Now I find myself debating the best way to have Flynn Caldwell in my life, with the least amount of risk to myself. But most importantly, I also have to figure out how to do this without hurting Flynn. Because even though I’m afraid of getting hurt myself, it’s becoming more important to me that he remain unscathed.
“We’re back,” Flynn yells and I bring his gift out with me.
“I ordered the Chinese. It should be here in about half an hour.”
Flynn looks pointedly at the present in my hand. “What’s that?”
“It’s your gift,” I tell him, setting it on the coffee table. Capone nudges it and gives it a sniff. “Don’t even think about it, Capone,” I give him a warning. He doesn’t even look abashed and nudges it again, but then he loses interest.
“Can I open it now?” Flynn asks, his eyes lit up like a five-year-old.
“No. We have to decorate first, then eat, and then presents.”
“Why does it have to be in that order?” he sulks.
“Because... I just decided to make that rule. Besides... the anticipation is what makes it great, right?”
Flynn’s childish and goofy grin melts away and a smirk replaces it. “Anticipation can also kill you, too.”
I snort over that comment, because I know exactly what he’s talking about.
We’re able to decorate the apartment by the time the food arrives. It wasn’t like it was a massive undertaking though. We basically bought some cheerful, colored lights and hung them around the living room windows. He strung tinsel across the mantle of the fireplace, which has been broken the entire time Flynn has lived here. And we lit some Cinnamon-Apple candles, turning the lights down low so the room just glowed from the lights and wavering flames.
Flynn and I ate our Chinese food on the floor, both using the chopsticks. “This reminds me of A Christmas Story,” he says.
I start laughing and point my sticks at him. “It does! Where at the end they eat Christmas dinner at a Chinese restaurant.”
“Yup. That’s a great movie. We should see if it’s on TV and watch it tonight.”
“That would be fun,” I agree, taking my last scoop of rice. I’m stuffed and can’t hold anymore, even though I only ate about half of it.
Pushing my container away, I watch Flynn polish his food all the way off, even grabbing my container and eating some of mine. When he’s finished, he lies back on the floor and groans. “I’m dying. That was way too much food.”
“It’s not like someone forced you to eat all that.”
“I know, I know. I got carried away.”
With Flynn lying on his back, the hem of his shirt inches up and I see a small strip of skin above his jeans. It glows golden in the flickering lights and I have a hard time pulling my eyes away from the thin patch of dark hair that is disappearing under the waistband. My eyes do finally move and travel upward. He’s wearing a V-neck, black sweater and I can still see the two burns marks peeking out. They’ve healed well, with only a slight reddening of the skin remaining, and he swears they don’t hurt anymore. Flynn was only out of work for a week, although he had to spend another week on light duty. Just about the time he got released to full duty, his vacation started, so I think he’s getting a little restless. Flynn is definitely not the type that likes to sit around and do nothing.
“Do you want to open presents?” I ask.
Flynn raises his head from the floor and cracks one eye open at me. “Does Chinese food make you want to barf if you eat too much?”
“I don’t know, does it?”
Sitting up with a groan, Flynn says, “Hell yeah, it does, but I’ll get over it. So let’s get this party going.”
Standing up, I walk into the kitchen. “I got a surprise. Stay there.”
When I return, I’m holding a chilled bottle of champagne and two flutes. Flynn looks at me with interest.
“What you got there?”
Holding my implements up, I say, “I figure we could celebrate Christmas and also do a toast to Nix and Emily.”
Flynn hops up from the ground and takes the bottle from me. He deftly removes the foil and wire cage from the cork and, holding it to the side and angled away from me, he easily pops it open. I hold the flutes out and he pours us each a glass before setting the bottle on the coffee table.
Holding my glass up, I say, “Merry Christmas, Flynn. I can never thank you for all you’ve done for me. And here’s wishing Nix and Emily a beautiful Christmas wedding.”
