Flynn's Kiss (Disarmed & Dangerous)

by Diane Saxon

  It wasn’t his wet dream responsible for awakening him. It was hers. This time his breath came out in a rush. He should wake her, move away, stop her from dreaming.

  Her soft whimper made him pause, the gentle roll of her hips bumped his fingers higher to nudge her tiny panties to one side, to touch the satin skin between her thighs, to slip through her honeyed warmth. Her curvaceous body undulated, and indescribable torture filled him. He ground his teeth and toyed with the idea of remaining completely still and letting Liberty have her own wicked dream. Her hardened nipple pressed into his palm, begging for his attention; her ass pushed against his erection, and in a blind panic, he made a snap decision to wake her.

  “Liberty.”

  “Flynn, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” Heavy with desire, her voice rasped out, setting his nerves alight. He gave an experimental contraction of his fingers between her legs, and she groaned, flexed her hips again, her entire body awash with small vibrations.

  “Are you awake?”

  “Yes.” Her breath rushed out in a wild gasp.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Oh God, yes.”

  He ripped his hand from between her legs to shove his boxers out of the way, and before she could change her mind, he positioned her ass in front of his hips, and true to his statement the night before, like a homing device his dick found her already stimulated entrance and he was inside her. His hand once again groped to find her hot wet center, his hips surged against her backside pushing himself high inside her.

  He slipped his fingers between her slick folds and gave a long slow slide through her moistness to find the treasure of her clitoris. The small vibrations of her inner walls grew as her body tautened, every muscle straining as he pumped inside her hard and fast, their bodies held tight together, constricted by the sleeping bag. Strong tremors flowed through the palm of his hand from the well of her chest, up her throat, and emerged as a low keening wail as she shuddered and broke in his arms, and with one last surge, he emptied himself inside her, held deep, and clung tight.

  He buried his face in the soft curve of her neck to allow the thick lethargic drowsiness to envelope him. His eyes closed, his body relaxed, and the comfortable sensation of floating returned. Replete and content, he allowed himself to drift, hover on the edge of oblivion, and then topple over.

  “Flynn.”

  Sharp torment slashed unexpectedly across the tender flesh along his scar, his entire body spasmed, desperate panic shot through his system, and a frantic need to escape consumed him. He grabbed the person in front of him, his muscles hurtling to attention as he strained to throw her away from him.

  “Flynn, no. Stop. It’s me. I’m sorry.”

  “What the fuck are you doing touching me?”

  She’d obviously turned around in his arms while he’d been unconscious, secure in his dark cocoon.

  Her breath came in short, frightened gasps.

  “I didn’t know you were asleep.”

  Heat shot from his toes and burned its way straight through his body into his head to expand and swell enough to explode. Claustrophobic, he pulled at the sleeping bag zipper. Panic stricken, his fingers tore at it, fumbled until he wrenched it apart with a rending tear, and lunged out of the bag, flopped onto the cold, hard ground. Still trapped within the bright white confines of his cell, blood coated his teeth, slicked over his thickened tongue, the nightmare never ending.

  “Don’t ever fucking touch my face again.”

  In the dark, her sweet breath stuttered to a halt and smacked his brain back into reality.

  Regret coursed through him, making him weak, and he rolled to his knees to peer through the darkness at her glinting eyes.

  “I’m sorry…” he stumbled over his words but couldn’t fathom what to say to make it right again. “Liberty. I’m sorry. You caught my face with your nail. I was asleep. I overreacted.”

  Her voice, when it eventually emerged from the darkness, was small and quivering, sending a wave of remorseful agony to pulse through him.

  “I apologize. I didn’t mean to scratch you. I was only trying to touch you in the dark. I had no idea you were already asleep.”

  They waited in silence—a heartbeat—then two.

  “Come back to bed.” she whispered.

