21
Flynn’s not home when I get back to Hazel Cottage, so I pop upstairs to take a quick nap. I only mean to lie down for a few minutes and then get up and have a shower, but I wake an hour later to find a note on my pillow:
Gone for pizza, see you in a bit, and maybe we should have that talk, x.
My hair is stuck to the side of my face and I’m pretty sure that’s drool on my pillowcase. Not the seductive vibe I need to kick-start my shag Flynn plan. I wonder if that’s such a good idea, after all. Maybe some things are not meant to be memories, only dreams.
I drag myself into the shower, and the bathroom smells of sweet verbena, and as hot steam surrounds me, all I can think about is the smell of Flynn’s neck, the taste of his mouth, and the feel of his hands on my body.
And by the time I’m back in the bedroom, rooting through my underwear drawer for something sexier than my usual plain cotton, I’m glad I bought a pack of just-in-case condoms because I know I’m going to follow through on my plan.
Otherwise, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering. Otherwise, I’ll go out of my mind.
I find my powder-blue lace undies and put them on, then I hit shuffle on my phone and laugh when ‘Guess’ by Charli XCX pops up.
I’m singing along to the Billie Eilish bit when I remember I shoved the sheet of notepaper under my side of the bed.
Flynn’s already seen the headline, but I don’t want him going through the fine print until I have a chance to explain.
I lean over the edge of the bed and sing out loud to the music as I scrabble along the floorboards to locate my secret sex strategy.
It won’t be a secret for much longer if Flynn and I do have that talk.
And between my nap and this raunchy music and the feel of soft lace on my skin, I almost feel ready.
‘Pizza time. Woah. Fuck. Wow!’
‘Aagh.’ I pull my head up from the floor, but I’m too startled to move more than that.
Flynn’s clearly startled too. He’s frozen on the spot, staring down at me, stretched across the bed in flimsy blue lace that barely covers anything, and clutching a crumpled sheet of paper listing all the things I want to do with him, and all the things I want him to do for me.
I go to drop it behind me on the duvet, but a sneaky draught from the open window whips it from my shaking fingers and shoots it like a missile straight to Flynn.
He reaches out and grabs it and sweeps his eyes along the page.
His mouth hitches with a mix of amusement and surprise.
Then he swings his gaze back to me. His eyes widen as they travel down my almost naked body, the blacks of his pupils drowning out the blue.
He points to the crumpled sheet he’s holding.
‘So, this your plan, Gracie? This is really what you want?’
‘Nooo . . . well . . . maybe.’
I pull myself up on my knees and grab a pillow to preserve my modesty, although I think that went out the window when Flynn read my notes.
I glance about for something else to wrap around me, a cardi, pyjama top, anything, but Flynn’s standing at the foot of the bed, and every stitch I own is in the wardrobe behind him. And I’m too mortified to move.
‘Throw me a cardi, please, I’m a bit exposed here.’ I shuffle down the bed and point to my slouchy cardigan dangling on a shelf to his left.
He folds his arms and shoots a cheeky grin.
‘Hmm, you know, I’m not sure I should.’ He moves closer so he’s right at the end of the bed.
‘You’ve done more than your share of ogling me half naked in a towel.
And doing my morning push-ups.’ He stretches to see around my pillow and my cheeks blaze. ‘Maybe it’s my turn now.’
‘Flynn!’ I lift my pillow to flick at his chest but he’s too quick for me.
He grabs it and throws it aside then takes hold of my hands, gentle but firm, and my legs turn to jelly.
I smell forest air and lemon and the scent of a man who’s been working his muscles hard, and the thought of those muscles beneath his T-shirt has heat pooling low in my belly and sparks pricking fire beneath my skin.
‘So, this plan of yours. I thought we were supposed to talk about it first.’ He leans over me and arches his brows, but my throat feels raw and all I manage is a soft whimper.
I stare up at him and he’s so close the cool cotton of his T-shirt brushes my breasts, and his eyes drop to the flimsy see-through lace.
His voice comes out hoarse as he says, ‘Do you still want to talk first, Gracie?’
I shake my head, my body betraying me. I should say yes, let’s talk.
I should at least explain where I’m coming from.
But right now, talking is the last thing on my mind.
Flynn lets go of one hand and hooks his thumb under the strap of my bra, sliding it along my shoulder.
Then he skims his fingers down my arm and across to the thin strip of lace at my hip.
His eyes meet mine, raw and hungry, and my head spins, my body pulses.
I’ve never felt this before in my life. Not with Jamie, not with anyone.
I’m so aching with want, I’d do anything Flynn asked of me, just to feel him inside me, to have his bare skin cover mine.
‘It’s up to you, Gracie,’ he says softly, although the look in his eyes is anything but soft, his body betraying him too. ‘I can get you that cardigan and we can go downstairs and have pizza, and talk, if that’s what you want.’
‘It’s not.’ I shake my head frantically.
I hear the catch in his breath, the low rasp at the back of his throat. He twines his fingers through mine, and the next thing I know, I’m on my back on the daisy print duvet and Flynn’s leaning over me, knees straddling my hips, palms pinning mine by the side of my head.
He dips his head and his teeth graze the line of my neck, nip at my collarbone, drag to the soft blue lace of my bra. ‘Is this what you want?’
