The body wanted what the body wanted. Just this once…
Flynn took her face in his hands and as he kissed her, her body opened for him. He slid deeply into her, the sensation so sublimely erotic, tears stung her eyes.
“Jesus, God, Isa, you feel so fucking good.”
Suddenly she couldn’t catch her breath. Her flesh clung to him, the nerves filling with blood, pulsing wildly. In a slow grind, he seated himself deeper into her. Impaled by him, she felt panic seep into her as an orgasm flared deep within her. She was going to come and he hadn’t even—“Ahhh, Flynn,” she sobbed. Her body spasmed around him, fisting his cock tightly.
When he moved, she cried out for him to stop. “Don’t move,” she sobbed again, digging her nails into his back as her body continued to come undone around him. “Please, please, I can’t—” she gasped, the orgasm peaking, then, like fine crystal slamming onto a stone floor and shattering, she broke into thousands of tiny pieces.
As her body quaked beneath him, the residual waves of the orgasm spread to the tips of her toes and the ends of her fingers. The scope of the orgasm and how, with virtually no effort on Flynn’s part, she had come like a sex-starved slave shook her to her foundation. He hadn’t moved a muscle since she begged him not to. He was granite hard inside of her.
What had she done? Terror gripped her. She couldn’t draw a breath.
“Pink?” he said, “You okay?”
“No,” she sobbed, pushing his chest. “I need to go. I can’t do this.”
Flynn shook his head, still not moving as she slid from beneath him and ran from the room to hers, slamming the door behind her.
She had knowingly and willfully trapped herself in the same prison her mother had been trapped in. She had become an addict. A slave to Flynn’s body. The depths of her desire for him terrified her. Not just his body, but his heart and soul.
The door flew open. “What the hell just happened?” Flynn demanded.
Izzy turned around to face him. He stood furious in his naked glory at the threshold. Every inch of his hard body screamed sex. His cock glistened with her wetness.
“I need you to leave me alone,” she cried, pulling the sheet off the bed and wrapping it around her nakedness.
“I need you to tell me what the fuck is going on, Isadora!”
“I don’t know!” she screamed hysterically. “I don’t know! I’m just—I can’t—” Petrified is what she was. Her emotions out of control. She was being irrational, she knew. Schizoid was a better term. One minute she was screaming Flynn’s name as he gave her a momentous orgasm and the next minute furious with him that she had enjoyed it.
“How could you take advantage of me like that?” she demanded.
“What?”
“You knew how vulnerable I was,” she accused.
“Hold on a minute, you seduced me for Christ’s sake! What did you think I was going to do? Ignore you?”
“You should have resisted me!” He was the one without feelings. Not her.
Jamming his fingers through his hair, he looked at her like she was crazy. Because she was. “Do you know how impossible that is?”
“You’re the one with all the experience, Flynn,” she sobbed. “You know how I feel. You should have stopped it.”
“What about how I feel? Did you ever consider I might have something to say about this?”
“You have no feelings!” she cried accusingly. “You just take and take, giving nothing back. Just like my father did to my mother!”
He nodded. “Okay, you’re right. I don’t give a shit about anything except fucking you.”
He walked to the door and grasping the knob, he said, “And now, I officially don’t give a shit about that either.”
He slammed the door shut behind him. Izzy threw herself on the bed and cried.
Chapter Thirty
The storm that continued outside had nothing on the storm that raged within Flynn. Standing at his window, he watched as a car pulled up in front of his house and before it came to a complete stop, Pink ran out to it.
He didn’t run after her. He didn’t try to tell himself it was better this way because it wasn’t. If it was, the yearning for her would be gone. He wanted her, damn it. Here, in his bed. On his terms, not hers.
He was hurting. He wanted to be where Pink was. Flynn realized it didn’t matter where that place was as long as she was beside him. Her energy infused him. Made him feel like Superman.
Swiping his hand across his face, Flynn backed away from the window. He walked down the hall to the room that was still warm with Pink’s scent. Picking up the sheet from the rumpled bed, he pressed it to his face. As he inhaled her sweet bubble gum scent, his dick thickened. He’d fucked it up good. Just like he knew he would.
He knew she had been confused, afraid, all of the things that go along with the fear of being emotionally wrecked. He recognized those same emotions in himself. Instead of pulling her into his arms and admitting he felt all of those things, too, he’d made sure she’d never want anything to do with him again. Pushed her away with lies.
He looked around the room, every trace of her removed except her scent. It was hours away from sunrise, he should go to bed, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep.
He grabbed his cell phone from his nightstand. There was a text from Maddox: Package safely delivered.
Thnx Flynn texted back.
When Maddox had called him over an hour ago and told him Pink had called, begging him to pick her up, Flynn stood down and let him. Away from him she was safe from him hurting her more.
As he poured himself a cup of coffee, Flynn looked down at the trashcan. The pink daisy he had bought when he thought he’d never see Pink again was in pieces at the bottom where she must have thrown it on her way out. He reached down and picked up the fragments of the clay pot and wilting petals. Gently he set them down on the buffet. There was no putting them back together. The pot was in too many pieces and the stem torn from the root base.
The irony struck him and with it he made a decision. Once this case was closed and Pink no longer in danger, he was putting in for a transfer. He was due. He’d spent the last several years in the Oakland field office and had begun to feel antsy since last year. Meeting Pink had put the brakes on his urge to move on, but for both their sakes it would be the best thing. Out of sight, out of mind. He would do his thing and she would go to law school and do her thing.
Why, he wondered as he sat down at his desk, didn’t that make him feel any better? Booting up his laptop, Flynn sipped his coffee. He trusted the task force guys to do their job, but he didn’t trust them to watch out for Pink like he would. To that end, he would watch over her, but from afar and she would never know. There was peace for him in that.
When his cell phone vibrated, his stomach flipped. Was it Pink? Had she changed her mind?
It was Maddox.
“Ryker,” he said.
“Miroslav Bushnik just touched down at a private airstrip in Marin. Word has it he’s meeting up with Sorlov at the club tonight to pick up girls. I’m telling you this, Flynn, as a courtesy because Miss Fuentes has agreed to go in tonight and plant the bug on him.”
Flynn clenched his phone so tight his knuckles hurt.
“You there, Ryker?”
“I’m not sitting this one out,” Flynn said. The last thing Flynn wanted was for Pink to go back to Surf’s Up. Maybe if he hadn’t let her go, she’d listen to him, but he knew how determined she was to find her sister and how stubborn she could be. He didn’t stand a chance. All he could do was stay close and protect her.