  He could just make out the shimmer of tears in the soft moonlight as they tracked down her cheeks, but his body was so fired with adrenaline and the residue of fear, he wasn’t sure if he could give her the gentle comfort she deserved.

  “I—umm. I think I’ll just have a few minutes to…you know.”

  He reached out, groped around in the dimness to locate his clothes, pulled them toward him, stood up, and cleared his throat, but his voice when it came was still a gruff echo of his anger.

  “I won’t be long. You go to sleep.”

  •●•

  Pale blue tinged with licks of ethereal pink painted the eastern horizon before Flynn gathered himself enough to move. Stiffened limbs crackled and muscles groaned when he stood and stretched himself out after the long night of sitting motionless.

  When he’d returned during the night, fully dressed, he’d built up the fire again, retrieved the spare sleeping bag, wrapped it around himself, and stared into nothingness, his brain a dull mess of confusion.

  He’d not actually slept with anyone for years, never accepting the comfort and intimacy of a relationship, but he’d loved sleeping with Liberty in his arms. Despite her restrictions on their lovemaking, he’d never slept so well. He loved the feel of her small, curvy body pressed against his, the inviting scent of her early morning warmth. And he would have been able to continue with the enforced celibacy but for her plea in the night causing a raging torrent of desire—already ignited with her closeness—to explode into an inferno.

  He placed a few more logs on the fire, hung a can of water over it to boil, and hovered at the edge of the camp, his gaze fixed on Liberty’s huddled figure burrowed deep inside her sleeping bag. The chill of the early morning still soaked through to his bones, unaided by the ice in his soul. He rasped his hand over his whiskered face, smoothed his fingers over his lips, and then traced the thin delicate scar toward his ear, finding the intersection that took his fingers at a right angle toward his eye and through the edge of his eyebrow.

  He glanced down once more at Liberty’s sleeping figure, touched his fingertip to the small scratch she had accidently inflicted, presumably with a jagged nail, and sighed, knowing he needed to have a serious conversation with her and not having a clue where to start.

  Apologies—he’d already made them. After the things she told him about her upbringing, he understood her fear of rejection. He’d chosen to ignore it. Instead of leaving the woman alone, as any man of honor would have done under the circumstances and having given his word, he’d been lured by her overwhelming temptation, the lush invitation of her body, her kitten-like mewls.

  As his body started to respond to the erotic memories of the night before, Flynn turned away in disgust and stalked down to the stream, determined to dunk his head in the freezing water until his brain cleared. He had no idea what to say to the woman when she woke. She was probably about to wipe the floor with him.

  He held to his theory.

  He was shit with women.

  •●•

  Liberty blinked open her eyes, relieved he had gone at long last. She’d barely slept a wink, totally aware of Flynn’s every movement, each breath and heavy sigh. She’d waited for him to come back in the night, fully expected him to have slipped inside the sleeping bag and snuggled his cold, naked body up to hers. She’d pretended to be asleep, unwilling to allow him to see how devastated she was. Devastated to have caused him pain. She had felt the contact, the searing pulse of instantaneous reaction as he reared back. Yet she had no idea how bad his injury was. Could only assume from his reaction it was more mental than physical, and the only thing she could have done was apologize, which she had, and accept his rejection,
which she did.

  She scrambled out of the sleeping bag, grabbed her clothes up, and threw them on as quickly as she could while she cast an anxious glance along the stretch of the stream. He’d wandered farther along and stood with his back to her beside a small red-maple. With his head hanging, he looked the picture of desolation. Her heart gave a painful contraction as she convinced herself there was no future in a relationship with two souls already damaged beyond hope, unable to soothe each other’s anxieties, simply because their needs were too similar.

  Mind made up, Liberty made strong black coffee, dumped in several sugars and handed him a mug of it as he returned. Unable to meet his eyes, she turned to roll up the sleeping bag and collect her belongings.

  “I think I have enough samples to be going on with, so I think I’ll return today.”

