“I don’t think my mom owns a Sharpie, but she’s always had plenty of peanut butter on hand,” she said. “And my dad, he’s . . .” She stopped there, uncertain what to say. An asshole? Dying? Threatening to come to Providence? “He’s not very handy when it comes to the house,” she said quickly, and glanced at her hands, now stained hideously purple with iodine. “Wow. It looks worse now than before.”
“There’s one last thing,” Flynn said, and took her right hand, held it in his palm as he examined five small but deep scratches on the back of her hand. He lifted her hand, leaned over, and touched his lips to her fingers. “It’s always recommended to seal the cuts with a kiss, or, in the case of a prodigious use of iodine, as close to the cuts as one can possibly get.” He kissed her palm. And then her wrist, his mouth casually surrounding her pulse, his lips lingering like gossamer clouds on her skin.
A conflagration of pure lust erupted in her, searing her from top to bottom. She sucked in a cool breath, and Flynn lifted his head, gave her a languidly scorching smile as he took her other hand and turned it over, to the scratch on her wrist.
“All those passions bubbling in you,” he said softly. “Cats and history and art. One can’t help but wonder how a woman like yourself releases the steam of it all.”
“A woman like me can’t help but wonder the same thing,” she said as she gazed at his gorgeous, lush mouth.
“I had every intention of ringing you up, you know,” he muttered softly. “But time ran away from me.”
“Oh,” she breathed, as he pressed his lips to a soft patch of skin directly above the scratch on her wrist.
“I’ve been rather swamped with work lately, working long hours,” he added, before touching his lips to another spot on her wrist, and lingering there, his mouth warm and wet.
“Oooh . . .” she whispered as he slowly and calmly and expertly moved his lips up her wrist, to her arm and her elbow, lightly drawing the flesh in between his teeth, nibbling her skin as if it was some delicacy. “But I’ll not make the same mistake again.”
Rachel stood there, rooted to her spot, her mind gone to mush, aware of nothing but his mouth and his body.
He kept moving, up the bunched fabric of the sweater she had pushed up over her elbow, his breath seeping hot through the sweater, moving up, until his mouth was at her neck.
“Oh Jesus,” she whispered as she bent her head to one side to accommodate him. He laughed somewhere deep in his chest and slowly devoured her neck, caressing the skin with his lips and tongue. His hands landed on her waist and pulled her to him; she could feel the start of an impressive erection in his pants and thought, with a violent shiver, that all the passions bubbling inside her might burst prematurely, all over his pristine kitchen.
“You smell wonderful,” he whispered as he casually moved to her earlobe, taking it in between his teeth. “A bit like vanilla.”
This cannot be happening. This can so not be happening, she thought wildly as she leaned her head to the side and back, silently willing him to cover every inch of her with his mouth. Every inch of her, and she didn’t give a damn how bloated she was, for at the moment she felt incredibly sexy.
He drew her earlobe into his mouth, as well as her dangling earring, while his tongue languidly flicked about her lobe. His hands moved slowly up her sides, to the sides of her breasts and gently pressed against them, and around them, cupping them.
A sigh of pure longing escaped her, and Flynn moved his mouth from her ear, letting the earring fall from his mouth and swing, wet, against her skin, as his lips left a warm, damp trail across the skin of her cheek. “Did you know,” he murmured, “that in some cultures, a kiss is considered an exchange of souls?”
“No.” His tongue flicked into the corner of her lips, leaving a stunning sensation behind.
“And did you know that there are those who believe the scent of a woman’s skin is more arousing than the touch of it?” he asked, nipping her bottom lip.
Rachel never had the chance to answer, because his tongue slid inside her mouth. She knew nothing after that, only that her hands had found his neck and shoulders, and that his hands had slipped beneath her sweater, sliding over her bare skin, to her breasts, pressing and kneading in rhythm to his lips and tongue. She felt herself on a slippery slope, only moments away from sliding onto the kitchen floor and taking him down with her, to be on top of her. His attentions to her body had turned molten in her groin; there was a wetness building between her legs that made her ache with desire, and her skin felt almost as if it was shimmering beneath her clothing.
Flynn eased her back against the countertop and remarkably, slipped one hand beneath her tight skirt as he continued to kiss her. He easily pushed her skirt up, until his hand was on her hip. His fingers sank into her flesh so that he was gripping her, holding her against his cock, moving suggestively against her while the intensity of his kiss deepened.