Throwing her hands in the air, she ran and twirled. “This is so fun!” She should probably stop because they had work to—
A solid force tackled her from behind.
She didn’t hit as hard as she feared, Flynn’s arm banded around her to cradle her to his chest as he lowered them.
“You drive me crazy.” His voice was gruff, his hands lifting her shirt.
Breathing hard, she only helped him. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Come here anytime and do that.” He kissed her hard and released her to yank her shirt off. “But be warned, it gets me hot as fuck.”
She reached for the bulge in his shorts and palmed him. He groaned and pushed down her bottoms.
“How are we…” There was nothing but grass, and it was a highly maintained lawn, but to have sex on it?
He ripped open a condom packet. “Hands and knees.”
She jutted her chin toward the wrapper he’d tossed next to them. “Invisible utility belt?”
“Never leave home without it. Kneel.”
Ooh, she liked bossy Flynn. She did as ordered, falling to her hands. He rolled her leggings just past her ass, limiting her mobility.
Strong hands grabbed her hips and a rush of desire came with his touch. He was intense, demanding, and she liked this side of Flynn as much as when he was frantic to get inside of her.
Straddling her legs, he parted her folds and pushed inside. She was already wet enough for him, no foreplay other than him tackling her required.
He took her hard and rough. His hands didn’t leave her hips. He didn’t whisper words of beauty or love. He just drove into her over and over.
It was perfect. The hard smack of his balls was all the stimulation her clit needed. She reached her peak and fisted grass.
“Flynn. Harder.”
He complied. She bowed her back to open herself up to him. Grass ripped from the lawn. She grabbed more. He pounded her until she screamed his name.
With a roar, he arched back behind her, his cock jerking and pulsing. They finished together.
He sagged over her, still seated inside. “Fuck, that was intense.”
“Next time,” she panted, “I’m shouting Puddin’ all over the yard.”
His dick twitched inside of her. “I’m never going to get the roof started if you keep talking like that. But just in case, plan to do it next Saturday.”
“Deal.”
He withdrew and covered himself with his shorts before helping her straighten her clothing and stand. She hadn’t expected intimacy, but he cupped her chin and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
“Wanna back the truck out and shut the door? I need to change into my work clothes.”
As they walked back to the house, hand in hand, she couldn’t stop her grin. He’d tried to forget her for weeks, but within hours, he’d introduced her to his people, brought her to his house, and even trusted her with his expensive ride. If only she could go back to her sixteen-year-old self and tell her not to worry, it’d all be okay.
***
Flynn fought to hold still as Tilly dabbed aloe gel on his shoulders. He hissed and jerked away, then sighed and relaxed back. Each new spot she spread the green goop, he reacted the same way.
“We underestimated the power of the sun.” She spread the gel around to cover the angry red sunburn.
“And how the black shingles amplify it. I baked myself.” He’d put on sunblock but worked through the day without stopping to reapply it.
Squirting more aloe gel into her hand, she covered him with another coat. Her touch was light, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t want her pressed against him. Having her around was fun, though. She’d also spent a lot of time outside bringing him refreshments and running tools up the ladder.
The roof was done and it was almost suppertime. He’d worked late last night and then been up and hammering away this morning as soon they’d had another round—or two—of sex. He was tempted to bring her to his house, where he could fill his tub with tepid water to soothe his inflamed skin, then have her crawl in with him.
She tossed the gel aside and sat back on the couch. “You haven’t mentioned going for a run once all weekend.”
He shrugged and winced. “I don’t need to when I do this work all day.”
“So being in an office stresses you out? You don’t enjoy it.”
“Why do you say that?” Was it that obvious? He grabbed her remote to flip the TV on. She had no cable. He scanned through the stations she did get. Nothing.
“Just how you acted on vacation. On day one, I thought you were going to work the whole week, but by day seven, you never touched your laptop. Then this weekend. You were still in your suit after most offices had been closed for hours.”
