Come As You Are
I don’t know that I like him.
But I don’t really think it matters. I like that he’s so straightforward. I know where I stand with Kermit the Douche. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I hold out my hand.
He shakes.
“I accept.”
36
Sabrina
Flynn opens the door for me. I steel myself, prepared to be dazzled.
When I step into his apartment, my eyes turn into planets. “It’s a palace.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “It’s not. Stop it.”
Gawking at his home, I correct him. “It is. This is the entire floor. Your home is the entire top floor of the building.”
It’s stunning. The living room is the size of a museum gallery, a wide-open space with beautiful wood floors, a navy-blue sectional couch with tons of pillows, and framed photos of cities around the world hanging on the walls.
Floor-to-ceiling windows gaze upon Gramercy Park. I spin around to see his sprawling kitchen. It would be the envy of any chef, with stainless-steel pots hanging from hooks above the counters and a white sink so big I could practically bathe in it. “This is insane.”
“It’s just home.”
For the first time, I’m keenly aware of the differences between us—I live in my cousin’s shoebox on the first floor. He lives in his own castle overlooking the city. Everything I have—memo: nothing—is paltry compared to his digs. But I’m not jealous. I’m simply impressed and amazed at its beauty.
He grabs my wrist and pulls me close. “It doesn’t make you uncomfortable, does it?”
“What? Uncomfortable? No. It’s beautiful and stunning, and I’ve never seen anything like it. Why would it make me uncomfortable?”
He shrugs. “I just picked up on a vibe from you. I want you to like being here.”
I run my fingers up the buttons on his shirt. “Flynn, you’re here. That’s why I’m here. You can show me the rest of the place or you can just kiss me, and I’ll be happy either way.”
He hauls me in close and kisses the breath out of me. I am happy. I’m happy either way with him. Especially because he’s made me dinner, a veggie pasta dish that looks delicious.
I set the white wine I brought on the table, and he brings over the plates. We sit, and he asks how everything went with Kermit as he opens the bottle.
I give him the overview, ending with, “And he’s running the piece.”
“So it wasn’t all for naught?”
“It was definitely not for naught. It was all for naughty if you think about it, since it led me to you,” I say with a wink.
Laughing, he points the opened bottle at me. “Nice wordplay.”
“But we’re not celebrating one mere story.” I pause for effect. “We’re celebrating a job.”
“Seriously? I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I don’t. But I like the work he has for me, and I like that he’s forthright and upfront. I can handle the rest.”
He pours two glasses and offers a toast. “To a fresh start. And to a genius move on his part—securing the best.”
I blush and whisper my thank you.
When we’re done, he leaves the dishes on the table and takes me to the couch. He lays me down and climbs over me, kissing me as he grinds against me.
In seconds, I’m hot and bothered. He flips me to my side, moving so he’s behind me as he pushes up my skirt. My panties come off, his jeans are down, and we’re side to side. He slides into me, his hand slinking between my legs, the other on my breasts as he moves in me, gripping me hard. Electricity crackles under my skin, and I sizzle, burning hotter and brighter with every thrust.
His hold is so tight I can barely move. I feel safe with him, and I feel wanted too. Flynn makes me feel beautiful and sexy and brilliant, and like I don’t have to carry the weight of my world on my shoulders. Like he’s willing to bear some of it for me, even as he takes me to the edge, bringing me incomparable pleasure again and again and again.
When we’re done, he draws me into his arms, pointing through the windows at the sumptuous emerald-green park. “Eventually, I’ll get you into the park. You keep distracting me with sex.”
“I’ll distract you again if you’d like.”
Before he can answer, his phone beeps. “Another distraction,” he mutters and reaches for it on the coffee table. He clicks open a note, and his expression transforms as he reads it. A wild, delighted grin takes over his face.
“There’s something I have to show you.”
“You want to show me an email?”
“Yes. It’s an important one. It’s from your brother’s school.”
“What?” A strange dread courses through me. “Why would they write to you?”
He smiles impishly. He’s good at that. “Because his schooling is paid for.”
A shock jolts into me. The hair on my arms stands on end. “You did not just say that.”
He nods, proudly. Ridiculously proudly.
“Did you pay for the rest of his master’s?”
“I did.” His green eyes twinkle.
“You can’t pay for my brother’s school.”
“I can, though, and I have.”
“Why?” I ask, wonder and surprise etched in my voice.
“Because it makes your life easier. Because that’s what I want to do.”
“But Flynn . . .” I begin, only I’m not sure what I’m protesting. His generosity? “You can’t.”
He sets a hand on my thigh. “I had a feeling you’d be stubborn, so in case you’re worried, this isn’t just for your brother.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wanted to make sure it didn’t feel like a handout to you. And I didn’t want to simply pay off his bill. So I set it up in a way you can’t refuse.”
I stare at him, waiting for him to say more.
“I set up a scholarship fund for . . .” he pauses, looks at the ceiling, pretends to count, then turns to me, “for all the current students at his divinity school. Everything is covered for all of them from now until graduation, including your brother.”
My jaw comes unhinged. “Are you serious?”
“Completely.” He dots a kiss onto my nose. “Let me ease your burdens, Sabrina. Including the ones here”—he stops to tap my breastbone—“where you think you can’t accept this. This is for everyone, including your brother.”
“You’re too much.”
“You’re talking about my dick again now, right?” He winks.
I laugh and run my hands through his hair. “All of you. You’re too much, too wonderful, too sexy, and too good in bed. And that means I’m not letting you go.”
“Excellent. How about letting me go down on you?”
I shake my head. “It’s my turn.”
I get on my knees for him. He spreads his arms across the back of the couch, all of Gramercy Park and Manhattan and the world unfurled before him, all at his fingertips. He has so much, he gives so freely, and right now, he gets to take his reward.
Like a dirty Prince Charming. Like a man who deserves everything good his woman gives him.
Flynn
This is better than pineapple math. Better than free pizza. This is . . . my brain short-circuits as she draws me in deep.
I groan and curl my hands around her head, threading my fingers through her hair. I want to close my eyes, let my head fall back, and just revel in the feeling.