Page 36 of Praised
“We’ve spent more than one night together,” he said.
“This feels like if you did it, it reads possessive and sexy, but if my broke ass did it, it would be stalking and I’d end up in jail.”
“I’d never press charges.” He drew an X across his heart.
“Your chivalry is commendable.” I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Do you work today?”
Flynn gestured toward the earbud he’d tossed onto the counter after his call. “I already am.”
“Do you need me to get out of your hair?”
“I much prefer you in it.” He pushed away from the counter and headed toward one of the giant windows. “Do you want to sit outside awhile? It’s not too warm yet.”
As he approached, one of the giant plates of glass slid open and he stepped onto the concrete pad that led to the sparkling blue pool in the middle of the yard. He hadn’t been wrong the night before when he told me he had more money than sense, but I hopped off the counter anyway and followed him out.
Much like the rest of his house, the back yard lacked any personality or defining features. His patio furniture had white cushions so clean I doubted he’d ever used them at all. But he sat down and I sat down beside him.
This was awkward. The daylight, the silence, the residual cum, all of it.
“Can we talk?” I asked, stretching my legs out in front of me.
The yard was made up of concrete pads with green grass between them and I tried to reach my toes to the bright green blades, but they were too finely manicured for me to get close.
“About something in particular?” He stood up and, without warning, dragged my chair closer to the edge of the pad. My toes immediately sank into the grass.
“About this,” I said. “About what’s happening with us.”
“What’s happening with us,” he repeated.
“Please don’t play daft.” I sighed and leaned against the back of the chair. Even with the cushions, it was rigid and uncomfortable. Lying on the concrete would have offered more flexibility.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“I just broke up with my boyfriend the night I met you,” I explained. The man had already been inside of me, sharing the truth about where I was at mentally was the least I could do. I wanted us both to go into whatever this was with open minds and complete awareness. “He cheated on me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault,” I said quickly, more reflex at this point than anything else.
“You still didn’t deserve that.”
“How do you know?”
Flynn huffed and shrugged. “Did you deserve it?”
“No.”
“That’s how I know,” he said.
His arrogance was obscenely sexy and I wanted to hate him for it, but that felt unfair. I wasn’t under the impression that his attitude was something he had much control over. He was confident and cocky, but in that smooth way that turned you on instead of off. He’d basically won the personality lottery, if not the interior decorating one.
“We need to talk about you,” I admitted.
Flynn had occupied the majority of my thoughts for the better part of the past week, whether it was decent or indecent. And I’d spent more time than I’d want to admit to thinking about some of the things he’d hinted around in the moments we’d been together.
“Is it the stalking?” He grinned at me, teeth white and straight and perfect.
“You said that was just being resourceful,” I reminded him.
