The Player (Chicago Bratva 8)

“I know I don’t seem like the most dependable guy. Before I met you, I used to party five nights a week. I slept around. I didn’t try too hard at much of anything. So I get it if you don’t think I can man up and be held accountable.”

“Wait. That’s not true. That’s not true at all. I don’t think any of those things about you, Flynn.”

Pain lances through my heart at hearing how he sees himself. Have I contributed to that self-image? I don’t understand how.

He shrugs. “You can ask more of me, Nadia. I mean, if you want.”

My lips part, but I don’t know what to say.

What is he offering me? To be my boyfriend?

“I want that,” he says.

“I don’t understand,” I confess. I think it’s less a language barrier than Flynn not being completely clear.

He looks down at me with those warm brown eyes. “Do you want more?”

Caught between rushing to assure him that everything he’s given me is more than enough and wanting to beg for it all–the full Flynn package of moving in together, buying dishes and using matching toothbrushes–I end up with my mouth open and no words at all coming out.

In that moment, I watch something shut down behind Flynn’s eyes. “It’s cool,” he says, releasing my wrists. “I like what we have.” He climbs off me.

“Wait!” I grab his shoulders, but to my distress, he keeps moving.

I leap onto his back, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, so he’s carrying me when he stands.

He laughs, my weight pulling us both toppling backward to the bed.

“Like this?” I ask. “Can I demand piggyback rides?”

He frees himself of my hold and flips around, tickling me. I scream and giggle, pushing his hands away. “I’d be pissed if you didn’t.” I love the deep rumble of his voice.

“Can I demand spankings?” I must be channeling Kat, but I want the playfulness she and Adrian have. That ease and bond they have with each other.

Flynn flips me to my belly and lands a few choice slaps on my ass. “Always. You have the perfect ass for spanking.”

I try to think what else to demand of Flynn. I’m still not sure what he wants from me, all I know is I desperately want to give it to him. Everything he desires.

“I want my song.”

Flynn rolls me onto my back. “You’re getting your song, sweetheart. I’ve been working on it, but it’s not ready yet.” He leans over and kisses me.

“I’m going to make demands all day long, Flynn Taylor. You’ll be sorry you asked.”

He doesn’t look sorry, though. He looks far more content than he did a few minutes ago. “So tell me what you want to do this afternoon.”

Oh.

My pulse races when I finally get the gist of what he’s asking of me. He’s saying I get to weigh in on his time. His plans. His life.

Is he really giving this to me?

I draw a breath and sit up, facing him. We’re nose to nose. “I definitely want to see you play with your dad’s band.”

Flynn’s grin makes my whole world combust. Flames lick the walls of his bedroom, the floor, the bed. With one simple smile, he burns down the walls between us, and I have nowhere to jump but into his waiting arms.

“Let’s go, sweetheart.” He hops off the bed, sending me a wink over his shoulder as he goes to his dresser to find some clothes.

I sit on the bed to watch, savoring the moment. Not wanting to share this one with Flynn’s fans. No, I was keeping this incredible Flynn scene all for myself.

Flynn

My dad’s band was playing in a microbrewery in the suburbs that caters to an upper-middle-class fifty and older crowd. The Nighthawks are a solid choice, as they play the music of that generation although it might get a little louder than the manager anticipated.

I park in the lot and unload my guitar and amp from the van. Nadia tries to take the guitar from me, but I don’t let her. “You’re not my pack mule, Peaches.”

“What am I?” she asks.

“My muse.” My girl. My inspiration. My everything.

She likes my answer.

I grasp her nape and pull her in for a kiss, breathing in her butterscotch scent. “Your job is to look beautiful and be you. Can you handle that?”

I love seeing the laughter light up her pretty face. “Yes.”

“Good.”

We walk in together. My dad is up on the stage, setting up the equipment with Lenny, the drummer and David, the keyboardist. I’m filling in for Jeff. My dad does a doubletake to see me with a girl. Up until now, I’ve been the chip off the old block when it came to women. I didn’t do long term. I didn’t even do short term.