“Probably should head to Buxton then. It’s quaint, but it has hotels.”
“Great call.” At the next junction I follow signs for Buxton. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” Flynn coughs. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He’s not fine. His voice cracks and he sounds nasal. I look his way, and he’s pale and sweaty.
“Won’t be long, sweetheart. Just rest, we’ll find a hotel soon.” Reaching past the handbrake, I squeeze his thigh. When he doesn’t respond, I glance his way again. He’s fallen asleep.
Buxton is a cute little town with plenty of grass and many trees and buildings that look like they’ve always been impressive. It doesn’t take me long to find an equally small and impressive looking hotel. It’s clean, chic—I can tell by how much it costs per night—and has a vacant room, so it’s perfect for our needs. I get Flynn up to our room and help him into bed.
“I’m sorry, Carrie, I’m so useless right now,” he groans.
“Oh, hush, it’s fine. You’ve looked after me, so now it’s my turn to look after you.”
“I don’t like being so … so … weak.”
“I know, I know. But you’re safe, Flynn. Don’t worry.”
He grips my hand and smiles. “I only feel safe with you, Carrie,” he whispers. “I trust you.”
“I know.” I brush the hair off his brow, taking note of the heat and the moisture there, and it’s not from his recent shower. “I trust you, too. Now close your eyes and rest. I’m going to go get a damp cloth for your forehead.”
When I return from the bathroom, he’s asleep again. I wipe his brow with the cool cloth and then lean in to kiss the center of his forehead. I think I more than trust this wild, hairy man, and that scares and thrills me at the same time.
I leave him sleeping and head to the closest shop to buy supplies for him. Medicine, painkillers, fruit, and cough drops. It’s good to be doing something so domestic and everyday for a change. It’s freeing just to buy what I want without worrying if I’m eating up all my allowance. God, I must have been off my rocker to agree to that. Why did I let my mum control me so easily? Maybe I was just sick of being in charge.
The highest decision maker in the company is me, so the buck stops with me. I have no one to share those responsibilities with. It’s true what they say. It really is lonely at the top. I won’t let it get that bad in future. I’ll go on holiday, and I’ll let someone else be in charge for a while before I run myself into the ground again. I can’t let myself go so far that I think giving control back to my mother is a good idea. Something will have to give before I do.
When I get back to our room Flynn’s sat up in the bed.
“Hey.” I smile. “You’re awake again. “
“Yeah, and I need to talk to you.” His expression is serious, and my heart skips a beat.
“Sure, sure. Let me just get you a glass of water, then you can take some of this paracetamol, get your temperature down.”
I walk to the bathroom and run the tap. I pull in deep, long breaths. No one has ever said “I need to talk to you” and it been about something good. I don’t think I can stand being rejected by another person today.
“Okay,” I stride back into the bedroom, “time to take your medicine.”
I expect Flynn to make some joke about being nursed, but he’s holding his face in a serious line and I falter in my stride.
“What is it, Flynn?”
“I’ve got to tell you something, Carrie. I really have to tell you something, but I’m afraid it might hurt you.”
I put down the water and the pills and sit on the end of the bed. “Well, go on, tell me. I’d prefer you get it over with now.”
What a lie. I don’t want him to tell me whatever it is. I want him to shut up and let me look after him. I want him to get healthy, to fall in love with me, to stay with me forever. That’s what I want.
“Okay.” He picks up the paracetamol, throws them into his mouth and chases them down with water. “I need to make everything right again.” He takes another gulp of water. “It’s complicated between us, right?”
I nod. I’m not sure words will come out of my mouth. My throat is so dry, my stomach is bubbling with nerves, and I’m moments away from falling apart.
“I don’t want it to be complicated. I want it to be simple. I want to be able to court you properly.”
I giggle at his use of such an old-fashioned term. I want him to court me, too. I want him to court me real good.
“I’ve been trying to work out a way to make that happen. The first step was to get you away from your super-controlling mother, and we’ve done that.”
“Yep,” I sigh, “completely. She’s disowned me.”
“What?” Flynn’s mouth drops open.
