strong and sure against her, the taut strength of his body pinioning her.
Then Flynn slipped his hand between them, moulding one aching breast, and her blood caught fire.
* * *
The sound of Ava’s pleasure was part gasp, part sob, part roughened purr that trailed like cut velvet down his spine, drawing every nerve and sinew tight and hard.
And the taste of her! Sunshine and juicy ripe raspberries. She was like long-ago summers that never ended. And sex. Needy, greedy, heart-thumpingly satisfying sex.
Flynn’s hold tightened on her soft breast and she pressed closer, her nipple a hard little nub against his palm. His heartbeat thundered in his head and his groin.
She responded so readily. She was flame in his hands, making him burn to the depths of his being.
He nudged her legs wider, insinuating his thigh where her heat beckoned, and she welcomed him, her kisses even more fervent.
Flynn groaned into her mouth. She was killing him.
Who’d have thought his delicate English beauty would be a raunchy tigress beneath the jeans and bright, spotted T-shirt? He’d spent a week biding his time, cautious not to overstep the bounds, fearing she might shy from anything too physical too soon. Yet here she was all but climbing his body, supple and eager and so very enticing.
So much for his careful planning!
Flynn rubbed his thumb over her peaked nipple and she shuddered, making his groin spasm. He slipped his other hand from her jaw and down, to cup her backside in those tight jeans, lifting her to cushion his erection. His heavy eyelids sagged as carnal hunger dragged at him.
He couldn’t remember wanting any woman so fervently. It wasn’t what he’d anticipated.
But he should have. He’d wanted her all those years ago, hadn’t he?
‘Flynn...’
It was a sigh and a promise. An invitation he couldn’t resist.
He swung round towards the bed, holding her close—only to come up against the sloping ceiling.
‘Are you okay?’ Gentle fingers skimmed his head.
‘Fine.’
Already he was scanning the twin beds against the far wall. Twin beds! Ava must have booked this room when she’d still expected to share with the girlfriend who’d taken ill and couldn’t travel.
Ava wriggled, her thighs clamping his, and his brain refocused instantly.
They didn’t need a bed. The floor would do—or, yes, here.
Flynn turned, imprisoning her once again against the wall. He slipped his hand from her buttocks round her hip, then down between her legs. Only taut denim and whatever flimsy underwear she wore separated him from the place he wanted to bury himself. She tilted her pelvis into his touch and fire roared through him.
The first time would be fast and hard, but then he’d take his time, learning every exquisite inch of her.
Flynn took her mouth with his, demanding, urging, and Ava responded without hesitation.
Her eagerness was tempered with a slight awkwardness he found faintly endearing. How long since he’d had a woman so obviously inexperienced? Not since his first fumbling assignation in his teens. After a diet of skilful sophisticates Ava was an entrancing breath of fresh air.
Hadn’t he known from the first she was the perfect woman for him?
He’d stroked his hand to the top of her zip when something made him stop. Some sound just discernible through the rush of blood in his ears. Voices. A door slamming. He frowned, lifting his head.
‘It’s okay—just someone in the next room,’ Ava whispered against his throat.
Flynn squeezed his eyes shut as the voices continued, followed by the sound of music. The walls must be made of cardboard.
Behind him a door banged, loud enough that for a moment he thought someone had entered the room. But it must be someone across the landing.
Hell!
‘Flynn?’
Ava’s soft hand stroked his jaw. Even that innocent touch was almost enough to jettison his doubts and obliterate his uncharacteristic hesitation.
Until he opened his eyes and found himself staring into wide cerulean eyes. They were glazed with the same heat he felt, but there was doubt too, a question he’d never seen in the eyes of the women he took to bed.
But Ava wasn’t like them. She was an innocent.
The word hit his chest like the blow of a sledgehammer, robbing him of breath.
Flynn hadn’t missed the almost imperceptible distance she’d kept between them in Paris, even when her eyes shone with laughter and her body language told him she wasn’t immune to him. The stunned delight on her face when he’d kissed her hand today, her almost defiant expression when she’d invited him up here and her passionate kisses, with that slight edge of eager clumsiness, all confirmed it.
Ava wanted him but she was sexually inexperienced. He’d lay odds she was a virgin.
Twenty-four and a virgin. How was it possible?
She leaned in and nuzzled his throat, planting small open-mouthed kisses that turned his body to steel and threatened the last vestige of his control. She rubbed his back in needy arcs and his jeans shrank as her palms came to rest on his buttocks.
His head spun as her grip tightened.
Once more his gaze shifted to the cramped beds. Laughter sounded from the next room and with a sinking feeling Flynn felt his dormant conscience stir.
He didn’t care if the neighbours heard them having raunchy, scream out loud sex against the wall. He didn’t give a damn if he had Ava on a bed or the floor or up against this wall. So long as he had her.
But this wasn’t just about him.
This would be Ava’s first time.
He couldn’t dislodge the thought.
Instinct urged him to forget pointless scruples and take what he wanted. What they both wanted. The way she rubbed herself against him made it clear she was as desperate as he. It would be easy to tip her over the edge, give her the satisfaction they both craved, even in such unprepossessing surroundings.
His lips twisted in self-mockery. Was it selfishness or experience that told him he could please her so well that embarrassment and discomfort wouldn’t matter, even when the afterglow faded?
‘Flynn.’
Those luscious lips pressed against his and he felt his resolve drain. He could barely believe it when he grasped her by the elbows and stepped back. His body screamed denial at the loss of her lush body, those soft lips and eager hands.
Flynn swallowed. His throat worked over arid gravel.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
Ava wore the heavy-lidded look of arousal, her lips dark red from their kisses.
Pain cramped his groin at what he was giving up.
‘Nothing’s wrong.’ Yet his voice wasn’t his own. It was the growl of a wounded, hungry bear denied food.
She swayed closer and his hold tightened. He stepped away, watching the haziness fade from her eyes.
‘This isn’t a good idea.’
If there’d been any lingering doubt about Ava’s inexperience the rosy flush to her throat and cheeks would have eradicated it.
Contrarily, Flynn found himself for the first time in his life turned on by the idea of a blushing virgin. Excitement that bordered on avarice hammered in his veins. He revelled