  She glanced up through grit-filled eyes and caught his quick frown. His clear blue eyes centered on her, making her feel guilty. He gave a quick jerky nod and a tight smile before he glanced around at the campsite.

  “I’ll pack up if you want to go and get yourself ready.”

  “No, it’s okay, I can do it myself.”

  This time his nod was slow and controlled.

  “I know you can, but if you go and get cleaned up, I’ll have it done and we can leave.”

  With the realization he was as desperate as her to get away, she turned on her heel and rushed down to the stream.

  •●•

  He narrowed his eyes and zoomed in on her pert little rump. He still couldn’t take his eyes off it, and now he had the added memory of being pressed firmly against it, her warm softness cushioning him as he’d moved against her, even before she’d invited him further.

  She wasn’t as bouncy today. She seemed almost sapped of energy, and he wondered how much she had slept during the night. He suspected she’d been awake when he’d first come back to the fire, but he thought her breathing had turned light enough for her to have fallen asleep soon after. His chest had given a nasty lurch when he’d first looked into her tear-swollen eyes. All he’d wanted to do was fold her into his arms, but her cool aloofness warned him to stay back.

  He kicked his horse, encouraging it into a slow canter to catch up with Liberty. Just as he approached, her horse slowed to a wiggling walk, lifted his tail, and dropped a pile of shit behind him as though he’d waited for Flynn’s presence in order to show his disrespect. Even the horse had become disillusioned with him.

  Flynn sighed, resisting the urge to grin as he pulled up alongside her. The sound of cheerful jingling almost drove him crazy. He dipped his head and tugged his hat lower as another harsh gust of wind whipped him in the face. Even nature seemed to be having its say. He touched her leg to get her attention and sucked in a harsh breath when she turned to face him, eyes devastated, lips pulled straight.

  “It’s just as well we’re heading back, I think there’s a squall blowing in.” He raised his voice so she could hear him. Her eyes narrowed as another gust caught them, and then shot wide as her white Stetson flew off the back of her head, slapped her horse on its rump, making it skitter sideways, and tumbled off the back.

  Flynn whipped around in his saddle to watch the hat’s progress as it careered away from them, bowling over and over until it hit the pile of horseshit and stumbled to a full stop, wavered for a moment, then tipped over backward and came to rest on its crown.

  “I don’t believe it.”

  Flynn turned his head to stare into Liberty’s shocked face. Her mouth had dropped open, and her eyes were wide with disbelief.

  He couldn’t stop the rumble of laughter welling up through his chest to burst out of his mouth, giving Liberty even more reason to look shocked.

  “Jesus Christ, Liberty. I know your hats are an abomination, but I can’t quite understand why they seem to want to commit suicide.” He rubbed his chest, gave another chuckle as a stronger whip of wind hit them, and his own hat, properly fitted and made, stayed firmly ensconced on his head.

  He glanced back and the hat wavered, threatened to take off again, and then flipped over so it was brim deep in horse shit. Flynn couldn’t contain his rolling laughter any longer, try as he might, until he leaned over the front of his saddle and doubled up trying to wipe his cheeks with the back of his hand as his eyes streamed with tears.

  He rested his head on his horse’s neck, weak with laughter, and peered up at Liberty’s stony face. Another gust of laughter burst from his lungs.

  “Do you know how much it cost me?” She jabbed a finger in the direction of the hat, and he gurgled as the Stetson wobbled again. The only thing keeping it still was the weight of horseshit, and it probably wouldn’t last much longer as the wind gained strength. Unable to contain it, he laughed some more.

  Her pretty mouth tightened and she flicked her head, moving the reins to wheel the horse in the opposite direction.

  “What are you doing?”

  She raised her regal, superior chin and looked down her nose at him, making him snicker all over again.

  “I’m going back for it.”

  “No, Liberty, don’t.” He snorted in through his nose, rasped a desperate breath out. “It’s dead.” He tried to contain his laughter and ended up snorting some more instead. She stared at him as though he were an alien, and spoke through gritted teeth.

