My voice barely projects over his loud, angry grunts. “I haven’t had sexual contact with anyone but you in over a year.”
Isaac's unbridled onslaught against the worn bag halts. He remains facing the bag, allowing my eyes the chance to absorb every muscle, dip, and curve of his sculptured back. He is breathing so hard, his heavy pants echo through the deserted warehouse.
When he turns to face me, my pupils enlarge. His gaze is unnerving, but even with his eyes showing his anger, I see a small amount of reprieve forming in them.
“Say it again,” he requests, his voice hoarse from the harshness of his panting.
"I haven't had sexual—”
“Not that statement. The one about last night,” he interrupts, his tone clipped.
Swallowing hard, I repeat, “I didn’t sleep with anyone last night.”
“Where were you?”
“I was working.”
His eyes stare into mine. He can see through to my soul, so he knows I’m telling the truth. Furthermore, he’d detect my deceit, so it would be fruitless for me to lie to him.
“Why didn’t you say that this morning when I asked you the same question?” he asks.
“Because I was angry at you.” Honesty echoes in my tone. “I wanted you to feel what I felt when I saw you with Tatiana.”
“I already felt it, Isabelle,” he retaliates with a snarl. “When you had your lips on not one, but two men in a week.”
“That isn’t even close to the hurt I felt watching you fuck your way through half the female population in Ravenshoe,” I spit out.
My anger boils when he smugly smirks at my comment. Shaking my head, I spin on my heels and pace toward the roller door. “I don’t know why I bothered coming here.”
“Stop, Isabelle.” Isaac’s deep voice reverberates in the empty warehouse.
Ignoring his request, I increase my long strides. My tears are threatening to spill, and I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing he has upset me.
Without warning, Isaac bands his muscular arm around my waist, halting my rapid steps. "I said, ‘Stop!'" he hisses into my ear.
My anger over everything I’ve witnessed in his surveillance photos and in person the past five weeks is unleashed when I vehemently throw my legs and arms out. Angry grunts emit from my lips as I struggle to breathe through the tears streaming down my face.
No matter how hard I fight, Isaac doesn’t release or loosen his tight grip.
My ferocious battle lessens when he whispers, “I haven’t slept with anyone since you.”
“You’re a liar!” I fire back. “You had a condom in your wallet. You were planning on sleeping with Tatiana.”
Isaac’s clutch on my waist constricts. “Let’s get one thing straight, Isabelle. I don’t fucking lie, ever!” he rebuts. “And two, I got that condom out ofyourpurse. That night, I gave you the benefit of the doubt that you put it in there for me, not Ryan, but you didn’t consider giving me the same courtesy?”
My struggle halts. I did put a condom in my purse that night. I went into that date wanting to spark a reaction out of Isaac, so I went in fully prepared. I knew my desire for him always outweighs my levelheadedness. I didn’t think to ask him where he got the condom; I just assumed he had brought it with him.
“Not everything is as it seems, Isabelle, but I haven’t been with anyone sexually except you since our weekend away. Whether you choose to believe me or not is your choice,” he mutters into my ear.
Once he places me down onto my feet, I brush my unnecessary tears off my cheeks and pivot around to face him. His handsome face is taut and constricted, and his beautiful eyes are shifting between mine. He is still panting heavily, making his well-toned chest rise and fall with every breath he takes. His black UFC glove-covered fists are clenched at his side. This is the rawest I’ve ever seen him, and it is an equally stimulating and emotional sight at the same time.
Although I have deep-seated trust issues from my childhood, I trust what Isaac is saying. You can’t fall in love with someone and not trust them.Without trust, there would be nothing.So as much as my brain is telling me to wait and evaluate the situation once I have a clear and conscious head, my heart has already formed its own decision.
“I believe you.” I take a hesitant step toward him.
The agitation marring his beautiful face softens the instant the words filter from my mouth. Lifting my hand, I cradle his sweat-drenched cheek in my palm. The muscle in his cheek tremors from my touch. A smile curves on my lips, pleased his body reacts to my meekest touch just as robustly as my body does to his. Brazenly, I propel onto my tippy-toes and seal my mouth over his. His mouth is warm and inviting and tastes salty from the sweat running over them. I Inwardly cheer when Isaac allows me to control the pace of our kiss.
When Isaac caresses my ass cheeks in his hands and squeezes them, my legs lift and curl around his waist. A husky moan rumbles up my throat when my pussy connects with his stiffened shaft. He inhales a sharp breath before his dominant nature is unleashed and he increases the tempo of our kiss.
