She stood, shaking her head. “Not going to happen, Flynn, so stop.”
He didn’t stand. Keeping his cool was paramount right now. He didn’t want to fight with her. But he wasn’t going to take no for an answer either.
“Give me one good reason?” he asked, looking up at her.
“I don’t need to give you a bad reason. I said no, and that’s that.”
Flynn stood, moving within inches of her. “Are you afraid of being around me?”
“Of course not. I’m around you now.”
“Are you afraid we’ll be intimate again?”
“Hell no! That ship sailed,” she said, although not with the conviction she intended.
“Do you want to be?” he asked.
Hissing in a breath as if he’d touched her intimately between the thighs, she looked at him as if she was staring at headlights. “It doesn’t matter what I want. Remember the deal breaker? Or do I have to remind you how you treated me after our encounter with Allen Stiles, Sunday night?”
“You knew who he was?”
“Who doesn’t know who he is? He’s got his fingers in every tech pie in Silicon Valley.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”
“I don’t know him, I know who he is. Would it have changed anything? He’s just another arrogant rich white guy who thinks because he has more money than God he can throw it at anything he wants and get it.”
Frustrated, Flynn began pacing. He wasn’t used to being disobeyed. “You’re being stubborn because of your pride,” he said. “You’re in jeopardy, Isadora. You’re being foolish for not taking appropriate measures to stay safe.”
“Yes, I’m being stubborn,” she shouted. “Not because of my pride, but because I don’t choose to stay within the same four walls with someone who thinks their shit doesn’t stink and mine does because I’ve stripped to pay my rent and he hasn’t!” She walked to the front door and jerked it open. “Please take your judgmental self from my house and don’t ever come back.”
Flynn stood his ground. “I don’t give a shit if half of California has seen your tits, Isa,” he shouted back. The words shocked her, judging by the stunned look on her face. He lowered his voice and slowly said, “I have a problem that you’re going back to that dump and shaking them for the other half, even if it’s taking it for team Chastain. A team that doesn’t give a fuck about you!”
“So what?” she screamed at him. Slamming the door shut, she moved toward him, getting into his personal space. “What does it matter to you,” she demanded, poking her finger into his chest, “what I do or why I do it?”
She was spitting mad. But so was he. He wanted to grab her and shake her and make her promise she would never let another man see what he had seen. Not for all the rent money in the world, not even for her sister. But for him, because he asked her not to. And because damn it, he—was fucking it all up.
He had no right to ask her to stop.
But he could protect her, not up close like he’d prefer, but from afar. He owed her that, and even if he didn’t, he would because she meant something to him. Putting his hands up, he said, “It doesn’t.”
Her jaw dropped. “I hate you,” she whispered.
“I wish I could say the same thing about you, but it would be a lie.” He walked to the door and grabbed the knob. “Lock this. Look up OPD’s dispatch number, plug it into your phone and call it instead of nine-one-one if you have a problem. You’ll get a quicker response.” He opened the door and walked through it. Before he closed it behind him, he looked at her. His chest tightened with emotion. She stood proud and defiant, the tears sparkling in her beautiful eyes belying her stance. How did he tell her she meant something to him without giving her hope?
How did he explain that he had no confidence in love? Once the honeymoon was over, the drudgery set in. Then the resentment followed by divorce. With the exception of Kat and Simon, who were still in the honeymoon phase, Flynn could not name one single married couple he knew where one of the two wasn’t miserable. Pink deserved a man who believed in love. He cared enough about her to admit he wasn’t that man and because he wasn’t, he shut down.
“I’m just a phone call away.” He turned, shut the door behind him, and walked to his car feeling like he’d just tossed something precious away.
Chapter Twenty-three
Izzy lay staring at the ceiling, the drone of the windup alarm clock on her nightstand the only sound that penetrated her brain. The traffic outside had quieted and the unexpected rain had stopped. The cadence of the tick-tock tick-tock of the clock reverberated in her ears.
Reminding her of time lost.
She’d spent the last thirteen years of her life building a wall, honing her armor, and insulating herself from men exactly like her father. Her mother’s pain, she swore, she would never endure. And yet, here she was, hopelessly hung up on a guy who took what she offered with no regard to her feelings.
Moist heat stung her eyes. Swiping away a tear, Izzy snuggled into her pillow. How had this happened? Was she so desperate for—what? Love? Acceptance? Belonging? She didn’t understand herself, much less the reasons for what she felt right now. She just knew she wanted Flynn. She was a head case for sure.
There had been guys in college who would have jumped at the chance to be with her. Good men who would have treated her like a queen. A few she’d hung out with, to see if maybe she was missing out on something. She wasn’t. At least not with any of them.
From the moment she’d laid eyes on Flynn at the club, it was as if invisible hooks had sunk deep into her chest and reeled her in to him. She’d never felt so alive. So desired. So happy. What she felt was real. That’s what hurt so much. It was real. To her.
Was she being fair to Flynn and herself? They had been willing partners. Good God, she had desperately wanted what he gave her. Even now, as hurt as she was, she would not undo it. It was amazing. It had spoiled her. Flynn would be the benchmark by which she measured all men who came after him.
Just thinking about the way he touched her, warmed her from the inside out. The only consolation she could take away from her time with Flynn was that as much as he fought his inner demons, it was clear to the woman in her that the man in him still wanted her. At least physically. That wasn’t enough for her, though, not when she felt the way she felt about him. There was no way she could separate the sex from what her heart wanted. Even after he kicked her to the curb because his ego couldn’t handle what she had done, she still had feelings for him. Was it just a crush because he’d taken her virginity? No, there was more to it than that. Even after he dropped her off last night, her yearning for him had deepened.
The heart wanted what the heart wanted, and it wanted all of Flynn Ryker.
Sighing heavily, Izzy opened her eyes and looked toward the window. The streetlight shone through the slits of her blinds, the raindrops sparkling as shadows moved across the pane.
Was it fair of her to expect Flynn to be okay with what she would continue to do if she had to? She’d told Andre no more lap dances. That had gone in one ear and out the other, because he expected her to dance at Boris’s private party.
She would if it meant finding Alex. How did she expect a man like Flynn to handle that? He wouldn’t. He’d made that clear. Or maybe, just maybe that was his excuse. Charlie said men like Flynn didn’t know how to love. That he would need the patience of someone who saw he had love to give and who would nurture that part of him until he saw it for himself.
He wanted her. Had asked her to let him start over. It was her own fear of being rejected again that had pushed him away when he had reached out to her. She had done the same thing to Alex, and look what happened. Flynn was a once-in-a-lifetime guy. She wanted a chance with him. Was she willing to take it?