Rules of Contact

by Jaci Burton

  Mia nodded. "Fast enough to stay away from Flynn and my other brothers."

  Amelia did not like the sound of that potential game situation. "In that case, I'll be sure to stay out of the way when I'm there this month."

  "Oh, no," Flynn said. "We'll get you in the game."

  "Ha." Amelia grabbed her bag and followed Flynn and Mia to the door. "I'm steering clear of you bloodthirsty Cassidys."

  "You are not lumping me into that group of heathens. You and I can sit on the sidelines, drink margaritas with my mom and make fun of them."

  "Sounds like a plan."

  Flynn held the elevator door for them. "I will get you in the game, Amelia."

  She leaned against the wall and gave him her best smile. "We'll see about that, Flynn."

  When they reached the main floor and got out, Flynn led them through the complex and out one of the back doors to a parking lot. Mia climbed into the backseat of Flynn's SUV.

  "We thought we'd stop for drinks somewhere, and food," Mia said.

  "But mostly drinks," Amelia added.

  Flynn gave both of them a look. "I think you both drank your way through my game today."

  Mia shrugged. "Maybe."

  They drove back to the city, and that took a while because of all the postgame traffic. But they talked about the game. Flynn asked her if she enjoyed it, and Amelia was honest in telling him she had. Even if she'd been sitting at the top of the stadium in the wind and cold, she'd have had a great time. There was something about being at a game instead of watching it on TV that was exhilarating.

  "I don't know if it was the noise of the crowd, with everyone screaming every time the Sabers made a play, or the camaraderie of the group we sat with, but it was like a shared experience. So much fun, a lot of laughing."

  "Don't forget the drinking," Mia added from the backseat.

  Amelia laughed. "Yes, there was definitely that. And the wine was very good. Whoever makes the bar selections has superior taste."

  Flynn's lips curved. "I'll be sure to pass that along to the stadium folks."

  "You do that," Mia said. "Because good wine is everything in a football game."

  Amelia frowned. "Who said that? Chaucer?"

  "I think it was Hemingway."

  "I think I should take you two home, fix you a meal with some coffee and put you both to bed."

  Amelia wrinkled her nose. "Are you insane? It's still early."

  "In case you forget, we played the late game today. It's already dark outside."

  Amelia craned her neck to look out the window. "Is not."

  Flynn laughed. "You're drunk."

  "She totally is," Mia said. "I can attest to that."

  "You're drunk, too," Flynn said. "I think we'll order pizza."

  "Oooh," Mia said. "I love pizza."

  Amelia twisted in her seat so she could face Mia. "Me, too. What kind should we have?"

  "Sausage. With mushrooms."

  "Now I'm hungry. How could I be hungry? We ate so much food."

  Mia shrugged. "I dunno. But I'm hungry."

  *

  Flynn rolled his eyes for the millionth time as Amelia and his sister ventured into yet another ridiculous topic, this time which of the "Real Housewives" of Beverly Hills was the biggest bitch. He had no idea who the housewives were or what they were talking about.

  All he knew was that he was damn happy when he pulled into the driveway of the house. The two of them had babbled nonstop at each other the entire way home, mostly about nonsensical stuff. For God's sake, they'd spent twenty minutes dissecting nail polish colors.

  Then again, that topic had been better than the female things. They'd even discussed their periods and cramps and tampons. In front of him. As if he wasn't even there. And one of the women in the car was his sister.

  This was stuff he did not need to know about.

  "I'm ordering pizza," he said as he whipped out his phone. "Tell me what you want."

  "Sausage and mushroom," Mia said.

  Amelia nodded. "Sounds good to me."

  He ordered a pizza for them and another for himself. He was hungry and figured they could split one and he could have another for himself. While the two of them poured iced tea--thankfully nothing alcoholic--from the fridge, he grabbed a beer.

  He definitely deserved a beer. Or maybe five. It had been a hard-fought battle on the field, and then a long drive home.

  He laid his phone on the counter and headed into the living room.

  "So then he said to me--'Oh, babe, I don't like to eat pussy.' Like I was supposed to be okay with that?"

