Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
June: Hi! I have a 1:00 tour. I can grab breakfast and head that way
Flynn: Perfect!
Chapter Twenty
Flynn
I make Mrs. Rawlings her morning tea.
We go to Pilates.
Back home for breakfast.
Then she retreats to her room with Loki without giving me any more instructions.
She’s been friendly, but distant today. Did I make things awkward between us by asking her such personal questions yesterday? Probably.
While I wait for June to get here, I clean the litter box and detail out the Tesla. Just as I look out the front window, a black SUV pulls into the circle drive, and June hops out of the back seat.
We need to get her driver’s license renewed.
She slowly walks toward the front door in her ripped jeans and floral sleeveless top while pulling her hair into a ponytail. I’m unfamiliar with the feeling I get from watching her. It’s something between excitement and an urgent need to press my mouth against hers.
Before her finger reaches the doorbell, I open the door.
“Hi,” she bites her bottom lip, but that’s now my job, so I pull her into my body, and do just that.
June giggles when I don’t let go. “I”—she pulls her lip free—“don’t think we’re supposed to be making out while you’re on the clock. Where are Rupert and Callie?”
I close the door behind us as she slips off her Birkenstocks. “I don’t know where Rupert is, but Callie is in her bedroom, so there’s no one to see us making out. And how do you always get a black SUV as a ride?” I grab her waist and pull her to me, sliding my hands to her ass.
“Good question.” She shrugs, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me.
I walk her backwards toward the kitchen, keeping our mouths fused despite her weak attempt to look behind her to see where we’re going. Just outside the kitchen, there’s a half-bath under the stairs. I pull her into it and slide the pocket door shut.
“What are we doing?” she whispers.
In the soft glow of the nightlight to the right of the sink, I pull my wallet out and grab the newly stocked condom. Then I kiss her again.
“Flynn,” she rears her head back. “No. We’ll get caught.”
“Doubt it,” I say, unbuttoning her jeans and leaning in for another kiss.
She takes a few seconds. I can feel her stiff hesitation, but then she works the button and zipper to my jeans, and I can’t stop grinning as she kisses me back a little harder.
Whose life is this?
A beautiful, smart, funny, talented, mesmerizing woman wants me as much as I want her. If this is love, then I’ve been an idiot for years, running from all chances to experience this.
It’s quick and dirty, like bar bathroom sex, yet totally different because it’s June. I release one leg from her jeans, and she pushes mine halfway down my thighs, like we’ve done this dance a million times. We haven’t, but we should.
June rests one hand behind her, gripping the faucet, the other clenches my shirt. I hold her legs on either side of my hips. Our mouths seal in a passionate kiss with tiny moans. I’ve never felt so wanted.
Not as a child.
Not as a friend.
Not as a man.
Until her.
She breaks our kiss, lips sliding to my ear so all I hear are her tiny little gasps in rhythm with my thrusting into her.
If this is what Monroe feels with Naomi, I owe him an apology.
As we pull our jeans back on, June leans forward onto her toes and brushes her nose along my earlobe. “God, I love you.”
I don’t know if there’s enough light for her to see my shit-eating grin, but it’s beginning to feel like a permanent expression.
Sliding open the door, I listen for anyone, then I poke my head around the corner. The coast is clear, so I take her hand and pull her into the kitchen, jolting to a halt with June doing the same thing right behind me.
“Mr. Rawlings,” I say before clearing my throat.
He doesn’t look at us. He’s too busy stacking vanilla sandwich cookies in a big glass cookie jar. Just a guy in a suit, perched on a barstool, stacking cookies like blocks. He’s peculiar as fuck.
“Did you kids get your sexual tension worked out?”
“Oh, my god,” June whispers, hiding behind me.
Rupert chuckles, but he still doesn’t look at us. “It’s fine. Good for you. I remember mid-afternoon quickies. It feels like a lifetime ago.”
“Do you think Mrs. Rawlings would like to see June now?” I ask, ignoring everything he’s said.
“Probably. Send her up.” He finally looks at me while separating a cookie and licking the middle several times.
“Just her?”
He nods.
I turn toward June. “Top of the stairs. Go right. Her room is the one at the end of the hallway. I’ll be up soon.”