Last night, I went to sleep thinking of Flynn and all the kind things he has done for Capone and me. Sometime in the early morning hours, I had a dream about him. I don’t remember the full details, but I know he had my naked body pressed down into the mattress of my bed and he was worshiping me with just his lips. There were no other details in the dream. Just Flynn, the mattress, and me… and soon the mattress faded away from my thoughts. Then it was just Flynn and what he was doing to me.
In my dream, he never touched my breasts or between my legs. But he paid exquisite care to every other part of my body. The longer he touched me, the more skin that his lips grazed, the more I felt the pressure building inside of me.
And with just a light kiss behind my knee, I had an orgasm so powerful that I came out of my sleep, sitting straight up in bed while spasms rocketed through my body. When I came fully awake and understood what happened, my body was drenched in sweat and my chest was heaving. Poor Capone was standing at the foot of my bed, watching me with curiosity. My covers were kicked to the floor and I can only imagine what I must have been doing in my sleep. I could only hope that I had not been making any sounds that Flynn could hear.
I sat there in my bed until my heart rate returned to normal and my breathing became steady. Knowing there was no going back to sleep after that dream, I decided to jump in the shower before Flynn got up.
I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around me. After wiping the steam from the mirror, I lean in close and take a good look at my face. The dark circles that seemed to have been ingrained into the skin beneath my eyes have finally disappeared. That’s merely a testament to the good food and sleep I’ve had the past three nights that I’ve been here.
All thanks to my new friend, Flynn Caldwell.
Perhaps, my first true friend.
You know... the one that gives me orgasms in my dreams.
Some who know me would say, And why is this really a problem, Rowan? Geez... jump on that shit!
I’ll tell you why it’s a problem.
I don’t want to lose Flynn Caldwell as my friend.
Because no matter how unbelievably sexy Flynn is... no matter how great I know he would be in bed... everything will change between us if sex is involved.
I just know it.
Up until this point in my life, sex has been a tool for me. It’s been a stress reliever, and sometimes I’ve used it to get what I want. It was always so easy to manipulate Juice early on in our relationship with sex. I could diffuse his anger toward me with just a look, and even now, I’m a little ashamed I would resort to such tactics.
But with Flynn?
Sex with him will be something entirely different. It will open up a new level of intimacy that I don’t think my cynicism will be able to handle. He has the ability to undo the entire basis of my existence for the past five years, and I don’t think I’m ready to let go of the safety net that my walls provide me.
I search my own eyes in the bathroom mirror. They look back at me and tell me I’m a fool for thinking such things. They taunt me with the knowledge that a friendship with Flynn will never be as ultimately satisfying as a love affair with him.
I close my eyes and tell myself to shut the fuck up.
I say a tiny prayer of thanks that Flynn Caldwell is my friend and that he was brought into my life.
I need to be content with friendship and leave it at that.
Walking into the kitchen, I try to mentally prepare myself for how to deal with Flynn today. I tell myself I will not engage in flirting and that I will find a way to strengthen the new friendship that we have.
Now that I have a taste of what it feels like, I want to cultivate it further.
Without annoying, sexy thoughts getting in my way.
Flynn is leaning back against the counter, drinking a glass of water. He’s dressed in a pair of shorts, a gray t-shirt that is soaked with sweat, and running shoes. His face glistens with moisture and his hair is sticking up in a thousand different directions.
I try not to notice the way his bicep bulges when his arm curls upward to bring the glass to his lips.
Or the way his lips rest softly against the glass.
Or the way his throat moves as he swallows.
I have to restrain myself from walking to the refrigerator and slamming my forehead into it so these thoughts will go away. Instead, I walk to the coffee pot and pour myself a cup.
“You’re up early,” he observes.
I pull the milk out and add a splash to my cup. “So are you. Already went for a run?”
“Yeah. I had strange dreams last night and just couldn’t get into a good sleep.”
“You and me both,” I mutter.
“Mine were crazy... I was at a party with Eminem and Prince Charles and they were arguing over how to make the chicken potpie that we were eating. That was the one that woke me up.” He flashes me a dimpled smile. “What were yours about?”
I almost choke on the coffee I’m drinking but I’m able to force the hot liquid down the right pipe. “I don’t remember. I’m sure nothing important.”
Finishing off his water, he lays the glass in the sink. “I’ll take Capone out for you before I hop into the shower.”
Oh, God. Thoughts of him in the shower cause my mind to burst with color for just a moment, but then I shake myself back to reality. “No need. I took him out and fed him before I had my shower.”
His eyebrows rise. “Wow. You were up really early. Must have been some dream.”
If only he knew.
“So, what are your plans on your last day before heading back to work? I’ll finish up your laundry for you.”
“Rowan,” Flynn says, his tone only slightly chiding. “You don’t have to do my laundry.”
The old Rowan... the one who, just three days ago, would have torn into Flynn for that, doesn’t make an appearance. The new Rowan... the one that wants to build this friendship with Flynn, handles it just a bit differently.
“Yes, I do.” I smile at him but my tone is firm. “You promised you’d let me earn my keep until I could get a job.”
Holding his hands up in surrender, he says, “Fine. Have at it. Just don’t starch my underwear.”
I snicker. That would be a good prank to play on him, and that makes me snicker even more, because the old Rowan didn’t pull pranks or joke around.
“What’s so funny?”
Shaking my head and trying to wipe the smile from my face, I take another sip of coffee. “Nothing. But no starch in the underwear, I promise.”
Flynn shrugs his shoulders and pushes away from the counter. He walks up to me and stands very close... just staring down. My breath hitches and I fight hard to hold his gaze. He does nothing more than raise a hand to tuck my hair behind my ear, and the light touch of his fingertips on my skin almost causes me to convulse.
I take a quick step back, enough to put room between his overwhelming closeness. His hand drops and he also takes a step back, looking embarrassed. I’m equally hot in the face, because that wasn’t casual flirting. That was a moment of tenderness that scares the crap out of me and makes me yearn at the same time.
Clearing his throat, he says, “Actually... I was thinking about going to the movies today. Are you interested?”
I mentally calculate the money I have left. After buying clothes, a cell phone, some toiletries and groceries that Flynn chewed me out for buying, I have $283.00 left to my name. I put in applications to a few of the businesses around Flynn’s apartment, but no one has invited me to an interview yet. I need to take care of the few bucks I have left and I need to find a way to earn money so I can pay my own way.