So it was Mum who negotiated my release, which sounds far more dramatic than it was. Even if I did feel like a hostage, I wasn’t really. I was in there for my own good. I did assault a man after all. It made perfect sense to me at the time, too, but of course that’s unacceptable behavior.
I just said yes to everything when they ran the plan past me. I even signed something to say Mum was going to take over my care, along with Dr Sherrington. When I walked out of the ward and then into the hospital car park I felt instant relief. That all faded away when I got into my car and pulled out following Mum’s on the way from my house to hers. The further north I got, the more I realized what I had agreed to, but by then it was too late.
Flynn hearing my stomach rumbling then bumping into me takes me out of my thoughts, and I’m relieved when we stop for lunch. I need the break. I’m not as unfit as I once was, but I know I’m not as fit as Flynn by a long stretch.
While Flynn sets up the picnic I ring Mum and quickly check in with her. Well, I nod my head and mumble something vaguely affirmative as she asks me a million questions. Finally she shuts up, and I put the switched off phone back in my pocket.
I pick up a cheese and pickle sandwich and nibble at a corner. I’m hungry, or at least I was, but full body contact with Flynn has awakened another appetite of mine. He seems really clumsy today, tripping over things and then bumping into me. I acted pissed off, but that was mostly because I was so taken back at the feel of his hard edges pressing against my back and arse. I’d like to feel more of that, naked flesh on naked flesh, please.
However I’m sure it’s nothing but a passing fantasy. Flynn is completely out of my league. He’s stable and secure and as happy as a pig in muck even though he lives such an unconventional life. Whereas I’m a crazy woman, mentally unstable with a mother who swings from overfeeding me to undervaluing me in 0.4 seconds. I’ve got way too many issues. Flynn won’t want to get involved with me.
“What you thinking?” Flynn’s deep voice breaks through my ponderings.
“Oh, this and that,” I smile weakly, “enjoying the picnic.”
“Too right,” he exclaims. “This is the best grub I’ve had in ages. No offence to the tin of soup we shared last night, of course.”
I laugh and shake my head. “No offence taken, my mum’s good cooking genes didn’t pass down to me at all. Are you a good cook?”
“When I’ve got the equipment I can whip something up.” Flynn nods. “Sometimes it’s even edible.”
“Well that’s an improvement on my skills.” I bend forward and pick up a sausage roll.
There’s a definite awkwardness to our interactions today. I can only assume it’s because of the kisses. Well, not the kisses themselves—they were bloody hot—but the complications arising from them. I should have kept my lips to myself. Flynn could be a really good friend, and I shouldn’t let my libido into it.
“Can I let you into a secret?” I ask, laying down the crumbly pastry.
“If you want to,” he replies.
I shuffle over on my bum so I’m closer to him. It isn’t really necessary as I can’t even see any interested sheep in the area, let alone any people, but if you’re telling a secret it has to be whispered. I lean into him, trying not to notice his enticing manly musk or the line of his chin which just begs to be kissed. “I’m spoilt.”
He turns his head and looks at me quizzically. His lips are so close. I could kiss him so easily, but I resist.
“I am. Well, that’s what my mum thinks. It’s part of why we get on so badly. She thinks my modern life in the big city has ruined me.”
“No, surely not,” Flynn gasps.
“It’s true. I mean, I’m not so convinced she thought I was much good before I headed into the Big Smoke … but you don’t want to hear all my woes.”
“Actually, I do. If you want to tell them to me.”
I could lose myself in Flynn’s gaze. It’s so warm and inviting. “Okay, so I’ll give you the edited version. Dad left Mum because of me. He hung around long enough to see me born, but two days later he fucked off, never to be seen again. I don’t think Mum’s ever forgiven me for it.”
“But wait, it wasn’t your fault he left. You were a baby for crying out loud.”
