Page 39 of Reckless Hearts

“Me being able to touch you whenever I want,” I say as I slowly trail a finger along her collarbone. “And you being able to touch me,” I add, dragging my finger down her arm to her hand before lifting it and pressing it flat against my chest. “Being able to kiss you,” I whisper, closing the distance, my mouth hovering over hers, not touching, not kissing, but almost. I know if I start, if I do kiss her, I’m not going to be able to stop, especially out here with no one around.

“Flynn…” she moans, my name barely audible.

“I know,” I whisper, brushing my nose along hers, our lips still not touching. “I’m just telling you what I wish this could be.”

She smiles, huffing out a breath. “So that’s it, touching and kissing.”

With a laugh, I pull back slightly, dragging my hand back up her arm and curling it around the back of her neck. “No, that’s definitely not it.”

“So what else?” she asks, smiling up at me.

“Oh, there’d definitely be fucking involved too. Lots of fucking.”

“And?” she prompts.

“Eating you out.”

“And?”

“And,” I whisper, closing the distance as I lean in and put my mouth against her ear. “Anything you fucking wanted, Alana.”

It’s earlywhen my alarm goes off, and my first thought is if Flynn will be there again this morning. I have no idea how we walked away from each other yesterday after that conversation. My body is still reeling with pent-up frustration and need. It’s out of control how much this guy and his words can affect me. Every single thing he says sounds like sex, and I dream about it on the regular.

I pull myself from the bed, not really wanting to train this morning, but knowing I have to. I’m on my own today too since Daisy is helping Nate get things ready for the kids’ surf competition, and Sloane has an early class and then work.

My only hope is that Flynn is there, but it’s early enough that I don’t blame him if he’s not. He has nothing to train for and getting up at the crack of dawn to run sounds like a nightmare.

Grabbing a sports bra, I shimmy into it, and then pull on a pair of shorts before heading out into the kitchen to fill my water bottle. It’s going to be the same thing every day: train, work, eat, sleep. But I have to say, I love being back at it, missing it more than I realized.

As soon as I have my water bottle filled, I quickly brush my teeth and head out the door, hoping I haven’t woken Daisy or Sloane. I always try to be as quiet as possible, but it’s a small house, and it feels like any noise is loud at this hour.

But they don’t wake up, and I back out of the driveway, heading for the falls. It’s the best place to run, quiet and empty in the mornings, but as the day drags on, it becomes a huge tourist location. I usually have a good two or three hours before I ever see another person, and that’s exactly how I like it.

As soon as I pull off the road, I let out a chuckle.

There’s Flynn, leaning against his car, obviously waiting for me.

His legs are crossed, his arms folded over his chest, already not wearing a T-shirt, and he has these abs like artwork, sculpted and perfect.

Here I am, exhaling hard, trying to remind myself how much we could fuck everything up, and we’re already walking a fine line by him being here.

It’s early enough, though, that no one is out, and that’s what keeps me from telling him he should go. It’s not the only thing. Those fucking abs and his striking blue eyes, and the way he says my name, and the way his body moves when he surfs and how comfortable I feel around him.

Fuck my life.

Again.

And again.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says the second I’m out of the car, and I laugh. He couldn’t be any cuter with his fake surprise, just like he responded yesterday.

“Yeah, who would have thought?” I play back, smiling at him, and when we start our way toward the path, his hand presses into the small of my back.

It’s a simple gesture, something that Nate has done before, hell, even most of the guys at the shop have done it, but with Flynn, it feels like heaven. Like his hand was made to fit there, warm and comforting.

“What’s the plan today?” he now asks, his hand dropping, leaving me wanting to beg him to put it back. “You upping the distance yet?”

“Not just yet. It’s only been a couple of days and I don’t want to push it too much,” I respond back, and this is a normal conversation. It’s the kind we should be having or maybe we shouldn’t. I don’t even know anymore.

---