her hips swung with the slightest bit of attitude. Her smooth olive skin tone shimmered with health. Big blue-green cat-shaped eyes framed by long black lashes, high sweeping brows, a straight little nose, and that lush mouth of hers, created a beautiful, exotic effect. Nothing about her reminded him of the skanks his father ran with. Pink could hold her own in any social circle. She was a smart, sexy, complex little package of dynamite. His trousers tightened uncomfortably.
Long slender fingers, her nails natural now with just a coat of clear polish, daintily held the stem of the champagne flute. She brought the glass to her lips and sipped, and his dick jerked as he remembered how those beautiful lips looked locked around his straining cock.
Languidly, she licked a drop of wine from her bottom lip. He about came in his pants.
“I think we should go back to the hotel,” he said in a husky whisper.
Her lashes fluttered as she took another slow sip. “But I’m enjoying this.”
“I’ll buy you a case of Cristal. Please, baby, you’re killing me.”
Grinning, she set the glass down and under the table she placed her hand on his thigh very near the straining head of his dick. “You’re going to have to exhibit a little self-control.”
He grasped her hand and squeezed it, then moved it back to her lap. Her pink lips pouted in disappointment. “I have no self-control when it comes to you.” He tossed back the champagne. He needed to focus on something other than how quickly he could get her back to the room. “Tell me more about you. What did you do before Surf’s Up?”
“I was in school.” As she answered, a group of the men who had been dining inside barged into the patio dining area. Flynn stiffened as they approached.
“There’s a table over there,” the loudest of the dozen said, pointing to the empty one nearest theirs.
No way was he going to subject Pink to their drunken revelry. Flynn leaned into her and said, “We need to go.”
“But—”
“Now.” He stood and offered her his hand. Setting down the glass, she gathered her purse, and smoothing her skirt as she stood, she slipped her hand into his.
As he guided her around the group of oncoming men, one bumped into his shoulder and another into Pink. Flynn shoved the drunk aside. “Watch where you’re going,” he snarled. He was in no mood for a bunch of drunken ass-hats getting near Pink.
The guy stepped back, and gave Flynn a salute, but his eyes raked Pink from head to toe. His eyes narrowed as he looked hard at her, then at her chest, then back to her face. Recognition dawned. Flynn cursed and moved in front of Pink.
“Hey, guys!” the asshole yelled. “Look who’s here! The Surf’s Up’s top tits!”
Pink made a sound reminiscent of a trapped animal. He pulled her in closer. Color leached from her stricken face. Her eyes widened in shock. Fury boiled deep within him.
“Flynn—I—” she started. Hooting and howling ensued, drowning out her words, and suddenly they were surrounded by a rowdy group of dollar-bill-waving schmucks.
“Best set of tits in California!” one of the guys yelled, pushing his way from the back. Wrapping Pink protectively in his right arm, Flynn began to elbow their way from the group.
“How much, Wild Style?” the guy from the back called as he came pushing through the crowd, waving a wad of cash in his right hand like he was already the victor. Flynn knew the type. Entitled executive who lived by the “If-I-can’t-bully-it-my-way-I’ll-buy-it” code. “A thousand bucks, Tits, if you give me what you’re giving—”
Something deep, dark, and feral snapped inside of Flynn. All he wanted was to kill the guy. To shut him up, to rip his fucking eyeballs out of his head. That a man like this had seen Pink’s body the way Flynn had, infuriated him. Motherfucker was going to die tonight.
The guy never finished his sentence. Flynn punched him so hard in the face he felt the crunch of the guy’s cartilage vibrate through his knuckles. The velocity of the hit knocked the asshole off his feet and into his stunned buddies. With Pink still wrapped tight in his right arm, violence raged in his blood as he turned back to the suddenly quiet group. “Anyone else have something to say?”
Collectively the group shook their heads.
“Good.”
Flynn tightened his arm around Pink and steered her out of the restaurant.