Spotlight: Chapter 25

The apartment is quiet when I walk through the front door. The TV is on, but muted.

I place my purse on the counter and then round the couch to find Flynn asleep on it. His long body doesn’t fit, and his feet hang off the end. One arm is thrown over his face and the other rests at his side.

He stirs as I get closer.

“Hey.” The arm over his face moves and he aims a sleepy smile at me. “How was work?”

“Long and boring.” I climb on top of him, resting my cheek on his chest.

His arms wrap around me, and he hums a deep, gravelly sound.

“How’s Greer? Did she give you any trouble going to bed?”

“She was great. We had fun.”

“You did?” Nothing about my daughter’s attitude when I left here indicated they would be having .

“Yeah. She’s a good kid. We watched a movie, had some ice cream, and then it was bedtime.”

“For both of you apparently.” He’s warm and still faintly smells of his cologne.

“Yeah, I gotta say. This couch is fighting me a bit.”

Laughing quietly, I stand and take his hand. “Come on, Hotshot.”

I tug and he slowly gets to his feet. I stop to peek in on Greer and then lead him to my room.

I take off my shoes. “I’m going to shower. I smell like beer and fried food.”

“You smell incredible.” He pulls me to him, then drops his face to the crook of my neck and breaths me in. My body lights up as his hands find the hem of my shirt and slip underneath. I’m so tired, but I missed him.

We kiss as we fumble around to the bathroom. I start the shower and then we get undressed, stealing more kisses as we go. By the time we make it under the hot water, I don’t feel the least bit tired.

He studies the shampoo and conditioner bottles carefully before selecting the body wash next to it. As soon as he flicks the top on it, he grins.

“Now I know why you always smell like coconut.” He pours a generous amount into one palm, sets the bottle back on the shelf, and then rubs his hands together.

He sets to work, lathering me up, in slow, sensual strokes. His hands are big and strong. I love the way his rough palms glide over my skin.

When I’m practically vibrating, core aching and breathing quick, his hand finally slips between my legs.

“Spread them farther for me.”

I do as he says, stepping my feet apart. He cups my pussy and then slowly strokes my sensitive flesh with his big, rough fingers.

My hands go to the shower wall on either side of me. The sensations rocking through me already have my legs feeling wobbly.

“Already so close,” he mutters softly. “Were you thinking about me at work?”

“Always,” I admit. Though there was something extra exciting about knowing he’d be waiting for me at my place when I got home.

“Same.” He pushes two fingers inside me.

I let out a gasp as he pumps in and out, finding a slow, steady rhythm.

“I think about you, about us, about making you come, and waking up beside you…” He trails off as I let out a low moan.

“That’s it, baby. Give it to me.” He swipes his thumb over my clit as he pushes his fingers into me, and I fall apart.

I drop my head to his chest as the orgasm rolls over me in waves. It’s never been like this with anyone before. The chemistry is like nothing I thought was possible. I like him—his playful personality, how considerate and thoughtful he is, the way he is with Greer, the lengths he’s gone to show me he cares about me. But I also think he’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen and want him to tear me to pieces. I’ve never had that combination in a guy before. Good for me and good at making me come.

Only after my body stills, does Flynn slowly pull his fingers away from me. His hand reaches up and lifts my chin so he can place a soft kiss on my lips.

Some of my earlier exhaustion is creeping in post-orgasm. He must read it on my face because he smiles at me, then says, “Bedtime. I get to tuck two ladies into bed tonight. Lucky me.”

“Wait, that’s it?” I ask as he steps into the stream of water.

His mouth pulls into a smirk. “I didn’t bring any condoms.”

“Oh.” Well, that’s an oversight. Once upon a time I kept one in my purse but that’s been so long that even if I did have one, it’d probably have expired.

“It’s fine. You should sleep. It’s been a long day.” He motions with his head for us to get out of the shower.

Longer for him probably. By the look of him though, he’s not going to sleep very easily. His dick is so hard it looks painful.

“What if I’m not ready for bed yet.” I reach out and wrap my hand around the base of his shaft.

His body stiffens and then relaxes. His lashes lower until his brown eyes are barely visible.

The high I get from his reaction to me touching him never gets old. I’m addicted to it.

“You better make it quick then or no bedtime story.” His jaw tightens and the words come out clipped.

“Like this?” I ask as I move slowly up and down the length of him.

“Little tighter.”

