Chapter 82
Anna
As I stared up at Flynn, I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. "You owe mewhat? Are you talking about the money?"
He gave me the ghost of a smile. "Do I need to say it?"
"Say what?"
"Fuck the money."
Probably, I should've seenthatcoming. But that didn't make the situation any less confusing. "Then what?" I asked.
"You name it, and it's yours."
"What's mine?"
"Whatever you want." His gaze met mine. "As long as it's me."
Woah.I did a double-take.Was he saying what I thought he was saying?
When I made no reply, he reached out and took both of my hands in his. "I don't hate you." He gave my fingers a tender squeeze. "I love you."
My breath caught.He did?
Like a total idiot, I glanced around, wondering if he was acting out for some unseen audience.
I tried to think.Maybe he thought the guys had left a recording device or something?
His voice, softer now, reclaimed my attention. "Is that so hard to believe?"
I gazed up at him. His eyes were warmer than I'd ever seen them, and I swear, my heart skipped a beat. "Um, well, I don't know."
"Right. And you know whose fault that is?"
"Whose?"
"Mine." He leaned a fraction closer. "I want to kiss you. And I don't mean for show."
My knees trembled, and my breath hitched. I wanted to be kissed.Holy hell, did I ever. Slowly, I felt myself nod.
When his lips closed on mine, I leaned into him, trying to reconcilethiskiss with the others before it.
They'd all been terrific in their own way, but now there was a new sweetness – and a new urgency – that I couldn’t ignore. Suddenly, I wanted to leave, and I didn't meanonlythe restroom.
Plus, why were we doing this here?I mean, talk about unsanitary.And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to pull away.
His lips were soft and warm, and oh-so perfect as his mouth moved against mine until I felt nearly too dizzy to stand.
If I fell would he catch me?
The answer came in an instant.Oh yeah. He would.In some ways, he'd been catching me for a while now.
The kiss was long and lingering. I couldn't say exactly how long it lasted, but Ididknow how it ended – with the sound of voices and the flash of a camera coming from the near the restroom's main door.
I pulled away and whirled to look. In the now-open doorway, at least a dozen faces stared back at us. One of those faces belonged to that Ronnie guy – the photographer who'd followed me into the steakhouse restroom, however many weeks ago.
Seriously, had he no shame?
