Read Flynn's Kiss (Disarmed & Dangerous) for Free Online Page B

With an automatic gesture, he lifted his fingers to stroke along his scars. Rosie raised her head from Sam’s chest, popped her thumb out of her mouth with a loud suction noise, and leaned precariously away from her daddy, her eyes wide with wonder and her arms flailing toward him.
    Fuck.
    What was he supposed to do? The kid was about to impale herself on the corner of the table and Sam seemed oblivious, his head turned away while he murmured to Lydia.
    The kid leaned out farther.
    Beads of sweat popped out of Flynn’s skin.
    Shit.
    Her arms waved at him for a moment longer, and then with the confidence of her own immortality, Rosie launched herself off her daddy’s lap straight at Flynn.
    Instinct had his arms shooting out to catch her. Terror had him snatch her to his chest. Not much made his heart rate soar. The ice man of the industry barely breathed heavy at the most challenging of stunts, but faced with a kamikaze kid, he’d almost died.
    He clung to her little body. His hand, almost larger than her head, pressed her face into his chest, but she was not to be repressed.
    She wriggled and laughed as though the world had not almost ended for her. She squirmed her knees into his groin and coaxed a pained grunt from him. His mind emptied as the small bundle came nose-to-nose with him, and her slippery wet thumb traced a snails trail across his cheek, her deep blue eyes filled with avid concentration as her fingers reached his ear and the intersection of his scars.
    Other than rip her hand away, he had no choice but to sit and take it. Rapt fascination filled her tiny face. Hypnotized by her, his muscles relaxed, the pain in his groin subsided, and his lips twitched into a small wry smile. The little sweetheart on his lap fidgeted a little closer, pulled her thumb back along his jawline, up to the edge of his lips, and rammed her sticky thumb into the corner of his mouth, her fine nail scraping the edge of the scar.
    With a hiss he jerked his head back. Rosie’s little mouth pursed into a rosebud, and she leaned in closer and touched her forehead against his cheek so she could get a closer look.
    “It’s a very big ouchy.”
    The air in his lungs huffed out. “Yeah.”
    “I have an ouchy.”
    “Oh?”
    “Yeah. Look.”
    She brought her right hand up to his nose, and he almost turned cross-eyed in his attempt to focus on the small bandage wrapped around her little finger.
    “Oh.” He wasn’t sure what was expected of him.
    “Did you have a plaster on your ‘ouchy’?”
    Her attention zoomed to his face again, her little fingers once more on his scar tissue. A strange sensation tingled the back of his neck, the nerve endings around his damaged skin felt nothing, but the whisper of her fingers at the edges pebbled his flesh with small twitches of awareness.
    “Yup.” His lips grazed her fingers as he spoke.
    “Is it all better now?”
    “Better than it was.” He had no idea what effect his grudging response would have on Rosie, until her eyes widened with huge sympathy and her long black eyelashes fluttered until her lids closed. She leaned in and touched her soft lips to the puckered skin at the corner of his mouth, and his insides convulsed in a feeling so unfamiliar, it sent spurts of panic into his chest and out through his throat, resulting in bear-like grunts.
    “It’s okay…” she whispered. “I kissed it better.”
    The hard prick of tears hit the back of his eyes, and he blinked fast and furious, wrapped his arms around the little girl, and kissed the top of her head, rocking her. He pulled away, gave a quick peck to her forehead, and the pull of a smile curved his lips.
    “Rosie, are you coming to play?” Rosie’s twin Aaron stood by his side, completely unmoved by the scene.
    “I will.” She cupped her tiny hands on either side of Flynn’s face and squished them together until his cheeks pressed in so hard against his lips he figured he might resemble a blowfish.
    With one last wet