“Hungry?” he asked against her skin.
“If I can make myself get up, I could be hungry. It’s hard to tell right now.”
He ran his hand over her flank, giving her ass a pat. “You’re solely responsible for my ego boost after this, doll.”
“What can I say? You fucked me so good I’m nothing but a pile of flesh and bones.”
“How do you make everything sound so dirty?”
Bristowe yawned. “That’s not me, that’s your deviant mind.”
“Ah, maybe it is.”
It was easy to snuggle up, to rest in the embrace of encroaching darkness with her lover. Simple to pretend it was nothing more than sex.
Her brain repeated the words, but her heart knew better. When he was ready to move on, she’d be left holding the broken pieces in her hands. But while she had him, she would make it count. Something told her he’d never known someone to put any effort into loving him. The boys he talked about relied on him, and the foster parents cared. It simply wasn't the same. So she would be the one to show him, even if she couldn't say the words. And she’d take what she could get, hoping it would outlast the summer.
Chapter Six
Flynn couldn't rememberever feeling so satisfied before. It wasn't merely work, sleep, brothers, repeat. It was . . .more, in a way he couldn't define. A large part of his brain told him he knew why, but he mercilessly told that part to shut the fuck up. Yes, he enjoyed Bristowe immensely. That meant nothing.
If there was laughter in his head every time he reiterated that, so be it.
The two of them had managed to get up long enough to order in, eat in bed, and fall asleep together. He’d intended to fuck her out of his system, underestimating how tired he was. It was extremely unusual for him to allow himself to fall asleep in a relative stranger’s presence. One thing he never did was stay over. Rule number one; never let your guard down.
And yet, with her, he broke his rules. Repeatedly. She’d confessed to watching him sleep for a little while before she slept herself. It didn't bother him the way he expected. He’d sat there waiting for the feelings of outrage to come, but they hadn’t.
Instead, they said goodbye at an ungodly hour, so he could go home long enough to shower and dress for work. Long days in the blistering sun meant he had no time to himself, which he was positive would spell disaster for whatever this was that continued to build between them.
When he had some free time, though, he headed over to Mercy House. He needed to know how the meeting with the Wilsons had gone, since Fischer wasn't allowed to have a cell phone. Flynn had texted Lock about it and only gotten a few half-assed sentences about it going fine.
That reminded him that Lock’s birthday was coming up soon, and he’d have to talk with him. There was only one bedroom in his apartment, and the couch wasn't the biggest or most comfortable, but he understood Lock would be itching to get the fuck out of the foster house the same day he aged out. Nothing against Barb or Mitch; it was just how it went.
Brooks answered the door, a skateboard under one arm. “Hey, Flynn. Slummin’ it today?”
Flynn snorted. “Is that what we call it now?”