“Yeah, told me if I left I wouldn’t be able to go back.” I can’t hold in the catch in my voice, and seconds later I’m crying again, scalding tears tumbling over my cheeks.
“Oh, sweetheart.” He scoots down the bed and wraps me in his arms. “She’s a fucking idiot. Christ, you’re best off without her.”
I nod against his thick chest. “But,” I sniff, “she’s my mother, Flynn. The one person in my life I’m supposed to be able to rely on.”
“It’s so fucking unfair that you got the one you got, Carrie. You can’t change her, though.”
Flynn strokes my hair lovingly as I sob against him. His skin is hot and his chest is hard, and I want to forget my sadness and just wallow in the perfection of his body. I give in and kiss the center of his chest, just between his pecs. He stills. I continue to kiss, trailing up to his neck, to his stubbled cheeks and to his lips. He responds, pulling me tight to him. I feel protected, loved and turned on. I don’t want this moment to ever end, because I know when it does, Flynn is going to tell me something I really don’t want to hear.
Chapter Eleven
I have no idea how we got from being on the verge of having a serious conversation, to kissing. What I do know is that Carrie’s smart, beautiful, has an absolute bitch for a mother, and is upset. And I, although I’m not exactly at death’s door, am not feeling great, either.
So what harm can taking a little comfort in each other do? An alarm bell rings at the back of my mind, pulling my attention back to the promises I made myself earlier—that I was going to get myself straight before I attempted to win Carrie’s heart—but the sound is abruptly extinguished by my hormones. They’ve been out of action for so long, locked in a cupboard somewhere deep inside in my body, that now they’ve been freed, there’s no stopping them. And, to be quite honest, I just don’t have the strength to fight. Physically, or mentally.
I make a token gesture at decency. Pulling away, I avert my gaze from her swollen lower lip, so plump and tempting, and look into her eyes. “Carrie,” I whisper, cupping her cheek, “are you sure about this? Because once we do it, we can’t take it back. And things are complicated enough, don’t you think?” My heart pounds, hoping like fuck she won’t take my advice and run a mile.
“Yes,” she murmurs, and now my heart skips a beat, cheesy as it sounds, as that word, considering what I just said, doesn’t really answer the multiple questions I asked. “Things are complicated enough. Way too complicated, in fact. But I’ve realized something.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re not the one complicating things for me. In fact, when I’m with you, things are simple. So blindingly simple it’s ridiculous. I want you, Flynn. I want you so badly, it’s driving me crazy. So yeah, if you’re sure about this, then I’m sure. It’s the only thing I’m sure about at the moment!”
I see no point in giving a verbal reply. There’s nothing I can say that will tell her any better than I can show her. So I take a deep breath and pull her to me once more, capturing her mouth with mine, and letting my hands explore her body. It’s hardly the first time we’ve kissed, but it feels different, somehow. Possibly because this time it’s so laden with possibility, with anticipation.
Unless something goes wrong—and honestly, considering our rotten luck, I’m not counting out an earthquake or tornado right now—we’re going to have sex. Very soon. God, I hope I haven’t forgotten how to do it.
Shit. The small part of my brain—and it’s really small—that isn’t chanting “sex, sex, sex!” provides some vital information. Or, more accurately, a question.
“Carrie.”
She sighs as I pull away again, and I can’t say I blame her. I’m annoying myself, too. “Before I completely and utterly lose my mind, I thought I should ask… Do you have any condoms?”
She blushes, and it’s so sweet and sexy that I feel I may come in my pants right there and then. Then she nods. “Yes, I do. I used to be a high-powered businesswoman, remember? I’m always prepared.”
Sending up a silent thank you to any gods that might be looking down on us for the fact that’s one less hurdle for us to jump, I reply, “Oh good, I’m glad. And hey, no past tense with the businesswoman thing. You are a high-powered businesswoman. But, right now, you’re mine. All mine.”
She makes a happy sound and wriggles out of my grasp. “Let me just go and get them, okay?”
“Yes. But hurry back. I don’t think I can wait any longer to get my hands on you.”