That was his life. “There’s not a damn thing on.” He tossed the remote down. “Do you have any movies?”
She gave him a droll look and pointed to the box by the TV. “Pick your poison. Michael Keaton Batman, post–Michael Keaton inferior-nineties Batmans, Christian Bale Batman—my favorite—or Ben Affleck Batman. Or we can change it up. CGI Green Lantern or Deadpool. How about Marvel? I’ve got Tobey Maguire Spider-Man or Andrew Garfield Spider-Man. Or the new guy. You’d be surprised how quickly newly released DVDs end up at the thrift store. I love it. If you’re not in a superhero mood, I found the whole series of Downton Abbey at a pawnshop. We can learn the fine art of insults from the dowager countess.”
“Who?” Flynn shook his head. “Never mind, I’ll go with new-guy Spider-Man.”
He was crawling to the box to dig the movie out when the faint chime of music caught his attention. “Is that your phone?”
“Hmm?” She pried her gaze off his ass in his carpenter jeans. He was man enough to admit that he relished the way she checked him out in his work clothes.
The theme song to My Little Pony played from the kitchen. For a moment, he was transported back to his childhood, watching cartoons while his sister belted out the song. His throat constricted. He never remembered the good times anymore.
“Oh shit.” She ran to grab it and he kept looking for the movie.
The movie was in and set up. Tilly’s voice resonated from the kitchen in strangely even, though upbeat tones. Work call?
He eased back onto the couch, careful of his shoulders. Glancing around her small living room, he mentally tallied all the projects he could do. Repaint the ceiling—water damage had seeped through at some point. The entire place could use a fresh coat of paint, in something other than primer white. Every window could be replaced. The house was over forty years old. The carpet and laminate weren’t original, but they were still outdated. He didn’t have to use the appliances to know they were old and sucked energy.
If he had a place like this, he’d have weekend projects for a year.
Tilly rushed out, her face bright with excitement. He smiled just watching her. Her shorts today were a vivid purple with yellow trim and her white shirt didn’t hide her fuchsia bra.
“I have a new client!” She bounced on the couch, but far enough away she didn’t jostle the fabric against his skin.
“Awesome.” Anything more than word-of-mouth advertising probably wasn’t in her budget. For new clients to find her, she had to be good. He didn’t have to see her work to know she was amazing at her job. Her caring and enthusiasm were obvious.
“They want twice a week, even through the school year. I can’t wait to meet the girl.”
“You’re okay working all day with kids and then tutoring at night?” And she said he put in long days.
She lifted a shoulder. “It’s fun. I won’t lie, it can be tiring. It sounds clichéd, but teaching is very rewarding.”
Flynn could make a list of why his work was rewarding and it’d be laughable next to hers. “You’re a good person.”
She smiled and snuggled into him. He didn’t mind the sting when he put his arm around her.
“So are you.” She dropped a kiss on h
is chest.
He punched start for the movie. “No. I’m not.”
Trailing her fingers along the ridges of his stomach, she met his gaze. “Why wouldn’t you think so? You do a lot for others. Seriously, you’d have to hurt a kid for me to hate you.” She switched her attention to the TV.
His mom’s screams rang as clear as the day it had happened. You almost killed your sister again!
Chapter Twelve
Flynn wrapped up a call with a prospective client looking to build a large-format retail store. That was one thing Minneapolis and the surrounding areas didn’t slack in. Winning bids and finishing projects would keep him at the top. Clients loved that he was local, a homegrown kid, and it helped that Abe had built a prime reputation during his years. Flynn was using that momentum to bid for educational facilities. The way the population grew, he’d never run out of work between retail, new builds, and renovation projects for schools and athletic facilities. It’d been a market he’d set his sights on as soon as he gained control.
A message from his executive assistant popped up on his monitor. Someone brought you lunch? But she’s not leaving.
