Page 62 of Reckless Hearts

I grind against him, seeking friction, but I know we need to pull ourselves together. We can’t stay in bed all day, even if that’s what we want to do—disappear from the world, forget anyone else exists, and just be together.

“What are you doing?” I murmur, my mouth next to his ear, my tongue slipping out to trace the shell of it. “You’re making me wet, and then you’re going to leave me all hot and bothered for another woman.” He knows I’m teasing him, a smile tugging at his lips.

“She’s not even in the same category as you, Alana. Fuck, not even in the same universe,” he growls, his hands gripping my hips roughly before sliding up my body.

He wraps his hand around my neck, watching as I wet my lips, desperate to feel him inside me, but we need to get out of this bed.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he all but demands as his grip on my throat tightens deliciously. “Sleep in my bed. Let me eat your pussy for brekkie.”

“Yes,” I moan out in response. “But stop talking like that or I’m dropping out of Pipe and quitting my job and spending the rest of my life as your sex slave.”

Flynn lets out a deep, throaty chuckle, his head falling back. “That doesn’t sound all that terrible. I’d be happy to take care of you. But tell me, what is it that you want me to stop saying?”

He’s playful and cute, his blue eyes sparkling with lust and sweetness. I don’t know how he can go from being the guy whotalks dirty to me, setting my body on fire, to someone who is so sweet he’s like sugar on my tongue.

“Things like ‘lolly’ and ‘brekkie’ and ‘Alana’,” I tell him, giggling when he pinches my side, tickling me a little.

“Your name?” he questions, his brows pulled together in curiosity.

“Yes, my name. It’s the hottest fucking thing out of your mouth.”

“Damn right it is,” he responds, and we’re right back to where we started, trying to leave this bed, but failing miserably as his hands snake up my body.

My phone goes off again, and it feels like it’s louder this time, moving across the nightstand a few more inches each time it sounds.

“Do you need to get that?” Flynn asks, and I shake my head. “You sure? It’s been going off all morning. An emergency?”

“What? The Pipe Dream ran out of wetsuits? It’s fine,” I say, but I realize I haven’t told him that the girls know about us.

He laughs at my joke, pushing up on his elbows. He looks over me at the nightstand, my phone lighting up like the Fourth of July.

“I told the girls about us last night,” I admit, and I watch his face for a reaction. “It’s just them checking in. Or should I say, looking for the gossip. Don’t worry, I swore them to secrecy.”

“I’m not worried, Alana. I really don’t care who finds out,” he asserts, but I’m not entirely sure that’s true.

We both know it could ruin our careers. But could it? We aren’t doing anything that relates to surfing, and we certainly are not talking about Jade and her training schedule. I couldn’t give a fuck about Jade.

“The guys don’t know, though. I swear they have bigger mouths than the girls,” I joke, leaving it up to him to tell the guys if he wants.

“That’s probably true.”

Just as he says it, his phone starts to ring. Letting out a hard sigh, he rolls his eyes and reaches for it.

Jade’s name pops up on the screen, a picture of her surfing, and my heart clenches a little. I don’t know why, but a tinge of jealousy looms, and I hate it.

“I gotta take this,” he mutters. “I’ve been avoiding her for too long, and I really don’t want to deal with her wrath if I keep doing it.”

“Go ahead. She is your employer. I wouldn’t ignore Nate if he called me.” But I know that isn’t true. I would ignore Nate. I do it all the time and he gets all fired up, but is quick to forgive me when I get payroll done before he can get to it or I order popular items he doesn’t even know exist.

Something tells me Jade isn’t so forgiving.

“I’ll leave,” I mouth, and he shakes his head, the phone now to his ear. I can already hear Jade jawing on about something.

It’s muffled, and I watch as Flynn closes his eyes, letting Jade lay into him. Her words are shrill, and I have no idea how he keeps doing this. There have to be other surfers out there who are interested in hiring him. Ones that aren’t so fucking needy.

I climb from the bed, grabbing my underwear off the floor. I pull them on, along with a T-shirt of Flynn’s that is flung over a chair in the corner of the room.

He shakes his head at me, his eyes narrowed, and I have to laugh. Me getting dressed has pissed him off, and there’s something funny about that.

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