Page 131 of The Muse
“No,” Flynn says.
“Would you like a king room or two queens?”
“We probably won’t make it past the elevator, but just in case, let’s do a king room,” Flynn says.
I giggle, nibbling at his earlobe.
“Driver’s license,” the guy says.
Flynn hands him his credit card and driver’s license. The guy gets us keys to the room in record time, probably to get our PDA out of the lobby.
We step into the elevator, and he drops my bag at his feet and buries his fingers in my hair and tongue in my mouth, pushing me against the back wall, his leg wedged between mine.
Our needy hands don’t let go.
Not down the hallway.
Not in the hotel room.
Not when we reach the bed.
I sit on the edge with him standing in front of me. He pulls off my dress and I unbutton his pants.
Shirt.
Underwear.
“Oh god …” I arch my back as he sinks into me, pushing my hands above my head.
He dips his head, trapping my nipple between his teeth, and I moan.
“Flynn …”
He grins before doing it to my other nipple. It sends an intense, electric sensation straight between my legs.
“Zoya,” he whispers over my lips.
I press my palms to his face to stop him before he kisses me. “Say it again.” I brush my thumb over his bottom lip.
Flynn grins, rocking his hips with mine. “Zoya … Juju … June … Malone.” He kisses me, swallowing my giggle.
This man owns my heart, all its pieces, the fragile cracks, and every single beat. Grandma Juni thinks music will always be my first love, but she’s wrong.
June, I don’t want you to fit into my world. I want you to be my world.
I will replay his words in my head for the rest of my life.
He rolls us over, hands sliding down my back to my ass. I sit up, and he does too. When he curls my hair behind my ears before kissing me, I get a little emotional. This love isso big.
“I love you. I love you. I love you,” I repeat, kissing Flynn’s face, neck, and chest, early the next morning.
He chuckles. “I don’t know what’s happening, but don’t stop. In fact, go a little lower.”
I grin, shimmying myself on top of him so our faces are hidden under my hair. “I’m making up for all the times someone should have said ‘I love you’ but didn’t.”
He gets a funny look with some tension along his brow.
“What?” I ask.