My grip closes around him, and he lets out a guttural laugh mixed with a moan in response.

“Was that a happy sound?”

“Ecstatic,” he grits out. “Don’t stop. I’m already so close from feeling you fall apart around my fingers.”

Another thing I’m addicted to—how he revels in my reaction to him as well.

His hands move to the shower wall behind me, caging me in. His forehead drops to mine and he kisses me hard.

The sounds that leave his throat are raw and primal. Followed by little streams of consciousness like, “So good” and “I’m so fucking gone for you.” Each one lights me up and makes me more eager.

“That’s it. Don’t stop. I’m coming.” He bites down on my bottom lip as he finds his release. His cum coats my hand and my stomach, but the water rinses it away quickly.

“Goddamn,” he mutters as his breathing slows.

Our mouths linger together without really moving.

“Do I still get a story?” I ask, batting my lashes.

He laughs then bites the side of my neck.

We soap up a second time, this time more quickly and with less kissing. The full extent of this long day is finally starting to sink in.

He steals one last kiss as I turn off the water.

“Thank you for watching Greer for me tonight,” I say as we get out of the shower and dry off. “Did she say what was bugging her?”

“She did.” He nods slowly. “A girl in class called her a liar for saying she knew me.”

“What?” My tired brain comes to life as I try to process his words.

He looks sheepish and adorable as he runs the towel over his wet hair. The usually brownish-red locks are darker and fall onto his forehead.

“She drew a picture of the three of us and, I don’t know, the girl accused her of lying in front of the class and then teased her later.”

“I saw the picture,” I say and smile before I process the second part of his sentence. “Who?”

Flynn chuckles. “Easy, Momma Bear.”

I hold the towel a little tighter in my hands. “Which girl?”

“Sara something or other.”

I nod, fighting back the anger bubbling underneath the surface. Listen, I know Greer isn’t perfect and that she might even be the villain in some other little kids’ stories on occasion, but none of that makes me any more reasonable. Actually, I take it back. Greer would never call someone a name and then tease them like it sounds like Sara did to her. My daughter is a lot of things, but she isn’t a bully.

“I’m not sure what the rules are for telling you this stuff…” He trails off.

“I won’t tell her that you told me.”

“Thanks,” he says, smiling and looking relieved. He steps closer and runs his hands up my arms. “If it’s any consolation, the only reason she didn’t tell you is she knew how much it would upset you.”

“She said that?”

“Yeah.” He wipes a water drop off my cheek and then brushes his lips over mine. “You’re a good mom, Olivia.”

I soak in his words and hope he’s right.

The next morning, I wake to my alarm. Flynn’s arm is draped over my middle.

“No,” he mutters when I move to silence the incessant noise.

I laugh and turn in his arms. Greer’s bedroom door creaks, interrupting our happy bubble, and Flynn and I both go wide-eyed. We hadn’t discussed him sleeping over or what Greer would think, but it seems like it’s too late to worry about that now.

She comes bounding in, all smiles, and bounces onto the end of the bed. Seeing her so happy for the first time in days lessens my panic a smidge.

“Good morning,” I say to her as I sit up.

“Morning, munchkin.” Flynn waves and then we both wait to see what Greer will do or say.

“Can we have pancakes this morning?” she asks.

“Uh…sure. I think we have time for that.”

“Okay.” Then she squeezes her body between us, right into the nook of Flynn’s outstretched arm.

My heart feels like it might burst.

“You have to get ready for school,” I tell her.

“I know.” Her voice is despondent.

“Five more minutes?” Flynn asks with pleading eyes that match my daughters.

“Yeah,” I agree and lie back down with them. “That sounds perfect.”

The extra minutes make our morning a little more chaotic. I get ready and start on making breakfast and Greer’s lunch.

Flynn comes in shortly.

“Perfect timing.” I add another pancake to his plate. “Food is ready.”

“It smells great.” He finds Greer in the living room packing her backpack. He picks her up and raises her onto his shoulders.

She squeals with delight as he walks her over to the kitchen and deposits her onto a stool, then takes the one next to her.

Everything about this morning has been so surreal but watching them eat together, drenching their pancakes in syrup the same way, and then taking equally big bites is the final punch to the gut.

I’m in love with Flynn. Not only am I in love with him, but I want this every day. Me, Greer, him, waking up and having pancakes and getting ready for the day.

I keep that realization to myself as we eat breakfast. As soon as we’re done, it’s time to go.