Flynn taps his flute against mine and we both raise our glasses, staring at each other while we sip. Even after our glasses lower, I still can’t tear my eyes from his and I love how the hazel color gleams under the Christmas lights, causing sparkles to appear.
Flynn finally breaks away and sets his glass down. He smacks his palms together and then briskly rubs them back and forth. “I want presents. Now. Now. Now.”
Laughing, I set my glass down and then pick up my present from the coffee table. We both sit down on the couch, side by side, with only an inch of space between us. I hand the gift over with a qualification. “It’s not much. I hope you don’t think it’s too lame.”
Flynn shakes the small box near his ear, trying to harbor a guess as to what it holds. He then sets it in his lap and tears into the paper, revealing a brown box underneath that is taped shut. He picks at the edges of the tape, and rips it back. Peeling the flaps away, he reaches inside and pulls his gift out. It’s wrapped in tissue paper, which he easily removes, and then he holds it up before him.
It’s a brown leather journal and has embossed on the front, “The Story of Me”. Flynn reaches over to his right and flips on the table lamp so he can see it better. He shoots a curious glance at me but I don’t say anything.
I watch as he opens the cover and reads the words out loud I had written just this morning.
Flynn,
You saved my life and you are my hero. You offered me friendship with no judgment, and kindness when I needed it most. You’ve shown me that it is okay to trust, and I want to always continue to develop our bond.
For a while, I divided my life into pre- and post-Flynn, because my life seemed so much better after meeting you. But then I realized, my entire life is what makes me... well, me, and thus I need to celebrate it all.
I want to share all of it with you.
So, I’ve written furiously the last two weeks, and I’m giving you The Story of Me, so that you can know me better than anyone on this earth.
Love,
Rowan
With a smile on his face, Flynn takes his fingertip and strokes it gently over my name.
I lean in closer to him and turn to the first page of the book. It reads, What is your favorite childhood memory?
“See... it’s a journal that asks probing questions about your life. You just fill in the answers. I tried to answer everything as honestly as I could, even though some of them were lame.”
Flynn is quiet as he reads my answer. It wasn’t the coolest of memories, but it was actually when my mom let me play dress up with her. I must have been about five or so, and she let me wear her heels, she styled my hair, and she let me put on makeup. It was a great memory, because it wasn’t too long after that she started to lose interest in me.
When Flynn finishes reading, he doesn’t say a word but flips through a few pages until he finds one that catches his eye. I peer closer and it asks, Describe your high school years.
Flynn starts reading, lost in my words. I just watch him... silently, as he reads about all of the terrible things I did to get my parents’ attention. I told him some of it before, but I didn’t hold back now on all the ways in which I was an awful child.
When he finishes reading, he turns the book face down on his lap to save his place and turns to look at me. “This is, without a doubt, the best present anyone has ever given me.” He picks up my hand and brings it to his mouth, placing a tender kiss on my knuckles. My heart melts into a soft puddle and I actually sigh.
Flynn starts to pick up the book to read again, but I grab it from him. “Uh-uh, buddy. I get a present, too.”
He looks at me and cocks an eyebrow, giving me a devilish grin. “You do?”
“Damn tootin’ I do. Now get it. Pronto.” I stand up from the couch and grab his hand, pulling him along. “Shoo. Go get my present.”
Chuckling, Flynn walks down the hall to his bedroom. Within just a minute, he’s back, carrying a huge box. He must have had it hidden in his closet. He sits it down on the living room floor with a thud. It’s big enough that the top of it comes to the middle of my thigh. I stare at it, wondering what in the hell he got me.
He sweeps his hand toward the box and says, “Dig in.”
I look at him for just a split second and then I dive for the box. I rip the paper in a frenzy and make short work of the tape holding it closed. When I open it, I’m met with thousands of Styrofoam peanuts completely hiding its treasure.
I thrust my hands into the billowy mess and start rooting around. Peanuts go flying everywhere, and Capone immediate starts eating them.
“Flynn... get him away from those.”