Dammit. He popped up. No one knew he was seeing anyone and his assistant was ferocious about who gained access to his office. His personal assistant was almost as bad. If Matthew ever got ahold of Tilly, she’d get an interrogation just short of violent.
Tilly had commented that he probably worked through lunch. And yes, if he didn’t have a meet-and-greet over a meal, it’s not like he packed anything. He hadn’t thought she was serious about bringing him food.
He rushed to the door and took a second to smooth himself and check his hair. It wouldn’t do to let his staff see him lose his cool over Tilly.
He froze with his hand on the doorknob. It was Monday. Wacky Monday. Oh god, what if she was dressed for it?
Did it matter?
No. But his heart rate didn’t get the message.
He opened the door in a smooth motion. Tilly, dressed in jean shorts and a plain purple top, stared out the window, commenting on the view. Professional pride spiked. He had been with Abe when he’d picked this location for his new office building, using it as his gateway into corporate construction, proof of his abilities. Their offices took up the top two floors. The four floors below them were filled with financial advisers, lawyers, and various consultants. Many of them Flynn used in his own business, if he didn’t staff them already.
“I mean, look at that sky.” Tilly’s breath fogged the window. His assistant, Mrs. Silverstein, tightened her hand around her pen. “It’s like there’s not even glass here, it’s so clear.”
“Not anymore,” Mrs. Silverstein said evenly. Tilly took an abrupt step back and clasped her hands behind her back.
He was caught between irritation at his assistant for making Tilly feel unwelcome and his need to rescue Tilly without making a scene. “What’s that delicious smell?”
She spun around, a wide smile on her face. That grin was fast becoming the reason he looked forward to each day. Her laughter buoyed his spirit after days of catering to people, trying to win their business and be congenial and efficient enough to have them recommend him to others. The three weeks after vacation had been Groundhog Day, the same routine over and over again. Even if his actions weren’t identical to those of the day before, his goals and outlook for each day were.
In contrast, the three weeks after tracking Tilly down at the movies had been a blur. He’d delegated more duties to both his personal and executive assistants, receiving inquiring looks that he ignored. Work still went late, but he was out of the office by eight p.m. at the latest. Tilly didn’t tutor past seven, and he had a driving need to taste her every night, even if they fell into bed without having sex.
Tilly adjusted a narrow headband that shone suspiciously like a small tiara. “I made chicken alfredo, but I left the pasta out of yours. So really, you get chicken and sauce.”
His stomach rumbled as soon as she finished the description. Tilly picked up her tote bag full of food and shot Mrs. Silverstein a smile. The woman’s lips were pursed, and her gaze darted from the food to Tilly to her tiara.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Halstengard. I didn’t realize you were expecting company.” Ah, so Mrs. Silverstein was more upset that he hadn’t updated her on his plans than how Tilly looked or acted. He hoped.
He inclined his head. As much as he respected his assistant, she could be overbearing. She was no-nonsense, and after having raised five boys, she didn’t put up with much bullshit, even from him. All traits he normally appreciated and relied upon. But when it came to his personal life, he…couldn’t figure out why he was so defensive about Tilly.
“Thank you, Mrs. Silverstein.” He gave Tilly a reassuring smile. “Come on in, Tilly.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and led her in.
“Ohmigosh. I almost got stopped at the front door because they thought I was delivering the pizzas they’d ordered. Then her. I thought she was going to haul me out by force. I was like, seriously, just ask him.”
He guided her to his conference table. She set the bag down and started setting out the stuff. Her mouth was set in a line and hurt glimmered in her eyes.
“Did she insult you?” he asked sharply.
“No. It’s nothing. Just not what I expected when I wanted to bring you lunch.”
“I’m sorry. I forgot you even mentioned it, or I would’ve informed Mrs. Silverstein.”
“No problem.” Tilly dished out their food. She slapped chicken and peas on his plate, while hers steamed with fresh pasta mixed with grilled chicken.
He wolfed down his food, hungrier than expected. She munched on hers.
