Page 42 of Flynn

“I am sorry.” She gulped between tears, her fingers racing over the bunched muscles of his arms and going to his broad shoulders. “I am sorry.”

“Hush,” he whispered hoarsely, his hands roaming over her back and pressing her against him. He felt the shudder racing through his body at the thought that he could have lost her. The magnitude of that was only just now materializing. Clutching her against his chest, he buried his face in her hair, inhaled her scent, and kissed her neck.

Lifting her face from his chest, Ryleigh stared at him for a second before using her hands to cradle his face. Bringing his head down, she kissed him hungrily, sending white-hot darts of passion straight to the core of him.

“Ryleigh,” he whispered hoarsely as he braced her back against the pillows. “Ryleigh-” He untied the string of her nightgown and took it off, hands racing over the bruises on her chest, fingers trembling.

“I am going to kill him for doing this to you,” he told her thickly.

“Flynn-” Her hands came up to wander over the hard planes of his face.

“Let me get out of my clothes-”

“You are upset.”

“I am mad as hell,” he corrected. Slided off the bed, he quickly removed his clothing before lying next to her.

“Make love to me.” She whispered.

“Try and stop me.” Reaching for her, he brushed back the hairs from her face and leaned over to kiss the dampness from her cheeks. His lips were tender, his large body half on top of her. He was already hard and bursting with desire. But she was still bruised, and he was going to have to take his time, even if it killed him.

Sliding his arms around her, he settled her on top of him, amber eyes blazing with passion. “We shouldn’t-”

“Yes.” Solving the problem, she reached between them, her fingers curling around his erection. Sliding down on the thick heat of him, she arched her body as he drove in deep.

“It feels so good,” she whispered, her fingers curling into his chest hairs.

His hands settled on her hips as he eased into her slowly at first, his teeth gritted as he tried to control the need to go faster and more profound. But she took control away from him when she started to ride him. With a tortured groan, he followed suit, his control destroyed.

Chapter 10

He sat behind the wheel, his fingers drumming on the padded leather. He had arrived at the restaurant two minutes ago and was trying to calm himself down enough not to overreact. The parking lot was crowded with lunchtime patrons, and the valets had their hands full.

He had been there several times with Sophia, where they had dined al fresco, and she had exclaimed how much she loved sitting outside beneath the stars.

The flash of memory irritated him enough to deepen his frown. It was almost the end of a harsh winter, even though it felt like the season was finally taking a slow and winding path to leave.

Overhanging palms were dripping with the water from the recent rain, which had washed away the snow. He had lied to Ryleigh, at least by omission. He had not revealed to her that he was familiar with the defendant or whatever he was now.

I am more than familiar with him. In another life, they had been best friends and gang members. The memory of that had him opening the car and getting out. He had refused the valet parking, preferring to do it himself, which gave him time to think.

He had shed his suit jacket, necessary for today's meetings, and removed his tie. He had also loosened the three top buttons of his baby blue shirt and was wearing an ink-black cashmere outer jacket, the fine material warding off the cold.

He had not bothered to button it up but left it flapping behind him as he made his way through the double glass doors and into the marble foyer, where he was greeted with a flirty smile by the hostess behind the counter.

With only a curt nod, he told her he was meeting someone and said the name. Without question, he was escorted into the ruby and gold interior and straight to where Marvin Daley lounged behind a circular table, idly sipping a glass of red wine.

He had come up in the world, Flynn thought sardonically. They both had. From experience, he knew that to get a reservation at this particular eatery, one had to see the owner or be willing to wait for months to step inside its lofty interior.

It was the former for Flynn and would be the latter for Daley unless he had slipped a ton of cash to someone. He saw when the man noticed him, the guarded surprise flitting over his face as he rose, the snowy white napkin clutched in his left hand. And he was not alone.

Two men standing guard moved forward threateningly as he walked purposefully towards the table. The bulge in their waists was unmistakable.

“Call off your dogs,” Flynn ordered and, without breaking strides, pulled out the opposite chair and sat down.

With a nod, Marvin did just that, a slow smile touching his lips. “If you had called, I would have made the reservation for two.”

“I don’t eat with scum, it's bad for digestion.” He made note of the furious glitter in the man’s eyes before it was deliberately tamped down.