She colors again, and my cock leaps. Christ, she’s gorgeous. Stumbling a little in her haste, Carrie crosses the room to where we dumped her stuff and begins rooting around for the protection. Mercifully, she’s obviously remembered exactly where it is, as mere seconds later—although they feel like hours—she returns to me, a triumphant smile on her face and several foil squares clutched in her hand.
“How many? Bloody hell, as if I wasn’t nervous enough! I hope I can meet your expectations. At least I’ve got the excuse of not being well if I’m not up to scratch.”
She doesn’t just blush now, she turns beetroot. “I—I didn’t mean … shit! I’m not expecting … I just grabbed them, okay?”
I laugh, take her free hand and pull her back onto the bed. “Stop waffling, woman, and come here. I was only teasing you … a little. I’ll happily use all those condoms with you, and many more besides. But it’s been a while, and, like I said, I’m not fighting fit. So don’t judge me based on today’s performance, okay?”
With a smile that lights up her whole face and sends more blood rushing to my nether regions, she nods. “Okay. I get it.” A pause, then her grin widens. “Actually, I have an idea.”
I raise an eyebrow in lieu of a verbal response.
“Why don’t you…” She places a hand in the center of my chest and gently pushes me so I’m lying back on the pillows, “just relax, and let me take care of everything? You need looking after, don’t you? So I’m going to do just that.” She reaches over and deposits the foil packets on the bedside table, within easy reach whenever we need them.
“I’m not going to argue with you there, gorgeous.”
She hops off the bed and begins to take off her clothes. There’s no way I’m lying flat on my back and missing out on that, so I prop myself up on my elbows and watch. She hesitates slightly when she notices me looking, but then carries on, more slowly, deliberately. Her shoes and socks are already gone, and now she’s undoing her shirt, carefully releasing each tiny button from its tiny hole.
It’s probably a good job I’m not the one stripping her—I don’t have the delicacy or the patience for that, and would probably grab the sides of the top and rip the buttons open. Carrie may even enjoy that—a little bit of the impatient alpha male behavior—but considering her wage bracket, the ordinary-looking garment probably cost hundreds of pounds, and my heavy-handedness would no doubt come back and bite me in the arse at a later date.
No, far better to simply observe. And enjoy.
Eventually the shirt is discarded on the floor, revealing a pretty cream-colored bra with pink edging. It actually looks a tad on the large side for Carrie—not that I’d ever mention it. She’s probably lost weight since her breakdown, in spite of her overbearing mother trying to stuff food down her throat at every available opportunity.
I shake my head. I absolutely do not need to be thinking about that woman. Especially not at this particular moment in time. Talk about a mood-killer.
Hurriedly shifting my focus back onto the pretty bra, and the succulent-looking breasts nestled inside it, a groan leaves my throat.
Carrie, who’s busy undoing her jeans, snaps her attention back to me, a questioning look on her face.
I smile, lustfully, I hope, and wave a hand, indicating she should continue.
Luckily, she does, and I take in the delicious view as she shimmies the jeans down her legs, where they pool at her ankles. She kicks them off, leaving her in only her underwear. Her knickers don’t match her bra, but I really couldn’t give a shit. I don’t suppose there’s much call for matching lingerie when you’re supposed to be convalescing. Honestly, and I know it’s a big fat cliché, she could be standing in front of me in a black bin bag and I’d still want her. There’s so much more to this woman, and how I feel about her, than just looks, but now’s not the time for all that.
Right now, we both need comfort, and we’re going to take it from each other. What could be more pleasurable than that?
I realize I’m staring at her in complete silence, and probably making her paranoid. Mentally kicking myself, I clear my parched throat and say, “Carrie, you’re beautiful. Perfect.”
She smiles again, and takes a step toward the bed.
“Hey,” I say, “cute as it is, why don’t you get rid of that underwear? I want to see all of you.”
Reaching behind her back, she pings open her bra, but doesn’t let it fall. “I will if you will,” she quips.
