Page 81 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

When I felt the tip at my opening, I raised my hips and lowered myself on him. He spread me wide, and I threw my head back, careful not to whack it against the ceiling of the bus.

He fingered my clit, trapped between our two bodies, and my blood thickened, moving at a sultry pace through my veins. He timed his flicks to my thrusts against him. He should’ve been a drummer.

I stopped moving as a heated passion crawled through me. I clenched my legs against his hips, almost feeling that tattoo throbbing against my flesh. The tattoo he got for me.

Pleasure suffused my core, and I pumped against him to share the feeling with him. Placing his hands on my hips, he sunk his fingers into the soft skin of my ass, guiding me.

I let him take the lead, and he bounced me up and down on his cock so hard my boobs jostled like they were double D’s instead of decent B’s.

He stopped moving, and I looked into his face, but he’d squeezed his eyes closed, and his jaw looked like it was about to break as he tried to contain the howl I knew was trying to escape. Loud comer.

He ended on a loud expulsion of breath and pulled me down to bury his face in the crook of my neck. With his lips next to my ear, he whispered, “That was bloody harder than I expected.”

“That was exactly how hard I expected—and more.”

“Saucy wench.” He cupped my tits and ran his thumbs across the nipples. “I don’t think anyone heard us.”

I said, “If they did, could you imagine anyone bringing it up in polite conversation? Pass the coffee, love, and did you enjoy your quiet fuck last night?”

“Actually, I could see a few people asking that—of me, not the keeper of the keys, though.”

I raised myself off his body and snuggled against his side. “You’ll let me know if they do.”

“What are you gonna do? Put a checkmark next to their names on your clipboard?”

I bit his shoulder. “This was your idea. I was perfectly content in my solitary bunk down there.”

“That makes...” he held up his index finger “...one of us.”

“Were you lying in wait for me?”

“Sort of.”

Conor’s head jerked at the sound of a text pinging on his phone. “Jaysus. Who’s sending me messages at this time of night?”

I covered my eyes. “I don’t even want to know at this point.”

What if someone really did hear us? Or maybe took a picture of us. My gaze darted to the corners of the ceiling looking for the eye of a camera.

Conor sat up and reached for his phone, charging on the small shelf at the foot of his bed. “Bloody hell, Noelle. It’s another text from anonymous.”

I pressed a hand to my heart. “What does it say? Did they give you a name? Is it Gordon?”

The glow of the phone lit up his face as he read the text to me. “Follow the money. It’s not Gordo.”

Chapter 20

CONOR

We reached Albuquerque at around eight o’clock in the morning, and most of the crew headed straight to their rooms to get a decent night’s sleep. Noon at the pool, and it looked like everyone was still in bed.

Noelle and I didn’t sleep, decently or otherwise—mostly otherwise. I’d kept her in my bed until the sun rose on the desert landscape, holding her close all night while we whispered theories to each other about who sabotaged our relationship.

Follow the money. What money? And if not the most obvious suspect, then who? Noelle was convinced the not Gordo was a fake to throw us off, but why would anonymous even contact me?

The gate to the pool clanged as I picked up my coffee, and my hand jerked, sloshing some over the side.

Rhys strolled toward me clutching an energy drink. “Hey, mate. Get any sleep?”