Chapter 11
You’re not my knight in shining armor and don’t you forget it.
Sophia
I roll my head to the side and the smell of woodchips and teak oil hits me. I sniff to gather the scent in my lungs. Flynn’s smell always reminds me of woodworking class in high school and my dad’s hardware store. Two of my favorite things in the world.
Hold on. Flynn’s smell? Why am I smelling Flynn?
I force my eyes open but the second the bright light hits me, I slam them closed again. “Why is it this bright in the bar? Is it closing time already?”
Flynn chuckles. “We’re not in the bar, and I didn’t want to drop you while I carried you upstairs.”
Carry me upstairs? I realize his arms are around me as he carries me bridal style up the stairs. I should probably squirm for him to let me down. But I’m not an idiot. If this is the only time I’ll ever be in Flynn’s arms, I’m going to enjoy it.
I wrap my arms around his neck and snuggle into his hold. I sigh as his scent envelopes me. What I wouldn’t give to have his scent on the pillow next to mine in my bed every night.
He kicks the door to my bedroom open and switches on the light. “You good now?”
“Why wouldn’t I be good?”
He sets me on my feet. “Maybe because you drank too much and passed out in my truck.”
“I did not drink too much.” I have no recollection of how much I drank but if I’m still standing and wearing my clothes, it wasn’t too much. “Look. I can touch my index finger to my nose while hopping like a bunny.”
I demonstrate by touching my nose and hopping around the room while humming something about Peter Cottontail.
Fynn crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me, but his lips are turned up in a barely there smile. He’s amused and trying to hide it. I see you, Flynn Ryland. You can’t hide from me.
“I’m pretty sure the sobriety test doesn’t include bunny hopping.”
“Too bad,” I say as I stop in front of him. “Who doesn’t enjoy bunny hopping?”
“Hopping around your bedroom doesn’t exactly prove you’re sober.”
I wag a finger at him. “I never said I was sober. I said I didn’t drink too much. There’s a distinct difference.”
“If you aren’t drunk, why did you pass out in my truck?”
Maybe because I didn’t sleep much last night since I spent most of the night locking down my muscles before I ran down the hallway and pounced on him.
I don’t say those words, though. Nope. I’m in control of the words coming out of my mouth. See? Totally sober!
I roll my eyes instead. “I didn’t pass out. I fell asleep. Not the same thing.”
He scowls. “If you weren’t drunk, why’d you let some guy feel you up on the dance floor?”
He reminds me of a jealous lover. I shiver as I imagine how it would feel to have Flynn jealous because of me. I’d probably make him jealous on purpose. Just to view the storm clouds in those ocean blue eyes.
But there’s no reason to be jealous. Nothing happened. A little innocent dance.
“He didn’t feel me up. We were dancing until you crashed in and dragged me away, caveman.”
“He had his hands all over you.”
Oh, please, as if I allow any old man to get his hands all over me. There’s only one man I want to have his hands all over me. Unfortunately, he considers me his little sister.
“Guess what you do when you’re dancing, caveman? You touch the other person.”
He growls. “I don’t like it.”
I slow clap to hide how my body shivers at his growl. If only he would growl because I’m his woman, not the girl he considers his little sister.
“Congratulations, you don’t like what women do. You can join the group of misogynist pigs in the morning. They have their own merchandising these days.”
He stalks close to me, but I refuse to budge. I hold my ground. He can’t push me around just because he doesn’t approve of who I’m dancing with. My dancing has nothing to do with him. His choice. Not mine.
“I am not a misogynist pig.”
“Are you certain? Do you need me to explain misogynist to you?”
His nostrils flare. He’s holding in his temper. Barely. “I do not dislike women.”
“You can like women and be prejudiced against them at the same time. The two are not mutually exclusive.”
“I am not prejudiced against women.”
I raise my eyebrows. “And yet you think women can’t make their own choices when it comes to their dancing partner. Mis-o-gy-nist,” I speak slowly and enunciate the syllables as if he’s never heard the word before.
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “I don’t have a problem with women choosing their own dance partners.”
“Um, hello. Do I need to rewind the conversation for you? You literally said you didn’t want me dancing with some guy.”
“No,” he growls. “I said I didn’t want some guy feeling you up on the dance floor.”
I throw my arms in the air. “What’s it to you?” I lean close to hiss in his face. “I’m your little sister, remember?”
He palms my neck and squeezes. “You are not my little sister.”
I open my mouth to remind him of what he said to me all those years ago at my high school graduation party, but his lips crash down on mine before I get the chance. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth and I moan as his taste hits me. He tastes of beer and musk and Flynn.
It’s the taste I still remember from over a decade ago. The taste I can’t forget. The taste I want to bottle up to keep close to me.
He wraps an arm around my waist and draws me near. Until there’s no space between us. Until my hard nipples rub against his chest. Until I can feel his hard length press against my belly.
My belly warms in response and my panties dampen. I want this man. More than I’ve ever wanted another man before.
I’ve tried to forget him. Oh, how I’ve tried. But no other man could ever get me as excited as Flynn does with a simple kiss.
He uses his hand on my neck to tilt my head and dives in deeper. He groans and I feel the vibration all the way to my toes. My nerves tingle in anticipation of what’s to come. Of feeling Flynn buried deep inside of me.
I wrap my leg around his waist. “Flynn.”
He freezes before ending the kiss. He unwinds my leg from around him and retreats a few steps. “I…this…”
His mouth gapes open and closed a few more times as he considers what to say but he must not figure it out since he scowls before whirling around and marching away without saying another word.
I stand staring at the empty doorway. He did it again. He kissed me and fled. Like I’m a leaper he can’t stand to touch.
Whereas I was ready to strip him bare and let him do whatever he wanted to my body.
“Asshole,” I mutter before slamming my door shut. For good measure, I lock it, too. I doubt Flynn would deign to return. But on the off chance he does, I’m putting out the ‘you’re not welcome sign’.