Virtuous(41)

I snap a leash on her and have to nearly drag her to the door, which is another first. She usually bounds for the door.

Flynn puts his KGB hat back on and follows at an understandable distance as we go downstairs. On the street, Fluff looks up at him, and the hat sends her into another fit of rage.

“I think she’s afraid you’re wearing one of her relatives on your head.”

He laughs and takes hold of my free hand.

I love the easy, casual way he does that, as if we’ve been holding hands forever. It feels natural to me, like my hand belongs wrapped up in his. It’s absolutely freezing, so we stay out only long enough for Fluff to do her business.

Flynn takes the plastic bag from me and cleans up after her.

“That’s way above and beyond the call of duty in light of her treatment of you.”

“I like to think I’m a gentleman toward all women, even the shrewish ones.”

He’s got the market cornered on charm, that’s for sure. Because I can’t stop laughing at the hat, he playfully refuses to go out with me, so we end up ordering Thai and having it delivered. That’s more than fine with me since I’ve had enough of the icy cold. Other than Fluff’s continuing hostility toward Flynn, we have a great night together, but the whole time we’re on the sofa watching mindless TV, I’m thinking about kissing him and wondering if it will happen again.

How have I gone from wanting no man to touch me again—ever—to wanting this man with a fervor that surprises and astounds me? It’s like the last eight years never happened and I’m back to being who I was before my life was shattered. Is it possible that I’ve actually recovered, finally, and can entertain the possibility of true intimacy with a man?

Since that thought never would’ve occurred to me before I met Flynn, I decide to table it until I can pick it apart when I’m alone later. Having him curled up next to me requires my full attention.

By ten thirty, I’m trying not to yawn. I’m usually in bed by ten because my alarm goes off at five, and I need every minute of those seven hours of sleep to function the next day. But I don’t want this time with him to end.

“What time do you have to get up tomorrow?” he asks.

I wonder if he’s a mind reader in addition to his many other attributes. “Five.”

“Ugh, that’s brutal. How do you do that?”

“Well, it all begins with an alarm clock.”

“Smart-ass. You know what I mean.”

“Don’t you have early days when you’re filming?”

“Yeah, but I always know there’s an end in sight.”

“So do I. It’s called summer vacation, when I sleep until noon as often as I possibly can.”

“Now you’re talking my language.”

“You like to sleep in?”

“I love to sleep in. While you’re slogging to work in the morning, think of me sleeping until noon.”

“That’s just mean.” My imagination immediately leaps to what he must look like in the morning, all sleep-rumpled and sexy with stubble on his jaw and his hair standing on end. I nearly sigh from the power of my imaginings.

“I’ll let you sleep until noon at least one day in LA.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.” He looks over at me. “I should go so you can get some sleep. Something tells me those third-graders won’t show much mercy to a tired Miss Bryant tomorrow.”

“They’ll take full advantage.”

His fingers trace the outline of my jaw before he leans in to kiss me. The moment his lips touch mine, I forget all about early wake-ups and third-graders. Nothing matters more than the heat that blasts through my body. My powerful reaction to him should frighten me, but rather than push him away, I pull him closer. That seems to trigger something for him, and the kiss becomes more demanding.

We both ignore the low growl from Fluff, who’d been asleep on the floor until Flynn got too close to me for her liking.

He wraps his arm around me and brings me closer to him. Carried away by the desire and the heat, I open my mouth to his tongue and discover I’ve only experienced the beginning of what he’s capable of making me feel.

“Jesus, Natalie,” he whispers harshly. His jaw pulses with tension as he leans his forehead against mine. He’s breathing heavily. “I should go.”

I want to beg him to stay, to kiss me again, to make me feel this way for a little while longer. But his hands fall away from my face, and he withdraws from me, which seems to pain him. I know I must look as shell-shocked as I feel.