I keep digging in the box while Flynn is repetitively saying, “No, Capone. No!”
When I get near the bottom, my entire upper body is practically hanging in the box. My fingers brush against something hard and I latch on, hauling it out.
I stare in astonishment at the... cinder block I’m holding in my hand.
My gaze moves to Flynn, and I must have the most confused look on my face because he takes the brick from me with a laugh. “That was just to weigh it down. Keep digging.”
Giving a frustrated grunt, I dive back in and start throwing out armfuls of peanuts. “You’re cleaning this mess up, Flynn... just so you know.”
He chuckles and I hear him say, “Gladly. It’s so worth it to be able to stare at your ass while you’re bent over that box.”
“Perv,” I mutter but I smile.
After a few more moments, my fingers brush against something and I pull on it. Standing up, I’m holding an envelope. Just a plain, white envelope with nothing on it. I sneak a brief look at Flynn and he’s watching me intently. I slip my finger under the edge of the flap and tear it open. I pull out a piece of folded paper and open it carefully.
It appears to have several handwritten messages on the inside and one message that appears to be taped to the paper.
I look at Flynn one more time. He actually sits down on the couch and props an ankle on his knee, draping his arm across the back. He watches me like a hawk and I have a feeling he’s trying to gauge my reaction.
I start reading. The first note says...
Rowan,
Awaiting for you tomorrow at JFK is a round-trip ticket in the name of Anne Marie Cleeden to St. John. You only need your driver’s license and your birth certificate to fly to the US Virgin Islands, both of which you have. The ticket has already been paid for and it cannot be refunded. If you choose not to use it to come to the wedding, you can use it to fly anywhere else for up to one year, so it is yours to do with what you wish. You also have a room booked for you in St. John that is paid for as well. And before you get mad at me, please know that I did not buy this for you myself. I had a little help. Read on.
Love,
Flynn
My heart starts beating madly and I’m pissed, but I’m also incredibly humbled by this gesture. I read the messages and they are from all the people who chipped in to buy the ticket and pay for my room.
Nix writes that if I don’t come, he will be forced to fire me so he had no choice but to chip in. That actually makes me laugh out loud. Emily writes that she would be devastated not to have me there, which I think is a little over the top, but then she presses her point and tells me the wedding photos will be ruined as there will be too many male guests in the photos. I can’t help but snort because that is brilliantly manipulative.
Nora writes the most, telling me how much she wants me to be there, not only for Nix and Em, but also for Flynn, so he won’t be odd-man out. She tells me how much she adores me and she knows that I won’t let her down. And oh, shit, does that put the pressure on. Nick just wrote a brief, “Please come. We’d love to have you.”
And at the bottom, I even notice there is a printout of a text message from Renner that has been taped there. It says, “We haven’t met but I’m dying to do so, and what better way than to hook up in the tropics. Please come and I’ll tell you lots of juicy secrets about Flynn”. That one also makes me laugh.
I fold the letter back up and return it to the envelope. Walking up to Flynn, I look down at him. “I’m mad at you.”
“Why me? I didn’t pay for it by myself.”
“Yeah, but you orchestrated it.”
He gives me a sly grin. “Got me. Please say you’ll come.”
Holding my hand out to him, he takes it and I tug so he’ll stand up. I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck. Putting my nose into his chest, I breathe in, and then I squeeze him in a tight hug.
Flynn squeezes me back and rests his chin on my head.
“Yes, I’ll come with you... you big bully.”
Pulling back, Flynn brings his hand up and caresses my cheek. “Thank you.”
Before I can say anything, Flynn leans down and gives me a soft kiss on my lips. My mouth willingly opens and I press back, sliding my tongue in briefly. I can feel Flynn jerk with surprise and he pulls back, his eyes searching mine.
“I’m ready, Flynn. I want more.”
His eyes flash hot and his lips turn up sensually. He takes a deep breath and says, “I can’t believe I’m getting ready to say this, but maybe we shouldn’t. Maybe we should take our time.”
