Nadia
After Flynn takes me to a corner bakery for breakfast–where I was absolutely fine–we return to his place. I sketch designs for the burlesque dancers on a pad of paper he found for me while he composes music.
Like last night, it’s more than comfortable. There’s an ease between us. A familiarity. Like we’ve been together in past lifetimes, so we just settle right in like it’s old times.
I don’t ever want this to end.
Gospodi, I said I love you to Flynn when we had s*x this morning! Fortunately, I said it in Russian, and he didn't understand me.
I now realize why everyone was so afraid I would get hurt. It's not that Flynn would hurt me. But I'll hurt myself.
I have hurt myself.
Because now that I've tasted Flynn, now that I've been the focus of his attention, the recipient of hi
