Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Scratch that–I love it.
I needed Flynn to be easy-going and non-threatening before. Now I need the passion. I want to know it’s me he wants. That I turn him on. That I’m not replaceable.
Except I am replaceable, aren’t I? I set this whole thing up that way.
“I wouldn’t want anyone to see you in just your underwear, either.” He traces the tip of his finger along the waistband of my panties, making my tummy shiver at his touch.
He kisses me again, this time gripping a handful of my ass and squeezing. My erect nipples rub against his ribs, and moisture slicks my lady parts again.
“How badly do you want to see the burlesque show?” Flynn asks between kisses. “Because I could skip dinner and just eat you again.”
It sounds heavenly, but I want both. I gently push him away, and he immediately backs off–ever respectful. “I want to go,” I tell him.
“Then we’ll go,” he says easily.
“I haven’t been out in so long, and you make it all feel possible. Not just possible—fun.”
“It will be fun.” He stoops to pick up my pants and tosses them my way.
“Plus, I want the dancers to take me seriously. I already have ideas for their costumes.”
“Trust me–they will be overjoyed to have your help. Artists jump at the chance to get something for free. We’re always starving, you know.” He winks at me.
“Are you?” I stop, shocked. I didn’t know.
“No, no, no. It’s cool. We’re starting to make money, actually, which I never expected.”
“But not a lot.” I suddenly want to help him, too. I have that money from Kat’s dad. Maybe I could put it to good use with him and the band.
“The point was never to make money.” There’s a line between Flynn’s brows I don’t like seeing.
“But wouldn’t it be great if you did?” I challenge. Something about his self-deprecation that feels wrong here.
He shrugs. “I don’t want to chase fame.” He holds my jacket out for me, like a gentleman. I didn’t even know boys our age knew how to do that. I try to resist the yearning kicking up inside me. The desire to have Flynn for keeps. For always.
It’s not going to happen, and I shouldn’t start wanting it now. Instead I press him on the fame issue. “Why not?”
He puts his jacket on, picks up his phone and keys and leads me out of the apartment. “My dad was always waiting to get discovered, and then one day, he just became kind of bitter, you know? I never wanted to be like that. The Storytellers are for fun. Because I can’t live without music. And it is my livelihood, too, but…”
I peer up at him as we go down the stairs. “You can’t avoid dreams just because you’re afraid they won’t come true,” I tell him. I see his customary smile fade, and I’m sorry I’m the one who dimmed his light. “Sorry,” I say when he doesn’t answer.
“No, it’s cool. I see what you mean. I’m just not sure I want to go that route.”
“The having dreams route?”
“Yeah.”
“What if you’re pushing away success right now just because you’re afraid of it?” I sound like some kind of life coach–which isn’t me, but it just seems too clear that’s what he’s doing. I’ve been working with a therapist for months now–I guess she’s starting to rub off on me.
Flynn stops on the sidewalk outside and loops an arm behind my back. He draws me up against him. Our breaths mingle in the cold air. “You make me want to believe,” he murmurs and kisses me.
“I believe anything’s possible when I’m with you,” I whisper back.
CHAPTER 8
Nadia
I’m in love. I want to be a burlesque dancer. They are everything.
I watch the way the women hold their own on the stage. They dominate. They are sexual—
but empowered. Beautiful and demanding of our attention.
This is exactly what I need. This energy. Taking back my sexuality. Giving it on my terms.
I want to be up on that stage deciding exactly how much skin I show. Giving access to my body on my own terms.
Owning the audience.
We sit at a table sipping soda water with lime and dropping dollar bills in the dancers’ buckets when they sweep through the audience requesting tips.
Flynn drapes a casual arm across the back of my chair and keeps glancing over, like he’s more interested in what I think than the actual show. For a guy who doesn’t do commitment or girlfriends, he’s so damn attentive.
He always seems to have his finger on my pulse, knowing what I need. When I’m starting to freak out and when I’m having fun.
Flynn
I study Nadia’s profile as we sit at a table at Rue’s to watch the show. I’ve seen the show before–or many variations of it. I used to work at Rue’s taking the cover charge at the door a few nights a week.