“Do you walk her into her class?” Flynn asks as I grab my purse, and Greer puts on her backpack.

“Yeah,” I say. “Sometimes I drop her off, but I like seeing her classroom.”

“We have a reading loft!” Greer proudly exclaims.

“Cool. Can I tag along?” Flynn asks.

Greer looks thrilled at the prospect.

“Sure,” I say.

Flynn rides with us after I agree to drop him off at the stadium afterward. He says he’ll get a ride to his truck later and I selfishly hope that means I’ll get to see him again tonight.

At the school, we get out of the car and Flynn puts on a jacket that I didn’t even realize he had with him. Plus, his Mustangs game hat. He looks like he just stepped off the field, which is admittedly a very good look on him.

As I round the back of the vehicle, he and Greer are already waiting for me. It’s good to have my happy child back.

Flynn smiles and the three of us fall into step.

“Why are you wearing your team jacket?” I ask, leaning in so I can whisper the question. I’ve only ever seen him wear it during games between innings. It’s a bright blue with written across the front and his number embroidered into the right arm.

“Because I don’t have my jersey.”

“That is not…” My words trail off as he takes Greer’s hand. She bounces with every step, glancing up at him and grinning as wide as her little mouth will allow.

She leads him into the school and down the hall to her kindergarten room. The door is decorated with construction paper flowers. Each one has a different kid’s name on it. Greer’s is hot pink with a bright yellow center and her name written large in all capital letters.

Greer’s teacher, Mrs. Kadia, smiles and looks from Greer to Flynn.

“Good morning,” she says in a slightly chirpier voice than normal.

“Morning,” I reply, stepping in behind them. Flynn gives her a polite nod.

Greer is still holding on to Flynn’s hand.

“Have a good day, munchkin,” he says to her.

“You too, Hotshot.”

I lean down and hug her, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you. Grandpa will pick you up.”

“Love you too.” She heads off to the coat and backpack rack.

Flynn steps closer to me. “Which one is Sara?”

“Pink shirt sitting at her desk,” I say without a lot of thought and then it hits me.

“Got it.” He takes a step toward the desks.

I grab a hold of his arm. “Oh my god, Flynn, you cannot yell at her.”

His deep chuckle skates over my skin and he carefully removes my fingers. “I’m not going to yell at her. I’m going to introduce myself.”

I watch in terror as he starts toward Sara. She’s a cute girl. Shiny brown hair, dimples, and always dressed in very trendy outfits that were clearly picked out by an adult.

But before Flynn reaches her, Greer’s friend Ben steps in front of him.

“You’re Flynn Holland,” he says loud enough that the entire class can hear.

Little heads turn to him.

“Oh my goodness.” Mrs. Kadia beams. “I thought I recognized you. You pitch for the Mustangs.”

“That’s right,” Flynn says with all the abashed charm of a man who wouldn’t normally want to draw this much attention to himself.

“Greer was telling the truth,” another kid says.

I look right at poor Sara whose face turns red. Everyone else flocks to Flynn. The kids ask him questions like, “How tall are you?” and “Can you stay and play kickball with us at recess?”

He stands behind Greer and places both hands protectively on her shoulders as he answers every single one. It’s only when the first bell rings that Mrs. Kadia instructs everyone to say goodbye to Mr. Holland. He offers the kids high fives, and they go to their desks with big, awe-filled smiles.

Greer is the last one with him. He squats down in front of her. I can’t hear what either of them says, but it ends with her hugging him and me feeling like I might cry.

Emotion clogs my throat as I wave one last time to Greer. Flynn and I leave, and Mrs. Kadia calls the room to attention.

In the hallway, I wait until we’re out of sight of the kids and then hug him. He’s taken by surprise, but his arms circle my waist, and he hugs me back. I squeeze him hard, still fighting back tears.

“That was really nice of you.” The words are muffled into his chest.

His grip on me loosens and I peer up at him.

“It was mostly selfish.”

My brows pinch together.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone thinking Greer is a liar. Nobody picks on my favorite little girl.”

Now I’m the one laughing while he looks like he wants to march back into the classroom. I get it though. Nothing makes me angrier than when someone hurts Greer. It’s nice to have a partner that loves my daughter as much as I do. She’s lucky. We both are.

Stepping back from him, I lace my fingers with his. “Come on, Hotshot. We’re both going to be late for work.”