By: Alexa Riley

I sit in a very formal dining room as I wait for Flynn to come back. It was adorable how he didn’t want to leave my side when some woman named Sally wanted to talk to him in private. She seemed to find it equally amusing. I had to promise that my ass wouldn’t move from this chair as she half-dragged him out of the room by his arm. It was almost like he thought I might up and disappear.

I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know what’s happening here between us, but I know it’s something. I want it, and I’m jumping in head first. My heart almost leapt out of my chest when Flynn said we were falling in love. It’s crazy. I’ve only known this man for hours. But another part of me knows he’s right. It’s the only way to explain these feelings I’m having.

Just as crazy is this house I’m in. I don’t think you could even call it a house. It’s way up in the Hollywood Hills where only the elite live. I’ve been in rich homes before for photo shoots and parties for new campaigns. But those houses were nothing like this one. Those houses were rich, owned by actors or directors. This is a house of wealth. A person who cuts the checks for actors and directors. A person who really pulls the strings.

Flynn pulled me from the car before I could really get a good look, swooping me up in his arms like I weighed nothing and carrying me into the house. I tried to protest that I could walk, but he said he was worried my heels would catch on the stone driveway. I couldn’t help but giggle at that. I hadn’t learned to walk yesterday, and I lived in heels. There wasn’t a thing I couldn’t do in them, except maybe run. And I don’t run.

He’d carried me through the house straight into the dining room where he deposited me in this very chair, then started going at my mouth again like he was starved for me. Like he hadn’t just kissed me minutes before in the back of his car. It seemed like his hunger for me was growing, and that hunger made me feel like some kind of goddess. It was empowering and intoxicating. It was like he lived and breathed for me.

I should probably think that’s crazy, too, but I found myself wanting to see how deep that hunger ran. Then when Sally cleared her throat, pulling us from the kiss fog we’d fallen under, Flynn actually growled at having to pull away from the kiss. The sound traveled through my body and straight to my core. Sally also seemed to be amused by that as well. After introducing herself, she pulled Flynn from the room.

I look at the table, seeing it has dishes laid out with silver domes over each one. I wonder if a butler will come in and remove the lid like they do in those movies. I reach out to lift the lid, curious at what’s underneath, when Flynn comes prowling back into the room.

“Sorry, Sally can be like a mother hen sometimes, and she wanted to know every detail she could pull from me about you,” he says as he stalks towards me, stopping next to my chair to bend down and kiss my cheek. The soft kiss lingers before he finally pulls back. “Thank you for not leaving.” He says it so softly I’m not even sure he meant to say it at all. He sits in the chair next to mine and, taking me by surprise, he grabs my chair and pulls it closer to his so they’re right up against each other.

“Still too much space,” he mumbles, standing up again and pushing his chair back. He bends and lifts me into his arms. I squeak out in surprise and find myself sitting sideways in his lap, his ass now planted in the seat I was just in. “Much better,” he says, releasing a deep breath like he’s actually relieved and that the other chair had been causing him some distress or something.

“You want me to eat sitting on your lap?” I half-laugh like it’s funny, but I do want to eat sitting in his lap. I like his hands on me. I like even more how easily he seems to handle me. I’m not a small girl, but he makes me feel like it. Compared to him, though, everything has got to be small.

“I want to do everything with you sitting in my lap.” He brushes my hair off my shoulder. “I can’t seem to stop myself now that I have you close enough to touch. I don’t think I’m able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” I admit. If he’s going to be blunt about his feelings, I’m going to do the same. I like how honest he is and how he doesn’t seem to care that he’s openly obsessed with me.

“I’m not sure I could, even if you asked me to.” His eyes meet mine, and my heartbeats pick up at those words. Not because they scare me, but because they do the opposite. They turn me on. Holy fuck. We just sit and stare, unable to break eye contact. Maybe he’s thinking I might freak out at his dark honesty, but I find I want to keep going down this rabbit hole.

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