Page 18 of Sins of a King

“I know,” came Brad’s reply.

“Oh, right. Head of security thing.”

He didn’t reply, but he shot me a smile that rearranged the features of his face and made him seem approachable and less scary.

The doors of the elevator opened, and I stepped out into Flynn’s penthouse living room. He was standing by the open drapes, staring at the tree-lined park. He didn’t acknowledge I was there, so I was able to take a moment and study him. The elevator doors chimed, signaling that Brad had left.

When we stood in silence with no hint that Flynn was going to speak, I ventured out, “You wanted to see me?”

Flynn turned. I hadn’t known what to expect—anger, coldness. Not hunger. Raw, naked, unabashed hunger. He stalked toward me and cradled my face in his large hands.

I looked up at him and my purse slipped from my finger to hit the floor with a gentle thud. My eyes widened, and a slight sound escaped me—nothing more than a quick inhalation.

His gaze searched my face, and then his lips met mine.

Possessive. Heat.

His tongue invaded my mouth. I opened to him, and his hands dropped from my face and slid down the length of my body, pulling me into him. I was pressed up against the wall of his chest, my stomach fluttery.

Abruptly, he tore his lips from mine and took a step back. We both were breathing hard, and the last thing I wanted was distance. I tried to go to him, but he held up a hand.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped.

“For what?”

“For kissing you. That’s not why I called you up here.”

My thoughts pinged around in my head as I tried to clear the wave of lust still surging through my veins. I attempted to focus on his face, but my eyes dipped to his taut body. What would it feel like to have my hands on the bare skin of his back while he moved inside me?

I swallowed.

“So why did you call me up here?” I demanded.

“I don’t remember anymore.”

“What are we doing?” I whispered.

“I lost my head. In the club.” His jaw clenched. “I saw a man put his hand on you, and before I knew it, I was out of the booth and—”

“And ready to break a few fingers?”

“Did that scare you? DidIscare you?”

I thought for a moment before shaking my head. “No, I don’t think so. I was scared—for that guy. You would’ve hurt him. For me.”

“Aye.”

The finality of that word had me sucking in a breath. “Chelsea saw and said that when stuff like this happens, it’s usually security that escorts them out, not the owner of the club.”

“I was closer.”

“Flynn,” I murmured.

“Don’t,” he said harshly. “Don’t say my name. And don’t say it in that breathy voice or look at me with those doe eyes.”

“Why?” I asked, taking a small step closer to him like I would toward a frightened, feral animal. The similarities weren’t lost on me. Flynn looked cagey, wary.

“You know why,” he stated.