Page 53 of Crown of Smoke

I lay curled against Flynn's chest, his heartbeat steady under my ear. Our legs tangle in the sheets, and his fingers trace lazy patterns on my bare shoulder. This feels different from our previous encounters, slower, more tender, the desperate urgency replaced by something deeper. I wonder if he feels it too or if I’m being silly.

“I’m not complaining, but why do you always seduce me when I’m trying to get answers?”

He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple. "I need you to be safe.” There's something raw in his voice, and I wonder how hiding information from me keeps me safe.

I trace the lines of a tattoo on his chest, wondering about its meaning, about all the stories written on his skin that he hasn't shared. "Will you ever tell me who you really are?"

His muscles tense slightly under my fingertips. Instead of answering, he tips my chin up and kisses me with such tenderness my heart threatens to burst.

When he pulls back, I'm breathless again. "Flynn…"

"Shh." He strokes my cheek, and I lean into his touch. "Just stay here with me. Like this."

"I want to know you better," I whisper. "Not just physically. I mean really know you."

"I know you," he says, his voice rough. His hand slides down my bare back, leaving trails of heat. "I know how your breath catches when I touch you here." His fingers ghost across my ribs. "I know the sounds you make when you're close." He presses a kiss to my neck. "I know every inch of your body."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." But I can't help arching into his touch. "Though I can't deny you're very… thorough in that department."

His answering chuckle vibrates through his chest where I'm pressed against him. "Is that a complaint?"

"Definitely not." I prop myself up on an elbow to look at him properly. In the shadows, his blue eyes seem darker, more intense. "But there's so much more to you than this. I feel it every time we're together. Like you're holding part of yourself back."

I trace the outline of a particularly intricate tattoo on his bicep. "Tell me about your family."

Flynn's muscles tense under my fingertips. "Not much to tell."

"Everyone has a story." I press gently. "Are you from Boston?"

"Yes." His voice turns clipped.

"Brothers? Sisters?"

A shadow crosses his face. "Brothers."

"Are you close?"

"Very." His thumb strokes my hip in a way that threatens to derail my thoughts. "What about you? Tell me about growing up in… where was it?"

"Maine. Small town near Portland." I recognize his deflection but decide to play along. Maybe if I share first, he'll open up. "Me and my sister Kate, and Mom and Dad. Pretty normal family."

“Are you close?”

“Yes. My sister is super protective. You should have heard her lecture when I told her about the alley incident and the strange man who brought me to his home and tended my wound."

"Smart woman."

"Yeah. She thinks I'm crazy for pursuing this story." I glance up at him. "What do your brothers think about your undercover work?"

His jaw tightens. "They understand what needs to be done."

"And your parents?"

Flynn shifts, his body language screaming discomfort. "They're not in the picture anymore."

The pain in his voice stops me from pushing further, but my reporter's instincts are firing. There's something about the way he talks about his family. Like there’s loss and pain that have left scars. Were they victims of the Keans too?

His hands slide over my body again. His lips wrap around my nipple and suck.

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