“I know, I know. I pay a very expensive therapist to keep reminding me of exactly that fact, and Dr. Sherrington keeps harking on about it, too. But I feel like it’s my fault. Mum’s always being weird with me. Overprotective and under-impressed. I knew from being in Reception class that my mum wasn’t like others. She wouldn’t leave me on my first day in school. They had to get the caretaker to physically remove her. But then when I gave her the pasta picture I’d made on that first day, she crumpled it up and threw it in the bin right there at the school gate.”
I pull in a deep breath and flutter my eyelashes. I can feel tears coming, and I don’t want to cry in front of him again. I just want to give him something of me, so he can understand me more and maybe then we can get back to being friends.
“Oh, Carrie, that’s awful.”
“Well, no, not really. I mean, she never hit me; she always fed me. I was always well dressed and whatnot. There are kids out there who had a much rougher ride than me. But it might explain why I have such a weird relationship with Mum.”
“Sure.” Flynn nods. “I understand.”
“Sometimes I think I do, but then she says something and I fly off the handle. One of these days I’ll learn to be a grown-up about it.”
“It’s difficult to act maturely when the issue at hand really fucking hurts.” The depth of emotion in his voice takes me by surprise, and he clearly speaks from experience. I look up and am startled by how close he is to me. Who moved? I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me.
“Sometimes you just forget about the formalities and go with your gut,” he continues. “It’s such a visceral reaction, it’s like the brain doesn’t get involved at all.”
My heart is racing, my lips dry. Blood rushes around my body, making my extremities tingle. A gentle cool breeze tickles the back of my neck, but I can’t think. My pussy aches, my skin feels tight, and all I can hear is his breathing. I’m sure the river is tinkling over rocks, that birds are tweeting, and the wind is rustling through the leaves, but I’ve tuned all that out.
He cups my face with his big, rough hand and wipes at my cheek. The tears that had been threatening to fall had dripped down without me really paying much attention. I smile, feel it pulling against the warm cup of his hand. Then his lips are on mine, and I feel complete. My body zings with ecstasy. Shifting slightly, I press my chest to his, grip his arm to steady me. His fingers trail down from my cheek to my neck, the grip possessive but gentle.
I don’t care where I am, and I certainly don’t think about what this snog means for our friendship. Suddenly I couldn’t give a shit about friendship. I want him—no, I need him. My body craves his. Tracing my fingers down his arm I appreciate the muscle and the heft of him. He might be a wild man, but he hasn’t gone to seed. This guy is taut with muscle and might, and if I were a character in a historical romance I’d be swooning into his embrace just so he could catch me to put that strength into action.
Flynn wraps his other arm around my waist, and I’m enveloped in him. He smells of the outdoors, cut with a hint of citrus and spice from his wash and shave last night. Already there’s the slight sting of stubble against my cheek and chin as we kiss, his beard working to reassert itself, the pull of his hormones unstoppable by steel.
I don’t think I’ve breathed for hours, I’m just drinking him in. My grip on his arm slackens and slips down to his sides like silk sheets against skin. I clutch at him then sneak my hands up inside the confines of his t-shirt as his tongue presses urgently between my lips.
His skin is hot and taut, his stomach flat, his abs hard and unyielding. He flinches as I skim my hand over his hip and encounter a rough, raised line of a scar. I move over it quickly, unwilling to cause him pain or u
pset. I don’t know much about his life as a soldier, but I suppose the mark is something he picked up back then. He doesn’t want to think about his past, and I don’t want to push him, even though it’s obvious, even to me, that he’s running away from something. Something painful, no doubt, that he really needs to get to grips with to move on with his life. Fuck, I’m starting to sound like damn Dr. Sherrington.
I’m distracted from my inner ruminations by him stroking my side. He climbs higher, his thumb brushing over the bottom curve of my breast, and my nipple tightens almost painfully in reaction. Just the skim of a finger over t-shirt and bra amps up my arousal to the next level. What the fuck would happen if he got me naked? He growls and moves his thumb higher. He cups my breast with his whole hand, his thumb grazing over my nipple, and all thought flees my mind. I love the rumble of arousal that vibrates between our mouths. His moan is deep and sonorous, highlighted by my breathier, higher-pitched gasps. It’s a symphony of lust.