No doubt she’s already seen more of me than is usual for two people that haven’t yet slept together, so being bashful is a waste of time. That, and the sooner I get naked, the sooner she runs out of excuses.
Kicking off the bedcovers, I grab the waistband of my boxer shorts and pull them off—no mean feat, considering my cock is tenting the material. Dropping them to the floor, I then glance back at Carrie.
She’s looking at me, and now I know what it must feel like to her when I drink her in. Because that’s precisely what’s she doing to me right now—her gaze is raking across my body, head to toe, lingering a while on all the bits in between, and making me feel like some kind of erotic gift. A gift she’d really like to unwrap. My scars clearly don’t bother her in the least.
“Hey,” I say, then clear my throat again as my voice has gone all husky. “Carrie. Your turn.”
“Huh?” A flash of surprise appears in her eyes, then is gone again. “Oh yeah, sorry. Got distracted for a moment there.” Her grin is wicked, and my cock aches in response.
As she lets the bra drop to the floor, her gorgeous boobs bounce free, and I have to resist the temptation to reach out and palm them. Squeeze them, cup them, pinch their stiff tips and pull the sensitive flesh into my mouth. I stay perfectly still, except for my eyes, which continue to watch as she hooks her thumbs into her black thong and lowers it to the floor. She bends all the way to the floor, still holding the skimpy material, and I know she’s doing it on purpose, giving me the most amazing view of her nearly-naked form, all dips and curves and skin I just want to touch, to taste. To lose myself in.
Apparently, she’s done with the teasing now, because she moves over and joins me on the bed. For a moment, our gazes meet and hold. I see so much of Carrie in that gaze—stuff I already knew, stuff I suspected, and things she probably never wants me to see or know. But none of that matters, because it is cementing something I’ve long suspected, but haven’t dared voice, not even to myself. I love her.
I’m not ready for this, and she sure as hell isn’t, so I keep my epiphany to myself. Instead, I reach out and cup her face again, then kiss her.
She’s warm, willing, and so damn sexy that I can’t keep a check on my need. Almost immediately I push my tongue into her
mouth and seek out hers. Carrie responds in kind, and our kiss deepens, the lust we’re feeling for each other pouring out, heating us up, egging us on.
Pulling away briefly, I smile, then lie down, patting the mattress beside me.
Carrie shakes her head. “I’m taking care of everything, remember?”
I nod, and wait to see what she does next. Fortunately, she doesn’t keep me waiting too long.
Straddling my stomach, she leans down and picks up our kiss where we left off, our tongues tangling together, fighting, dancing, thrusting. She moans long and deep, and my cock twitches uselessly—behind her, temporarily neglected.
I rake my hands over her skin, her shoulders, her back, her hips. Her arse. Oh God, her arse. I haven’t had chance to study it—unclothed, anyway—so I make the most of my sense of touch, squeezing and caressing the rounded cheeks, hoping I’ll get the chance to bury my face between them and lick her pussy until she comes.
She’s pressed against me, wriggling and making sexy little noises as we kiss, and I swear I feel dampness on my stomach. I pull in a hasty breath through my nostrils in an attempt to get a hold of myself, and creep my fingers right around her luscious bottom, seeking her pussy.
I wasn’t wrong. She is wet. Soaked, actually, and the knowledge sends blood pumping through my veins at what feels like a hundred miles an hour. I feel hideously out of practice, almost like an inexperienced teenager, so I just keep doing what I’m doing and hope she’ll tell me if I get it wrong.
I’m really glad that she’s pretty small and I’m so big, because it means my arms are long enough to reach her pussy from this angle. I touch her, her heat almost scorching my fingers, and slick her juices around, paying attention to her reactions in order to figure out what works for her and what doesn’t. I press a finger to her clit, gently, and am gratified to hear her yelp—although the sound is swallowed into my mouth as we’re still kissing as though our lives depend on it.
Circling the distended bud, I’m surprised when Carrie suddenly reaches back and grips my wrists, pulling my hands away from her core. Breaking the kiss, I protest. “Hey, what are you doing? I want to—”
The Billionaire and the Wild Man Page 10