“Let’s get dressed.” I kiss the back of her head before I pull out of her slowly, her soft little gasp hitting straight to my spine.
“Well, now I need another shower or I’ll be dripping—” She stops, narrows those eyes at me, and points between her legs. “Little Flynns all night.”
A laugh punches out of me, real, loud, the kind that feels like it belongs to a man who actually has something to live for. “Little Flynns?” Iswipe a towel over myself, pull on my boxers. “Would you like a little Flynn inside your belly?”
The thought hits harder than it should.
Perfect. A fucking breeding kink. Exactly what I needed tonight.
She rolls her eyes and disappears into the bathroom. If this weren’t a dangerous night, if I weren’t walking into a room full of men who’d love to see me bleeding, I’d make her drip me down her thighs, shove a plug inside her to keep every drop exactly where it belongs.
I rub my face. Christ. I’m always hard when she’s near me.
The black suit feels like armour as I slide it over my shoulders. I pull my hair back, everything dark, black shirt, black jacket, black tie. A shadow among shadows. I look down at the gold ring on my finger. The idea of losing her claws into me, and for the first time since my father died, something cold curls through my chest.
Fear.
“How do I look?” her voice calls from the doorway.
I lift my head, and my heart stops. My cock does the opposite.
“Fuck,” I growl.
Autumn stands there in a black dress that looks like sin tailored for one woman. Tight over her breasts and waist, the sides open at her hips, and a slit climbs her thigh like an invitation. Black heels that turn her legs into a weapon. Her hair curled to one side, sliding down her shoulder. Dark eyes, red lips—all of it made to ruin men.
“So?” she asks softly.
“So—” I step toward her but force myself to stop inches away. “We need to leave this room now, or I’ll pin you against the wall and give you morelittle Flynnsbefore we make it to the hallway. And Declan will kill me if I skip this dinner.”
I grab my phone, open the drawer, and see her camera there. I grab and tuck my gun behind my back. The motion is automatic. Natural. Butwhen I look at her again, she’s staring at me like she’s never seen me hold a weapon, like the sight of it hits somewhere deep.
Her lips part.
Her eyes widen, and just like that, I’m hard again.
“Sorry.” I shake my head and pull the gun forward. When she sees it, she steps in close and runs her fingertips over the cold steel.
“You’ve ever held a gun?”
She shakes her head, eyes wide.
I let her take it, moving behind her, lifting her hands with mine wrapped around them.
“Press here to take the safety off, then aim and shoot.” I murmur against her ear, feeling the tremble in her fingers.
“I don’t—” She stops, breath catching, and pushes the gun back into my hands.
“I know,” I say softly, kissing her forehead. “But you should at least know how to use one. I’ll teach you.”
She just stares at me, something warm and uncertain in her eyes.
We leave the room, take the elevator down.
“You brought your camera to the hotel,” I say as the elevator goes down.
“It’s a comfort thing.” She whispers.
We walk into the hotel restaurant reserved just for us. My men. Declan’s men. Russians stationed around the walls like silent statues.