  “I want it.”

  He swiped a hand across his lips in an attempt to cover his smile.

  “I’ll get it, if you insist.”

  Her furious glower hit him, and another snigger erupted before he could stop it, but he held up his hand as she made another move to turn. He maneuvered his own horse around and trotted back to the hat, leaned far out of his saddle, and scooped it up. The thick ring of bells jangled in sorrow as they slipped off the crown of the hat and landed deep in shit. He gave them a quick glance and decided to leave them where they lay as he circled around the pile and headed back to Liberty.

  Her large sad eyes and downturned mouth held more power to stop his flow of laughter than any amount of anger she might have shown. It was one thing to face her wrath, another entirely to deal with her distress. He held the white and brown-smudged hat gingerly between forefinger and thumb as he approached, stretching his hand toward her to offer her the shit besmirched Stetson.

  She shook her head.

  With an intense whoosh the wind blew another blast, and Flynn’s precarious hold on the hat failed, allowing it to slap brim first straight into his chest, smearing horse shit up the front of his shirt as he automatically grabbed it and pressed it close.

  “Fuck.”

  The gurgle of laughter coming from the cute little woman on the horse in front of him gave him pause as he pinned her with a killer stare and watched her collapse. She held her stomach as she howled, her stunning eyes crinkled at the corners as they lit up. Her entire face glowed with joy, and her pretty white teeth showed in a wreath of smiles.

  His heart gave a painful lurch and stumbled through a few beats before it seemed able to right itself again, but Flynn found himself smiling in response to her unrestrained hilarity.

  He peered down at his hand holding her hat clutched firmly to his chest and smelled the aroma of horseshit as it wafted beneath his nose.

  “What do you want me to do with it?”

  She giggled, covered her hand with her mouth, and then drew in a long, deep breath.

  “I think we need to take it back and throw it away. It’ll never be the same.”

  “Nope, it won’t.”

  She smiled and his chest warmed, sending a heated flush racing over his skin.

  “You’re really pretty, Liberty.”

  His words were torn away on another gust of wind, and Liberty leaned toward him with a puzzled frown.

  “Pardon?”

  “Pretty. You’re really pretty.”

  The smile dropped from her mouth, but the sweet blush of pleasure he saw cross her face before she dipped her head self-consciously made the warmth burn.


  Her gentle voice came to him on the wind.

  “I hope we can still be friends, Flynn.”

  There was no fucking way he was settling for friendship with Liberty. It fell far short of anything he wanted with her, but the shy flutter of her eyelashes told him it was all he could expect from her right now, and if he wanted a chance, he at least needed to be able to get close to her. In the meanwhile, he needed to think about how he was going to get his own shit fixed.

  •●•

  Carl was ready to take Liberty’s horses as soon as they drew into the stables. The wind was increasing by the minute, setting up a howl loud enough to disturb the horses and make them stamp and whinny in their boxes.

  “Good job you came back now, we’ve had a severe weather warning. I was about to send Sam out in the truck to fetch you when we saw you coming over the horizon. You took your time getting here, you might have come a little quicker.”

  “We were delayed.”

  Flynn glanced at Liberty just as she swept her hair back from her face and retrieved the Stetson from where he’d tied it to the packhorse’s saddle. A small smile flitted over her features and gentled his heart. He was going to find a way.

  “Is that horseshit down your front?” He pulled his attention around to Carl, who appeared to be studying his shirt.

  “Yup.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  He couldn’t stop the grin in response to Liberty’s twitching lips.

  “It was the hat.”

  Carl nodded, slow and wise, as if he understood the reasoning, and when his dark gaze landed on the decimated hat, his leathery cheeks crinkled in wide swathes, and he tucked his tongue in his cheek.

  “Dear Lord, Miss Liberty. What did the boy do to destroy your fine hat?”