I want to feel more of him. I need to explore every inch of him. Skimming my hands over his shoulder blades and down to the very base of his back is a good start, but I want to know him even more intimately. I head ‘round the front of his body again, taking care to avoid his scar, and before I can think or take breath I slip my hand down into the waistband of his casual trousers.
Flynn stiffens. I pause for a split second, but then lust reasserts itself and I clasp at the warm, hardened flesh that I encounter. I’m a little surprised he’s not wearing underwear—lord, did I shrink those, too?—but it is a pleasant surprise. He is long and hard, showing undeniable proof that he is as turned on by this situation as I am. I slowly explore his cock with my fingertips, dipping down onto the tightened flesh of his balls before rising back up to the soft, stretched flesh of his dick.
I’m erotically multitasking, kissing him and stroking his cock at the same time. His frozen state lasts only a moment, and then he lifts up my top and worms his hand into the cup of my bra to stroke my flesh. He pinches my nipple, and I whisper “Yes,” against his lips. He pinches harder, and I’m moments away from coming, as ridiculous as that sounds. My nipples aren’t the most sensitive parts of my body, but right now they feel like they’re hotwired directly to my pussy.
I want to fuck him. I want to feel him inside me. The words of invitation hover on my lips when I hear a shrill bark. We both stop, lips locked, and listen. All I can hear at first is our panting breaths, but then the yip of a little dog clearly sounds on the air. I snatch my hand from his pants, and Flynn pulls back from me. Just as a wet doggy nose hits an exposed patch of flesh on my back.
I yelp then turn to see the little Jack Russell looking at me with a mischievous glint in its beady eye. Cock-blocked by a bloody dog. Nice. The dog leaves me alone and pounces on the cocktail sausages.
“Skipper, behave!” A shrill voice yells, drawing my gaze up to meet the white-haired woman in chintz blouse, navy skirt and heavy duty sandals walking towards us. “Skipper, get out of it! Skipper, stop!”
The dog doesn’t even flutter an eyelash, just continues eating.
“I’m so sorry.” The lady gasps as she bends down to pull on the recalcitrant dog’s collar. “He’s such a naughty little thing.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” I smile. “He’s only doing what comes naturally.”
Skipper is clipped onto a lead, but his little tail still wags. Nothing’s going to get him down, especially now he’s got a belly full of sausage.
“I’ll leave you two in peace to enjoy your picnic now.” She smiles. “It’s a lovely day for it.”
“Thanks,” Flynn finds his voice and chips in. “Enjoy your walk.”
She waves and drags the little dog behind her.
“He’s still eyeing up our picnic,” Flynn laughs.
“Either that or smirking over breaking up our sexy interlude, little bugger,” I grumble.
Flynn looks down at his hands. “Maybe that’s for the best.” He sighs.
“What do you mean? Weren’t you enjoying it?” My heart thuds to the pit of my stomach, or least it feels like it. From the heights of sexual arousal to the depths of rejection in just a few minutes.
“No, no, I enjoyed it. You know I did. Fuck.” He runs his fingers through his hair and shakes his head ever so slightly. “But maybe that will only complicate things, you know?”
“Complicate things?” I laugh, genuinely amused. Then my mood changes, and anger takes over. “Do you think things could get much more complicated than they already are? My life is all fucking complication wrapped up in a pretty bow of confusion. I thought you were different, actually, Flynn. I thought you wouldn’t give me the bloody runaround. I thought you were a straight up kind of guy.”
“I am, Carrie, I’m trying to be honest with you.”
“Yeah, sounds like it. One minute you’re happily letting me fondle your penis and the next you’re telling me to fuck off!” I realize I’m being somewhat unreasonable, but I’ve never let that get in the way of a damn good storm out before.
“No, Carrie, I didn’t mean it like that. I just—Carrie, don’t go!”
I’m on my feet and striding away. I won’t look back, won’t listen to him.
“Look, I want us to be friends! Not because I didn’t enjoy the sexy stuff we did, but I don’t have any friends, and I like you, I really like you. Carrie, turn around, please, let me explain.”