  "What an asshole," Amelia said. "And he thought it was okay for you to give him a blowjob, but he wouldn't return the favor by going down on you? I assume you ended it after that."

  "You have never seen a woman kick a guy out of her bed faster."

  Flynn blinked listening to the conversation between his girlfriend and his sister, turned around and walked out of the room.

  He even considered leaving the house entirely, but pizza was on the way. So he wandered upstairs and answered some e-mails and texts on his phone until he heard the pizza guy pull up in the driveway. He figured it was safe to come downstairs then, so he paid for the pizza and they all sat and ate at the kitchen island.

  "Where did you disappear to?" Mia asked.

  "Upstairs. Had to answer some e-mails."

  "Oh, okay."

  He wasn't about to tell them he'd run like hell when they'd gotten into sex talk. He wasn't shy about sex by any means. And he sure as hell would love to talk sex with Amelia. But with his sister around? That was a big N-O. He knew she was of age and no doubt had an active sex life, just like any normal, healthy woman. But to be in the middle of two women discussing oral sex, one of those women being his sister?

  He intended to nope the hell out of that one for the rest of his life.

  Fortunately, right now they were both stuffing their faces, so neither of them were talking, which suited him just fine.

  After they ate, Mia put her plate and glass in the dishwasher. "I need to pack."

  Amelia frowned. "You're heading back to Texas tomorrow?"

  "Unfortunately, yes. Fortunately, though, I'll see you in just a couple of weeks."

  Amelia slid out of her seat and pulled Mia into a hug. "I'll miss you. Text me."

  "I will. I want that recipe for the corn chowder."

  "I'll e-mail it to you."

  "Awesome."

  Flynn looked over at Mia. "I'll probably drive Amelia home, so I'll be back later."

  Mia nodded. "Not a problem. I intend to pack, then I'm going to put on my pajamas and pass out. So I'll see you in the morning."

  "Okay. Good night."

  "Good night, Mia," Amelia said.

  "Night."

  After Mia walked out, Amelia looked at him. "Is that my cue that you'd like me to hurry up and finish my pizza?"

  "No. It was me telling my sister that if she happened to wander back over here, I might be gone."

  "Good. Because I intend to finish this piece. It's really good."

  He ended up eating another slice of pizza, too.

  "I'm glad you get along so well with Mia."

  She gave him a quizzical look. "I love your sister. Why wouldn't I get along with her?"

  "I didn't mean it like I was surprised or anything. It just makes me happy. My girlfriend and my sister get along. You know. It's like a good thing."

  She crinkled her nose. "Oh. I see. And now I'm your girlfriend? First we were just dating."

  "Are you being cranky or is that some kind of problem?"

  "Which part? The girlfriend or the dating?"

  He rolled his eyes. "Both, I guess. Which part were you talking about?"

  "Neither. I just didn't know I was your girlfriend. Then again, I didn't know we were dating, either, until you told me."

  Amelia confused him. "Okay. I'm . . . sorry?"

  "You don't sound sorry."

  It had bee
n a long day. He was tired. He knew Amelia was probably tired, too, and this was the wrong damn time to have this conversation. But now he was irritated. "So because I called you my girlfriend I've pissed you off."

  "No . . . I don't know. Maybe. Maybe I'd just like to be asked once in a while instead of told."

  Flynn dragged his fingers through his hair and dragged in a deep breath, then let it out. "Okay, so you don't want to be called my girlfriend. How about the woman I'm fucking?"

  She leveled a glare at him. "Now, that was insulting."

  He widened his arms. "Then I don't know how to talk about us, Amelia. What do you want from me?"

  "I don't want anything from you, Flynn. We're just going out. We're having some fun together. Isn't that enough? Why do we have to put labels on it? Why do you have to attach yourself to me? Or why can't we talk about it before you announce that I'm your girlfriend? You don't own me, you know."

  And now it was ownership. He had no idea how this conversation had taken such a wrong turn. He'd had enough and before things got ugly between them he needed to put a stop to it. "Okay, I think I should take you home."