Yeah, that’s not going to work for me. I’ve waffled on this issue for far too long, and caused Flynn untold grief and frustration over my indecision. He’s not going to wait a minute more, and neither am I.
Reaching my hand out, I press my palm to the front of his jeans, feeling him grow amazingly hard beneath me. I squeeze him gently and he sucks his breath in harshly, growing harder yet beneath my hand.
“We’re not waiting,” I tell him.
24
She doesn’t want to wait and I release my breath in a rush.
Her touch is everything I thought it would be.
And so much more.
It’s soft but confident, and I bet she could make me come just stroking me through my jeans. But I’m not about to let that happen.
I reach down and grab her hand, pushing it behind her back and pinning it there. With just a tug, I pull her forward so her body is pressed into me. Both of our free hands hang loose by our sides and we just stare at each other. I take in her gray eyes, which are bathed in the soft glow of colored lights and looking at me with that openness that I’ve come to appreciate about Rowan. I let my eyes travel, taking in her cheekbones... the slope of her nose... how her bottom lip is just slightly fuller than her top. I roam my eyes all over her face, memorizing it so when I close my eyes to sleep, I can appreciate the details.
Leaning down, I brush my lips lightly back and forth against hers. She sighs into me... a sound that is so peaceful... so content, that I’m all of a sudden nervous over the power I may hold.
I hold Rowan’s body in my hands, but more importantly, I hold her heart. She’s guarded it fiercely and now she’s opened the door to it and invited me in. The responsibility is huge and while I have no clue what the future holds for us, I know I’ll never intentionally hurt her. Not the way her parents did.
I push these thoughts aside because I don’t want to talk myself out of sinking into Rowan tonight. I know that may be selfish of me, but Rowan gave me the go ahead and I’m not stopping unless she tells me to.
Moving my lips, I feather them over her temple, down her cheek. I softly graze over her ear, and then move down her neck. Soft, light, warm kisses. Mostly just my lips, sometimes a little lick of tongue. Her skin is so
soft, I could run my lips across it for hours and never tire.
With every touch she shivers, or squirms, or flexes her hips into mine.
She’s growing restless from my lazy touches and brings her hand up to wrap around my neck. She tries to urge me on, but I’m not having any of it. She’s made me wait, for what seems like an eternity, and for all I know she could spook and run tomorrow. But for tonight... she’s mine and this will be done on my timetable.
When I whisper my lips back over her mouth, I gently run my tongue along her bottom lip before moving toward her jaw. Rowan grips me by the hair and demands, “Kiss me, Flynn.”
“I am,” I tell her as I nibble along her skin.
“No,” she says with a moan laced in frustration. “Not like that.”
“Oh... you mean like this?” I move back to her neck, and just slide my lips along its silky slope. She shivers but shakes her head.
“Then how?” I ask.
“My mouth... hard... please.”
Releasing Rowan’s wrist, I move my hands up to hold her face. Her eyes are wide... luminescent. They are pleading with me to make her mine, in every carnal way I know how. It tests my resolve to take this slow because the way she’s looking at me now, I could have this over and done within a matter of minutes.
Instead, I reward her with what she asks. I lean down and seize her mouth, taking it in a brutal storm of lust. My tongue plunges... masters, and I feel like a fucking caveman that brought home the biggest rump of dinosaur roast when I feel Rowan tremble and practically sag against me.
Wrapping a hand around her waist, I pull her tighter into me, pushing my thickness into her belly. My other hand snakes under her shirt and I trail my fingers up her ribs and over the bottom slope of her breast. It is one of the times I’m grateful my girl doesn’t wear a bra and her skin feels like fire when my entire palm covers her, causing Rowan to moan out and push herself harder into my hand.
I keep molesting her mouth while I gently squeeze her breast, teasing her every so often with a flick of my thumb over her nipple. Each time I do it, her breath catches and her hips move, and it gives me a heady feeling of power that I can control her body this way.
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