Still stomping off, I’m trying really hard to not listen to Flynn. He’s just another flighty sod who used me for his entertainment. Well, I’m not going to let anyone else fuck me up the way my mother has. I need stability right now. The sheer fact I’m marching off in the direction of God knows where with no guide, no sun hat, and no bloody clue where I am or how to get back home proves this.
I dodge around a tree and trip over an uneven rock. I growl and change direction. The ground is flatter now and easier to stomp along. It’s a lovely day for a walk, sunny and warm, but I’m not taking in the finer details of what’s around me. I’m walking away from yet another confrontation.
Guilt rumbles in the base of my stomach. I’ve done it again, acted like a selfish kid instead of an adult. Flynn didn’t get chance to actually tell me what he meant. I assumed the worst and ran with it. Least this time I’ve got shoes on.
I really should turn around and go back. There’s nothing stopping me apart from my foolishly stubborn pride.
Dr. Sherrington would call this a learning experience. He’d expect me to stop, think, and make a considered decision. Well, that’s all well and good, but can I really go back with my tail between my legs and beg forgiveness? I didn’t get to be a successful businesswoman by backtracking all the time.
I slow down, the fire of my anger dissipating. Self-doubt creeps in and takes control, and it’s a bitch.
There’s nothing else for it. I’ll have to go back, if I can work out which way that is. It should be simple, but I didn’t storm off down a path or alongside the river, I just walked and now I’m in the middle of who knows where and I’m not sure if I’ve been walking in a straight line either. I think I’m lost. Oops.
“Flynn,” I yell, swallowing my pride. “Flynn!”
I might not be sure I like the man very much at the moment, but I’m very sure I’m not going to get home without the wild man by my side.
Chapter Seven
As Carrie flounces away, my heart sinks into my boots. Christ, me and my big mouth. Or my conscience. Probably both. I couldn’t have just waited for the woman and her dog to bugger off and start snogging Carrie’s face off again, could I? No, I had to go and let my brain get in the way of my cock. Normally, folk say it’s doing things the other way ‘round that causes trouble. Either way, I’ve managed to piss Carrie off and sent her scurrying into the countryside.
She won’t come to any harm. We’re in a river valley so the only directions she can go are either way on the path, or up the very steep side of the valley to the top. I’m pretty sure she won’t go too
far up the slope—only the sheep are insane enough to attempt that.
Sighing, I gather up all the picnic paraphernalia as fast as I can and stuff it into the backpack, then shoulder it. After a last check to make sure we haven’t left anything behind—being a litterbug at this stage would, I feel, be ironic—I head in the direction Carrie went. It’s not long before I find her. Or hear her, anyway. She’s calling for me. Shit.
Picking up speed, I move toward the sound of her voice. “Stay where you are, Carrie,” I shout back. “I’m coming.”
“Okay.” She sounds feeble now, and as sorry as this makes me for starting our little disagreement, I can’t help feeling a certain amount of relief that the fire seems to have left her. Maybe, just maybe, when I reach her, she won’t rip my head off and shove it up my backside.
“Hey,” I say gently, spotting her. She’s perched on a huge rock beneath the shade of a tree, a wild, panicked look about her. “I’m here, sweetheart. It’s all right.” I sit carefully next to her, still half-expecting a punch in the arm or a slap in the face. Fortunately, I get neither. Instead I’m treated to a bashful smile.
“Sorry, Flynn,” she says, inching closer to me. “I overreacted then, I know I did. It’s just I’m so used to being in control of my life that when something doesn’t go my way, I don’t handle it well. Like I said earlier, I’m spoilt. If you don’t fancy me, I can’t make you. Nor would I want to. But I still hope you can find it in yourself to ignore my outburst there and we can stay friends.”
I sigh again, run a hand through my hair. Christ, how to explain this without making things a hundred times worse? Who would have thought the arrival of a hot, loaded chick would make my life so bloody complicated?
The Billionaire and the Wild Man Page 6