  "That sounds like a really good idea." She got up and grabbed her purse and headed toward the door, obviously as ready for some separation as he was.

  They went outside and it was clear she didn't want to be anywhere near him, because she shot around to the passenger side of the SUV in a hurry, so he didn't even bother trying to go over there to open the door for her. Instead, he slid into the driver's side.

  The short drive to her place was made in tense silence. When he pulled in front of her house, Flynn struggled to say something, anything to break the tension between them. But Amelia unbuckled her seat belt and opened her door, apparently in a hurry to get away from him.

  "Thanks for letting me come to the game today. I had a good time."

  "You're welcome."

  "Good night, Flynn." She shut the door and headed inside her house without even a backward glance.

  He thought maybe the short drive would have cooled off her temper. He guessed not.

  Fine. This wasn't his fault. Calling Amelia his girlfriend wasn't some kind of crime. He put the car in gear and headed home.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Amelia stared into her cup of coffee, looking for answers. Or maybe a cure for the raging headache that throbbed incessantly between her temples.

  Never again was she going to drink that much wine, because it obviously made her behave like a complete bitch.

  She was so glad today was her day off, because if she had to go to work tonight it would be brutal.

  She'd come home last night, tossed her purse on the sofa, then opened a bottle and had yet another glass, which had only ended up tasting sour to her. In the end, she'd gone to bed but had been unable to sleep, convinced she'd been in the right. Her subconscious, on the other hand, had other ideas. She'd lain awake for hours, unable to sleep while she'd replayed the conversation between Flynn and her.

  So he'd called her his girlfriend. Why had that irritated her so much? She'd spent several hours staring at the dark ceiling of her bedroom last night trying to figure that out.

  She'd been leery of relationships ever since her divorce. The last thing she'd wanted was to tumble into yet another relationship with a man who'd want to control her. So maybe Flynn's labeling of her as his girlfriend triggered something that made her uncomfortable, and she hadn't even realized it. Then, subconsciously, she'd lashed out at him for no reason at all. Because if there was one thing she knew, it was that Flynn was nothing like her ex-husband. He was kind and encouraging and not at all controlling.

  She heaved a sigh, then took another sip of coffee.

  She owed Flynn a huge apology. If he intended to ever speak to her again.

  When her phone buzzed, she reached across the table to check it. Surprisingly, it was a text from Flynn.

  Are you awake yet?

  She smiled and texted back. Having coffee. What are you doing?

  Just got home from taking Mia to the airport.

  At least he was speaking to her. That was a good sign.

  If you're not busy, would you like to come by for coffee? She texted back to him, then waited, chewing on her bottom lip.

  Be there in 10 mins.

  She hadn't realized she was holding her breath on his reply until she received it. She exhaled, then dashed into the downstairs bathroom to examine herself. She'd showered when she first got up to see if that would help jolt her awake, so her hair, though kind of a mess, was at least clean, as was the rest of her. But she definitely looked like she hadn't slept last night. There were dark circles under her eyes and she didn't have time to make herself look presentable.

  With a sigh, she turned off the bathroom light and went to brew more coffee. She wondered if Flynn had eaten breakfast this morning. If not, she could--

  He knocked at the door so she went to answer it. Her heart pounded as she took in the sight of him wearing a dark blue peacoat and black jeans. It was cold out this morning so she shut the door after him in a hurry.

  "Hey," he said.

  "Hey. I made coffee. Take your coat off and come have some."

  "Okay, thanks."

  He followed her into the kitchen. She poured a cup of coffee and handed it to him.

  "Thanks." He wrapped his hands around the mug.

  "It's cloudy and cold outside today," she said, feeling ridiculous for talking about the weather.

  "Yeah. Looks like it could rain."

  At least he'd jumped all over the weather conversation. But since she'd started their fight, and he'd been nice enough to text her this morning, it was up to her to break the icy wall between them. "Flynn. About last night."

  "Yeah, about that. Look, Amelia. I'm really sorry. I assumed our relationship and that's on me."

