“You talk in your sleep.”
How long has he known?
What exactly does he know?
Did he know that I didn’t always just dream of killing Dolinsky? That my dreams were painted with blood, sex, and destruction? Did he understand that it was the feeling of power that surged in my veins, more potent than any aphrodisiac or even adrenaline itself?
“Swear it to me, Barrett. Now. Swear that you won’t run from me again. No matter what goes on in your head. No matter what demons chase you. You come to me. Always.”
“I swear it,” I whispered helplessly.
He looked at me for a long moment and then he bent his head and touched his lips to mine. His tongue demanded entrance.
I opened to him, wanting—needing—him to prove his love for me in a manner deeper than words.
Flynn had always been good at showing his love with words.
He was better at showing me with his body.
Flynn released me, but only so he could fling the blanket from my shoulders. We fumbled like two teenagers trying to get our clothes off while attempting not to break contact with our lips.
Finally, the both of us grew too demanding.
I ripped my mouth from his and stepped away. My fingers went to the buttons of my pants, and I hastily shucked them off. I yanked the sweater over my head and cast it aside.
Flynn’s eyes glittered with desire as he hastily removed his own clothes.
When we both stood completely naked, we stared at each other. The years we’d spent together had been kind to him. Except for a few scars from being shot, he looked the same as when we’d met.
I was softer.
I bore the scars of carrying his children.
My body had been through many wars in the name of protecting my family.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered gruffly.
“I’m broken.”
He stepped closer and traced my belly with his fingers. “You’re a warrior.”
His hands plowed into my hair, and he firmly pulled my head toward him and brought my mouth to his again. I closed my eyes and reveled in his touch. I breathed him in, wondering why this man had chosen me.
“Stop thinking,” he said against my lips. “That’s your problem. You think too damn much.”
“Help me not think,” I pleaded.
Flynn slid his arms around me, and we sank to the ground on the dark rug next to the firelight. He lay me down on my back and looked at me.
“Touch me, Flynn.”
His hands skated up my body to caress my breasts. He flicked my nipples and then pinched them between his fingertips.
I moaned with desire at what was coming.
Then he leaned down and took one of the tightening buds into his mouth. He swept his tongue across my sensitive breast while his hand teased the other.
I tried to reach down and grasp him, but he batted my fingers away.