‘Yeah.’ I nod twice. ‘Please.’ I arch my body to get closer.
He feels too far away and I need my hands free to tear off that T-shirt and those jeans.
I push against his palms and he smiles down at me like he has all the time in the world, though his body tells me otherwise.
He presses a silky kiss to my mouth, and I quiver and arch again as he pulls back.
‘Flynn.’
‘Gracie.’ He rolls over and pulls me with him, one arm firm around my waist, the other stroking down the curve of my hip to the top of my thigh.
‘You want to shag me?’
I nod. God, yes.
‘Not have sex with me? Not make love to me? Shag me?’ He shakes his head, fake frowning like he’s so disappointed, but I can tell by the upward curve of his mouth, the light in his eyes, that he’s not. I want that mouth on mine, his eyes on my body, those damn clothes off his body now.
He loosens his grip on my waist, and I pull up a few inches to slide my hand between us. God, I need him naked, so bad. ‘I don’t care what you call it, Flynn. Screw, shag, whatever. Just take these off.’ I snatch at his T-shirt, tug the top button of his jeans.
‘So rude.’ He grips me tight again and lands one firm slap on my ass, and I gasp into his chest. Oh boy, we are way past friends now. Then I’m on my back again, and Flynn’s T-shirt is gone, and I’m fumbling desperately with the buttons of his jeans.
‘Gracie.’ He takes my hands, pins them with his palms again. ‘I’ve waited ten years. I’m not going to rush this.’ His eyes hold mine and I’m not that sixteen-year-old girl any more, and he’s not that boy. But we’re still us. I feel it deep in my centre. It’s everything.
His lips brush mine but they don’t linger.
His mouth sweeps down my throat to the swell of my breasts and his teeth tug at the lace of my bra.
‘You’re so sexy. This is so sexy. But it has to go.
’ He releases my hands and reaches behind me to unhook the clasp, but I get there first. My nipples are tight, my whole body on fire, but Flynn takes his time like he said he would, mapping my body like he’s burning me into his brain.
And it should feel weird, this is Flynn and me, but it feels so right, it feels perfect, like sweet summer rain on parched desert sand.
His eyes lift to mine then he lowers his head, inhaling, tasting, devouring me with his mouth until I’m trembling and gasping and moaning out swear words I’ve never used before, not once in my life.
His hands take over, thumbs circling my nipples, teasing, and pinching, and driving me crazy as his tongue licks down my belly, inching lower until his lips graze the powder-blue lace between my thighs.
He trails his fingers down the curve of my waist to my hipbone, hooks one thumb beneath the strip of lace at my side.
‘These have to go too.’ His voice is low and urgent, but he moves his hands to either side of me, leaving me space, telling me with his eyes this decision is mine.
I don’t hesitate; there’s no doubt in my mind.
I reach down and tear off the last scrap of fabric between my body and Flynn’s.
I need him free. Unconstrained. I need him everywhere.
He dips his head between my thighs and the rasp of stubble against skin blazes heat through my core.
I never craved this with Jamie, I always felt too vulnerable, too exposed.
But everything about this feels natural, and Flynn’s touch is so careful and deliberate, like he’s been planning this for years.
My body pulses, my mind unravels, and my hands twist through his hair, as his tongue licks and flicks and circles, and fingers follow, purposefully stroking, over and over, until a hot jolt of pleasure shoots through me and I cry out his name.
Flynn groans low and satisfied as though he’s the one coming back from a mind-melting orgasm, body trembling with aftershocks, but I’m pretty sure that’s me. I gaze down as his eyes lift to mine, glinting through the low dusky light.
‘You okay, Gracie?’ The corners of his mouth curve as he glides up to meet me, but all I manage is a soft silky purr. His eyes glisten. ‘Think you could take a little more?’
His smile is delicious, and he nuzzles my earlobe, and that sweet verbena smell mixed with musky male sweat drives me crazy, and my gaze travels down his broad chest to the tight, toned lines of his stomach, and I feel him hard and pulsing against me.
Fuck. That’s not little. But I want it. I’ll take it.
I’ll take everything Flynn wants to give me and I know I’ll always crave more.
My breath catches, my mouth waters, and my head fills with all the ways I could make Flynn cry my name the same way he made me cry out his.
But I’m still drowsy, sinking beneath the warm, heady weight of pleasure, and I’ve waited too, years of yearning, years of missing him so much, and I need his body in mine.
I clutch at the waistband of his jeans. ‘I left condoms in the locker.’
He lifts his head, and he must see the sheer desperate greed in my eyes because he reaches into the locker then tugs off his jeans and boxers with a groan even hungrier than my own, and I almost come again at the sight of him. I don’t even know who I am any more.
‘Fuck, Gracie. Fuck,’ is all he says, voice hoarse, breath ragged, as I arch up to take him, mouth moaning swear words into the soft skin at his throat, fingers clawing the firm muscle of his thighs, because I can’t get close enough, I just can’t, until I can, and as the wind howls outside our window, and Flynn moves harder, faster, deeper, all those sad, lonely years of missing him so much wash away, and my vision goes blurry and heat surges through me, and I’m lost on a wave of pure, perfect pleasure, and I don’t think about the morning, I don’t think about tomorrow, because nothing else matters, because we’ll always have this.