direct. Don’t-mess-with-me direct. ‘I’ve told you stuff I’ve told no one. Not even the Ravensdales know I was abandoned as a baby. They only know I was adopted.’
Kat shifted her mouth from side to side, wondering if he regretted telling her. She seemed a strange ally for his secrets. She had made it clear she didn’t like him and yet he had told her things he had told no one else. Or did he suspect she did like him? That she liked him more than she wanted to admit to herself? ‘Why did you tell me?’
One side of his mouth lifted in a wry smile and he reached for his crutches to get off the bed. ‘I have absolutely no idea. Maybe it’s the painkillers and alcohol combination.’
Kat wondered if it was because he saw something in her that he saw in himself: the bone-deep sense of aloneness, of not belonging anywhere or to anyone. Of always having to rely on yourself with no one as backup. ‘I won’t tell anyone. You have my word.’
‘And when you make a promise you keep it, right?’
She glanced at his slanted mouth. Right now she wished she had never made that crazy promise to her friend Maddie. Right now all she wanted to do was press her lips against his and taste the sensual heat of him, to feel the potency of him awakening every female pore of her body into an inferno of lust.
He came to stand in front of her but because he was on crutches his mouth was closer than normal. She could see every line and contour, the way the edges turned up at the corners, as if he was used to smiling far more than not. It impressed her that he was so positive in outlook, considering his tragic beginnings and the way his adoptive family held him at arm’s length. Most people would be bitter and angry at the world. A little like me. So many people from difficult backgrounds became difficult people. The cycles of neglect and abuse often went on for generations.
But Flynn had made something of himself, refusing to let his tragic background stop him from achieving all he set out to achieve. He had qualities she couldn’t help admiring. Most of the men she had been involved with had exploited her in some way. But Flynn hadn’t sabotaged her fledging relationship with Miranda and Jaz, even though he’d had a perfect opportunity.
Why had he done that?
What did it mean?
Why was he treating her as if he had plans for building a future with her?
Kat looked into the dark-brown depths of his eyes, her stomach free-falling when they went to her mouth. He leaned one hand on his crutch and lifted the other to her face in a fainéant movement from the top of her cheekbone to just beside her mouth, his fingertip leaving a trail of fire against her skin. She sent her tongue out over her lips, swallowing deeply as she sensed him leaning closer. Her pelvis registered his proximity, her inner core contracting with a pulse of vicious need.
His mouth hovered above hers, his warm, faint-hint-of-whisky breath wafting over her tingling lips. His nose bumped against hers, a soft nudge that was powerfully, shamelessly, erotic. His stubble-shadowed skin grazed her cheek, sending her senses into a swishing, swirling tailspin. The tip of his tongue stroked the vermillion border of her bottom lip, a caress so intoxicating, so arousing, it nearly knocked her off her feet.
But somehow Kat managed to gather her scattered senses long enough to realise she had won a vital point against him. ‘You kissed me.’
His eyes contained a dark glitter that put that point she’d scored in jeopardy. ‘That’s not a kiss.’
‘You touched my lips with your tongue.’
‘Nah-ah. I touched the edge of your lip.’
‘You’re taking hair splitting to a whole new level,’ Kat said. ‘You did so kiss me.’
His mouth lifted in that devilish smile that did so much lethal damage to her self-control. And her resolve...wherever the hell it was. ‘That’s not a kiss.’ He leaned closer. ‘But this is.’
IN THE END, Kat wasn’t entirely sure if he or she had closed that final distance. All she knew was as soon as Flynn’s mouth came into contact with hers every thought of resisting him flew out of her head like bats out of a cave. His lips moved against hers with gentle pressure, not crushing, but cajoling hers into a passionate exchange that made every knob of her spine loosen. Her mouth flowered open beneath the first stroke of his tongue, the intimate invasion a toe-curling reminder of the act both their bodies craved—had craved from the moment they’d first met.
Was that not why it was so hard to step away and tell him to back off? Was that not why she had made that celibacy pact, because from the first moment she had laid eyes on him she had wanted him? She had recognised the danger he represented to her—the danger of being involved with someone where she wasn’t the one in control.
Her body was dizzy with longing for more of his drugging kiss. Her tongue tangled with his in a heated duel; it was a combat of wills, a collision of personalities, a celebration of all that was physically arousing between a man and a woman. Her mouth was on fire with the potency of his, the assault on her senses unlike any other kiss she had received in the past.
For one thing, he wasn’t holding her, on account of his crutches. It was only his mouth that was connected to her. His lips were fused to hers, drawing from her a response that was wild, hungry and desperately needy. Was it because she hadn’t been kissed in weeks and weeks—months, even? Or was it because Flynn’s kiss spoke to her on a level no one had ever been able to reach? She wanted to melt against his body but his crutches were an impediment. He was tilted towards her but if she pushed against him she was concerned he would fall. She wound her arms around his waist, her breasts coming into contact with the hard wall of his chest, but even that was enough to put him off-balance.
He lifted his mouth off hers and clutched at his crutches to rebalance himself. ‘This isn’t working quite the way it should.’
Kat lowered herself back on her heels, her hands falling away from his body, her cheeks hot as a bonfire. Two bonfires. Possibly three. What was she doing? Where was her self-control? Her resolve? Where the heck was her flipping resolve? ‘I suppose you think I’ll fall into bed with you now you’ve kissed me.’
His eyes were dark and glinting. Victory glinting. I-want-you-and-I-know-you-want-me glinting. ‘You could fall or you could walk the couple of steps. I’d offer to carry you but I’m not sure I could pull it off with these sticks.’
‘I’m not going to sleep with you.’
‘But you want to.’
Kat laughed but even to her own ears it sounded fake. So much for the actor’s handbook. She was going to have to brush up on the not-interested-in-you look.
She was interested in him.
He excited her. He challenged her. He thrilled her.
She had never met a more mesmerising man. Her senses were still reeling from having experienced the heart-stopping heat and passion of their first kiss—a kiss that had been months in the making. The chemistry between them had built each time they had been in contact. Every look, every bantering word exchanged, every locked gaze, had led to a kiss beyond anything she had experienced before.
What would happen if she allowed things to go further?
Making love with Flynn Carlyon would be dangerous. How could she keep her heart disengaged when he was already ambushing her with his wit, his humour, his intelligence, not to mention his Olympic-standard determination? He wanted her and wasn’t afraid to let her know it. The knowledge of his desire for her spoke to her own desire for him like a secret code embedded in her body. She could feel the electrifying shockwave of longing every time he looked at her with that smouldering gaze. The silent message he conveyed moved through her body, making her pulse race and her heartbeat escalate. ‘I’m not getting involved with you.’
‘Because I’m too close to your father?’