“What’s really wrong?” he asked.
Tilly pushed her plate away, her eyes downcast. “She didn’t know who I was.”
“I don’t talk about my personal life with my staff.” He hadn’t had much of a personal life before summer started.
“Your personal assistant—what’s his name?”
“Matthew.”
“Yeah, Matthew. He was leaving for lunch and Mrs. Silverstein asked him if you’d ever mentioned me.” She folded her hands in her lap, looking more solemn than he’d ever seen. “What are we?”
“We’re…us.” His food turned to lead in his gut. Hot, savory food that she’d cooked just for him. Then brought here and gotten deeply insulted for the trouble.
Her gray gaze lifted to his. “What is ‘us’? Are you still ashamed of me?”
He got down on his knees and crept toward her. She didn’t move, but she didn’t reach for him.
“Tilly, before you, I had no one to talk about. I made sure I had no one to talk about. My focus has been this company and keeping it thriving. This relationship is new territory for me.”
“You still didn’t answer.” She stroked his cheek, her look sober. “Are you ashamed of me?”
He recalled his first thought after she’d arrived. Wacky Monday. “Of course not. I’m a private man.”
“I don’t want to be your Crazy J again.” Her hand trembled. This was really scaring her.
He wasn’t ashamed of her; he was ashamed of himself for not being strong enough, thoughtful enough, to keep her from feeling this way. He dragged her to the edge of her chair and closer to him. “Hey. It turns out my Crazy J was a pretty phenomenal girl and I was an ignorant idiot.”
She softened under his touch. “Are you sure this was okay?”
“Yes.” He kissed her forehead, then her cheek. “I’ll check my schedule and you can bring me lunch whenever I don’t have a meeting.” He made his way to her lips.
She kissed him back and he couldn’t keep himself from deepening the kiss. He swept his tongue along the seam of her mouth until she opened for him. Yes. Blood raged through his veins, heading to his groin.
He wanted her naked, and he wanted her now.
“Flynn,” she murmured. “We can’t do this in your office.”
“I’m th
e boss.” He tugged at her waistband.
She looked around. His windows filled an entire wall on two sides and were reflective enough that no one could see in.
While she was deciding, he freed his shaft and dug out protection—so he was ready if she said yes. For good measure, he flung his tie over his shoulder.
She turned her bright gaze on him. That was what he wanted to see. Excitement and desire instead of shame.
“You’re so hot,” she growled and yanked him toward her by the shirt.
He couldn’t tell her, or anyone else in words, what she meant to him, but he proceeded showing her while she opened him up to the possibilities of office sex.
***
Tilly veered around her room. “Pants. Pants. Pants.” Hanging with Flynn all weekend had left her low on laundry, but she hadn’t wanted to miss one second of the positions they’d come up with in his hot tub.
Coming back to her house after a weekend at his bachelor pad was like zooming out 200 percent. Her rental had never seemed small before. When she showered at Flynn’s, it was certainly noticeable when she forgot to get a towel ready. In her place, all she had to was lean out and grab it off the rack. She could also courtesy flush the toilet from anywhere in the bathroom. At Flynn’s place, his toilet had its own freaking room.
It was fun for a weekend. Living the high life. With Flynn.
She dug through her dirty laundry basket. Her khaki slacks were rumpled, but they’d smooth out in this humidity. She gave them a sniff.
Meh, good enough. Only she and Charlie had to suffer through them for an hour. And maybe they’d repel his dad.
She sped to the Woods’ place and parked in her usual spot. Rushing to the door, she hummed to herself. A tendril of anxiety crept through the warm sun and cool breeze, unsettling the euphoria from her weekend.
She knocked on the door.
And waited.
And waited. Any longer and she’d be officially late. Not good in Mrs. Woods’s eyes, who wouldn’t listen to the “no one answered the door for me” excuse.
Highest Bidder (Fanboys Book 2) Page 12