Stubbing out his cigar, slowly unwinding his long, muscular limbs, he stood. “I’m not worth it,” he said softly, the sound of the crashing surf making it difficult to hear. “I get bored easily.” He moved close enough to touch her, but didn’t. “I have a temper and I don’t like to share my toys.” Stepping around so that he stood behind her, he ran his fingers along her spine to the dip at the bottom of her back. “I’ve discovered when it comes to you, I have a nasty jealous streak.”

“Are you trying to scare me away?”

“I’m telling you the truth about me.” His hand fanned out and he cupped her right butt cheek and squeezed. “I like rough play.”

“If it isn’t rough, it isn’t fun,” she threw back, shocked at her words, but imagining rough sex with this man heated her blood.

The sound of a deep primal growl as it rumbled from his chest to his throat sent gooseflesh scattering across her body.

“I’d kill any man who put his hands on you without your permission.” His hand slid around to her waist and splayed down her belly to rest on her mound. “And I would never give permission for another man to touch you.”

Izzy swallowed hard, highly aroused and for the first time afraid. Not that he would hurt her, but of his dominant nature.

He slid his hand up her belly, across her breasts to her throat, and up to her jaw. He pulled her back, bowing her back until she could see the heat in his blazing eyes. “Don’t think for one minute, Isadora, that I would force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Okay.”

“But expect me to push you to your limits.”

She shivered hard.

He nipped her neck and stood back. Twirling her around, he took her hand and pulled her toward the door. “Let’s eat.”

Chapter Thirteen

With Pink’s hand beneath his on the gearshift, Flynn sped up the coastal highway.  Tension tightened his body, and emotions he’d never dealt with collided in his heart.

The tension was twofold. He was white-hot for the body sitting less than a foot from him. He was hornier than a teenager in a whorehouse. He’d always had a healthy libido, but with Pink it was on steroids. The other half of his tension sprung from the need to prepare for the final conflict that was coming. One of them was going to get hurt by the freight train barreling straight for them. Badly.

 He knew they were destined to a showdown over his issue with her job at the club.  While she wasn’t up on the pole, she was on the floor three nights a week, wearing a scrap of material that barely covered her nipples, ass and pussy. She heightened the look with that belly button ring, the thin gold chain she wore around her waist and those fuck me heels.

How was he supposed to feel knowing each time she stepped into that place guys would be grab-assing her?  What if Andre insisted she perform another lap dance?  As determined, as Flynn knew she was, he knew she’d do it.  And that ate at him the most.  He didn’t want anyone to see what he was privileged to see.

The thought of hurting her ate at him. He wasn’t a dick. He’d never intentionally hurt her, but he couldn’t pretend her job didn’t bother him because it went beyond bothering him. It infuriated him. Damn if she didn’t intrigue him more.

She did something to him and he wasn’t going to let it go because of what she did for a living, regardless of why. Not yet. He’d kept the darker side of his sexual nature under control. He’d watched what out-of-control lust had done to his parents’ marriage. What it was doing to his brother’s and his sister’s. Flynn had always tempered his sexual encounters, never fully letting loose. He’d been Ken dating Barbie dolls.  Plastic and hollow.  Something Pink would never be.

Pink was no Barbie doll. Flynn smiled. Not even Stripper Barbie. She was everything Barbie was too afraid to be.

With Pink he wanted to explore his sexual depths. He knew she’d be game, too. As inexperienced as she was, she had the same deep passionate streak in her that he had. Whatever they had went beyond sex. He didn’t have to touch her to feel their connection. It thrummed like a live wire around them. When they came together, Jesus, the way she made him feel. Like Superman. He’d never felt anything like it. Fucking Pink was the most amazing experience of his life.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel and on her hand. That feeling of being flattened by a freight train gripped him again.

“You’re hurting me,” she said softly.

Immediately he let up the pressure on her hand. “I’m sorry, I zoned out for a minute.”

“Your entire body’s tense. What were you thinking about?”

He didn’t want to ruin the quiet mood they’d fallen into. He wanted to enjoy a nice dinner, maybe take a walk on the beach, then take her back to the room and make slow sweet love to her. His dick jerked in agreement against his thigh.

“I was just thinking about a case I was working on.”

“You’re a lousy liar. But if you’re telling the truth, then I feel like chopped liver.”

He laughed. “Chopped liver?”

“I thought what happened an hour ago on the balcony was pretty amazing, and if you’re thinking about an old case, then maybe I wasn’t as amazing as I thought I was.”

Flynn slid her hand from the gearshift to the zipper on his jeans and the bulge that swelled when he put her hand there. “Does that feel like I forgot?” He raised her hand to his lips, turned it over and kissed her palm. “I can’t wait to get you back between the sheets.”

“Then why didn’t we order room service?”

He squeezed her hand and groaned. “You’re killing me, woman.”

Smiling slyly, she purred, “I’ve never licked a meal off a man’s belly before.”

“Do you want me to turn around? Because I will.”

She laughed and sat back into the comfortable leather seat. “No, let’s go mingle with the less sexed and play footsie under the table and drink.”

“You can drink champagne, I’m driving.”

“I’ve never had champagne.”

“Tonight you will.”

Just a few minutes later they pulled up to a Peruvian restaurant he’d been to a few times and thought Pink would enjoy. The food was good, the place clean, and they had great beach patio dining.

As Flynn helped her out of the car, he pulled her soft warmth against him. She melted into him. Her bubble gum scent teasing his nostrils. Clasping her face between his hands, he lowered his lips to hers. Before he kissed her, he whispered, “Tell me you’re wearing panties.”

Giggling, she fell deeper into him. He loved the way she felt, the way she let down her guard with him. She made loosening up easy. “Do you want me to lie or tell the truth?”

“Truth.”

She stood up on her toes and whispered loudly, “No panties.”

His hand dropped to her butt cheek and he smacked her. “You are a very bad girl, Pink.” He grabbed her ass and brushed his lips against hers. “I’m going to have to think of a suitable punishment for that.”

“I can think of a few.”

“Let’s discuss over dinner.” Before he laid her across the hood of his car and took what he wanted, he took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers, and led her into the restaurant.

Once they were settled at an outdoor table beneath a heater with clear wind barriers around them, Flynn ordered a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

“I thought you weren’t going to drink?”

“I can’t have you toast alone.”

When the glasses were poured, Flynn raised his glass to hers. “To us.”

“To us,” she said softly, clinked her glass against his, and took a sip. He watched her nose crinkle as the bubbles tickled her. Her face lit up with a dazzling smile that tightened his insides. Damn she was beautiful. Her pink lips pressed against the rim of the crystal glass and he watched the golden liquid pour against her equally pink tongue. His dick swelled. Did she have any clue at all what she did to him?