  "No. You didn't do anything wrong. I had too much to drink, and then my mouth opened and everything awful came out. I did a lot of thinking and not sleeping last night and I came to the realization that I thought you were trying to control me. Which, by the way, you weren't. I guess it was ghosts of the ex coming back to haunt me and I was being overly sensitive. Which, by the way, is no excuse. So I'm the one who's sorry. I was out of line. Like . . . really out of line."

  He came over to her and swept his hand over her hair. "It's okay. You're entitled. You had a bad experience and it's all right if that affects you every now and then. Now, can you forgive me for not reacting well?"

  "Given how shitty I behaved, there's nothing to forgive. I'm surprised you're even speaking to me. Frankly, I'm shocked you didn't fire me."

  He frowned. "Amelia. Let's get one thing straight right now. Our relationship is now and always will be separate from the job. One has nothing to do with the other. You could tell me right now to go fuck myself and you'll still have a job tomorrow. You understand?"

  She nodded. "Yes."

  "Okay."

  She appreciated the line of demarcation separating their personal relationship from their work relationship. And he'd given her a really nice out considering her bad behavior from yesterday. She laid her forehead against his chest. "Thank you for understanding about yesterday."

  He put his coffee cup down on the kitchen island, then tipped her chin up with his finger. "So we're okay now?"

  She smiled at him. "Yes, we're okay now."

  He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. This was what she needed, that affirmation of affection, of warmth between them. She'd felt so awful last night and this morning, not only because of how she'd behaved, but also because she'd missed him. She was grateful to find him so understanding.

  And now, as he pulled her against him, she wanted to show him how much she appreciated him as a man. She leaned into him, pressing her body against his hard muscle, drawing in his strength as he deepened the kiss. When he let his hand roam down her back to cup her butt and draw her sex closer to his rigid erection, she moaned against his lips.

&n
bsp; He pulled back. "I need to fuck you."

  She nodded, every part of her trembling with the same need. "Yes. Right now."

  She thought he'd take her hand and lead her to the bedroom. Instead, he swept her sweater off her shoulders and laid it on the bar stool, then pulled her tank top off, filling his hands with her breasts. His mouth was next and she whimpered at the heat and wetness as he sucked her nipple. She held on to his arms as he took her to that place where every part of her quivered with awareness.

  When he popped her nipple out of his mouth, he took her lips in a scorching kiss that only heated her desire to flaming levels.

  He quickly removed his shirt, then toed off his tennis shoes and shrugged out of his jeans and boxers, leaving him standing in her kitchen oh so erect and incredibly gorgeous.

  He kneeled on the floor to pull her sweats down and followed through with her underwear. But instead of standing, he leaned in and swiped his tongue across her sex.

  She reached for the counter for support as he buried his tongue inside of her.

  "Flynn." His name fell as a needy, desperate whisper from her mouth. And when he moved from her pussy to her clit, using his tongue to tease and torture her until her legs were shaking, she leaned both elbows against the counter and spread her legs, giving him better access.

  His reply to that was to hum against her, the sound and sensation flooding her senses until she couldn't stand it any longer. She came with a rush and cry, shoving her sex against his face, demanding her orgasm from him.

  And oh, did he ever give it to her. He wrapped his arm around her buttocks and held tight to her as he buried his face against her while she came. Her climax obliterated her senses so hard she thought she might collapse onto the floor. Thankfully she had the counter and Flynn for support.

  When he stood, he kissed her, this time a slow, languorous kiss that sent her from simmer to fiery hot all over again.

  He turned her around and bent her over the counter, then fished into the pocket of his jeans for a condom.

  She looked at him over her shoulder, looked at the condom in his hand and gave him a crooked smile. "Sure thing?"

  He leaned over her and nipped at her shoulder. "Babe, you are anything but a sure thing."

  She liked the sound of that.

  He put the condom on, moved in between her legs and smoothed his hand over her hip.

  "You came good."

  She made a murmuring sound of approval. "Hell yes I did."

  "Do it again." He slid into her with a slow, easy glide that made goose bumps pop onto her skin.