All along, Isa possessed an innocent belief in the human spirit, despite her rough start.  That was what defined her.

 Now, connected to her like this?  Their bodies so perfectly melded? This meeting of mind, body, and spirit was the most natural thing he had ever done in his life.  This house alone would never be a home, he realized, because it wasn’t about walls.  It was about flesh and bones.  Heart. Home was here, where Pink was.

“As long as I draw a breath, Isa, I will want this with you.”  He brushed his lips across her parted ones.

Tears welled in her eyes.

“No, no, baby, don’t do that.”  He swiped the moisture away with his thumbs.  “Smile for me.” He moved against her.

Her eyes widened and her lips curved up.

“Yeah, that’s the look I want to see.”  He thrust into her, she caught her breath, and fire flared in her eyes.  “You look like a sexy angel right now.  So pure and yet so hungry.” He nipped her bottom lip and thrust into her again.  “I want to consume every inch of you, Pink.  I want to keep you all to myself.” He thrust into her again and again, each time drawing a low, satisfied moan from her. He loved that he did that to her.  Loved that she surrendered all to him.

“I broke all my rules for you, Isa,” he rasped. “I want you to break all of yours for me.”

“My walls came crashing down the moment I laid eyes on you at the club,” she confessed.

Possessive fire burned through him.

“Flynn,” she breathed.  “I’m going to come.”

He smiled and pressed his lips to her ear.  “That’s the point, isn’t it?” He punctuated his question with a deep grinding plunge. Her velvet muscles clamped down around his pulsing cock, and as she came apart, so did he.

Kicking his shoes and jeans off, Flynn carried Pink upstairs to his bedroom.  By the time he laid her down on the bed, she was snoring softly.

He smiled at her.  One leg of her yoga pants was still hanging on her leg; the rest of her was naked.  Gently he pulled the pants from her and covered her with the sheet and tucked her in.

Long moments ticked by, but Flynn didn’t move from where he stood.  A maelstrom of emotions crashed inside his chest. If he could get away with it, he’d lock her in this house and only allow her to leave when he was with her.  He understood his obsessive fear of losing her was unhealthy.  If he allowed it to control his actions, he’d push her away.  She would come to distrust and ultimately despise him. He was like the kid with the best toy in the playground.  Everyone was going to want a turn and he wasn’t going to allow anyone to touch it for fear of it getting broken or stolen. His fear wasn’t born of jealousy.  He trusted Pink. She wasn’t the type of girl to look at other men or lead one on, once she gave her heart. Hell, he knew men would always look at her.  She was strong, and their connection so fierce he knew she would fight for it and him, too.

It was the fear of the bad guys he knew prowled the streets and lurked behind corners.  It was pieces of shit like Boris Sorlov who preyed upon women, and that dick Andre who liked to smack them around, that laid the foundation of his fear. Because for all that Pink thought she was a badass, she wasn’t.  Not even close.

Swiping his hand across his chin, Flynn chastised himself. Fear aside, she wasn’t a possession, she was a human being.  Damn it, he was falling hard for her.  That was a lie; he’d already fallen.  He was in deep emotional shit.

Shucking off his shirt, Flynn tossed it into the hamper in his bathroom, then grabbed a pair of flannel lounge pants.  Giving Pink a quick check, he headed downstairs, then to the garage, and grabbed her bag and his cell phone from the console.

Ignoring the fact that the sun would be rising in a couple of hours, Flynn checked his phone and scowled.

Messages from Maddox and Justin.

Justin’s were furious rants, calling him out for what he’d done to the Russian giant. Your inability to contain your temper has seriously jeopardized this operation.  Stand down or lose your shield.

Do what you gotta do, Barbieri, Flynn texted back.  But she’s done. Make your case without her. 

Maddox’s texts would be more of the same, but something told Flynn to read them.

Barbieri is heated and headhunting.  I’ve got your 6.  Would have done the same thing.

Flynn grunted and texted back.  Copy

Maddox immediately responded:  Did he tell you that we got a line on the missing person? And that the warrant came through?

Negative x 2

MP presumed alive and stateside.  

Details?

Will divulge on secure line. We want the UC to drop the drive tonight.

Negative 

Is that her stand as well?

Leave it alone.

The case dies w/o her 

Then bury it.  Gn

Flynn turned his cell off and as he strode back into the house, he stopped abruptly.  Pink stood at the end of the hallway in one of his white dress shirts looking sexy as hell. Halfway buttoned, he could make out the valley between her breasts; she’d rolled the French cuffs haphazardly, the tails hitting her knees. Her soft smile caught and held his heart.

“I’m hungry,” she said sheepishly.

Flynn’s stomach growled in agreement.  He hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before and that wasn’t much.  Having worked himself into a frenzy, he’d lost his appetite for everything except the woman standing before him.

Setting the bag down on the floor and his phone on the hall table, Flynn smiled and walked toward her.  He gathered her into his arms, reveling in her soft bubble gum scent.  “Me too.”

She pressed her lips to his chest.  “Hmm, I could snack on you first.”

His dick swelled. Giggling, Pink pressed her hips into him.  “You’re a walking hard-on.”

“I can’t help it, baby doll.  The body wants what the body wants.”

Looking up at him, she grinned.  It lit up her face.  His heart tightened.

Twenty minutes later, sitting side by side at the small table where they’d drunk coffee just days before, Izzy dove into a stack of fluffy banana pancakes.  Closing her eyes, she made a deep, satisfied sound as she slowly chewed.  The combination of the banana in the mix, butter, and maple syrup was orgasmic.

Izzy smiled and opened her eyes when warm lips brushed along her bottom lip, followed by a warm tongue.

“Mmm, you had some syrup on the edge of your lip,” Flynn whispered.  Pressing his lips to hers again, he opened her mouth and softly delved in with his tongue.  “You taste delicious.”

Izzy sighed against his lips.  Stabbing a piece of pancake with her fork she raised it to his lips and fed him.  They’d almost made it halfway through their stack, taking turns feeding each other, when Izzy set her fork down on the plate, eyeing Flynn’s full bottom lip. A drop of syrup lingered there.  Leaning into him, she licked it and said, “You missed a spot.”

“Hmm,” he murmured as he unbuttoned her shirt.  “I think…” He dipped his fingertip into the pool of syrup on her plate and drizzled it down her chest, then ran his fingertip along the high swells before circling each nipple.

Sliding the shirt down her shoulders to her elbows, fully exposing her breasts, Flynn smiled.  “I think,” he said, lowering his lips to one impudent nipple, “you need some help cleaning up the mess I just made.” As he slid his tongue along the trail of syrup, Izzy hissed, arching and leaning her head back, offering him all of her.