He returns with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream and two spoons and climbs back into the bed.
And just like that, Flynn makes the ugliest parts of my life bearable again. Almost pleasurable even.
Because Cherry Garcia ice cream is unbelievably good, especially when it’s shared in Flynn Taylor’s bed.
Cigar guy no longer had me as firmly in his grip because now I had something to distract myself with. Ice cream and Flynn.
Nadia
Sunday we stay in bed until late afternoon. My body is sore and raw in all the right places. I haven’t felt this comfortable being naked or even being in my own skin since before my abduction. Actually, ever.
Something about Flynn just allows me to let down my guard. To feel free. Like anything’s possible.
Flynn gained another fifty thousand followers since last night’s show. The short clips I posted seem to be going viral.
Flynn’s phone dings with an incoming text, and he picks it up and looks at it. “Hey, this is my dad,” he says, leaning up on an elbow. “He wants to know if I can fill in with his band in an hour.”
“Yes! I want to see his band. With you playing. May I come?”
Flynn’s grin is lazy. It makes my heart lurch. “Well, yeah. I was sort of asking you if it was okay if I played. I mean–I didn’t know how long you were going to hang out.”
“Oh!”
Gospodi, have I stayed too long? Is this getting too intense for him? I don’t want to be like that horrible Cadence.
I crawl off the bed. “I can go now. It’s okay.”
Flynn grabs my ankle and tugs me back. “Whoa. Where are you going? Hang on. I don’t want you to go.”
“You don’t?” I try not to sound as happy and hopeful as I feel.
I think we’re pretty good together.
That was what he said once, but I didn’t know whether he meant in bed or as a couple.
Probably not as a couple because that’s not what we are.
He crawls over me. His long bangs hang across his right eye. He’s beautiful in the morning sun. Magnificent, really.
I wish I could capture this moment for his fans.
Not for me. I don’t get to hold onto him. To this.
He straddles my waist and pins my wrists beside my head. Because it’s Flynn and his touch is gentle, nothing about the situation reminds me of captivity.
“Peaches, I have a bone to pick with you.”
“What does this mean?” I don’t understand the English turn of phrase.
“It means I have a complaint to lodge.”
“Oh.” My heart rate picks up speed. I’m already upset before I’ve even heard why he’s mad at me.
“I’m getting tired of you not making demands of me.”
I blink. Try to comprehend his words. Blink some more. “What?”
“I just invited you to weigh in on what we do tonight, and you try to bail on me.”
Bail. I remember this word. He means leave.
A warm flush washes over my skin, creeping across my chest and up my neck to my face. Do I understand him correctly? Is he saying I have…rights to him? To his time? His life?
“I know I don’t seem like the most dependable guy. Before I met you, I used to party five nights a week. I slept around. I didn’t try too hard at much of anything. So I get it if you don’t think I can man up and be held accountable.”
“Wait. That’s not true. That’s not true at all. I don’t think any of those things about you, Flynn.”
Pain lances through my heart at hearing how he sees himself. Have I contributed to that self-image? I don’t understand how.
He shrugs. “You can ask more of me, Nadia. I mean, if you want.”
My lips part, but I don’t know what to say.
What is he offering me? To be my boyfriend?
“I want that,” he says.
“I don’t understand,” I confess. I think it’s less a language barrier than Flynn not being completely clear.
He looks down at me with those warm brown eyes. “Do you want more?”
Caught between rushing to assure him that everything he’s given me is more than enough and wanting to beg for it all–the full Flynn package of moving in together, buying dishes and using matching toothbrushes–I end up with my mouth open and no words at all coming out.
In that moment, I watch something shut down behind Flynn’s eyes. “It’s cool,” he says, releasing my wrists. “I like what we have.” He climbs off me.
“Wait!” I grab his shoulders, but to my distress, he keeps moving.
I leap onto his back, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, so he’s carrying me when he stands.
He laughs, my weight pulling us both toppling backward to the bed.
“Like this?” I ask. “Can I demand piggyback rides?”
He frees himself of my hold and flips around, tickling me. I scream and giggle, pushing his hands away. “I’d be pissed if you didn’t.” I love the deep rumble of his voice.
“Can I demand spankings?” I must be channeling Kat, but I want the playfulness she and Adrian have. That ease and bond they have with each other.
Flynn flips me to my belly and lands a few choice slaps on my ass. “Always. You have the perfect ass for spanking.”
I try to think what else to demand of Flynn. I’m still not sure what he wants from me, all I know is I desperately want to give it to him. Everything he desires.
“I want my song.”
Flynn rolls me onto my back. “You’re getting your song, sweetheart. I’ve been working on it, but it’s not ready yet.” He leans over and kisses me.
“I’m going to make demands all day long, Flynn Taylor. You’ll be sorry you asked.”
He doesn’t look sorry, though. He looks far more content than he did a few minutes ago. “So tell me what you want to do this afternoon.”
Oh.