He smirks again before moving to the convection oven that is signaling our meals are ready. “To be honest, I thought your fall was a ruse to gain my attention. I’ve become accustomed to the tactics women use to secure my devotion the past few years.”
He removes the lasagne from the oven before placing a generous serving on my plate. "But the instant your big, beautiful eyes looked up at me, I knew it wasn't a ploy. You were truly embarrassed and seemingly unaware of who I was.”
“I didn’t have a clue who you were until after I arrived at Ravenshoe.” I stop talking, wondering if I’ve revealed too much.
Slowly raising my gaze from the plate of lasagne, I catch Isaac staring at me cautiously. Seconds feel like minutes as we undertake an intense, chemistry-riddled stare-down. A smile curves on my lips when he breaks the connection first by nodding and striding toward the fridge.
“I guess I allowed my stellar reputation in Ravenshoe to get the better of me,” he remarks, pulling a bottle of red wine from the wine fridge. “I’m certain everyone in Ravenshoe knows who I am, but you've humbly reminded me there is a whole world outside of Ravenshoe that doesn’t have a clue about some arrogant businessman named Isaac Holt.”
“Their loss,” I reply, hoping to ease the tension in the air.
His chuckle has my mind wandering away from the food in front of me.
Forever diligent, Isaac says, “Eat, Isabelle. You’ll need your energy.”
He wasn’t joking. Once we finished our dinner and two glasses of wine, Isaac had his dessert on the very bench we were eating on. Then in the shower. Then in his monstrous four poster bed.
By the time we're preparing to go to sleep, the sun is already rising over the horizon. Isaac emerges from the bathroom. He has disposed of his used condom and has a washcloth in his hands. Even sexually sated and deliriously tired, the pulse in my neck thrums when he places the washcloth between my legs and cleans me. Once all the residue of my climax is removed, he slips back in between the sheets and pulls me in close to his body.
An appreciative moan tears from my throat when the soft curves of my body mold into the hard firmness of Isaac. "Stop moaning or neither of us will get any sleep.” He sounds as exhausted as I feel.
“Is that even possible?” I ask, my words muffled by a yawn.
My heavy-lidded eyes flutter open when his stiffening cock digs into my backside. “Does that answer your question?” he asks.
Biting my bottom lip, I roll over to face him. My glowing eyes bounce between his as he saves my bottom lip from my menacing teeth.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he says before sealing his mouth over mine.
34
Isabelle
“Ididn’t know there was a muscle there,” I grumble to myself.
Every muscle in my body is throbbing. Now, don’t get me wrong, it is a good pain, one I’d happily choose to feel every day, but I’m suffering soreness in areas I didn’t know housed muscles.
After working my neck side to side to relieve the kink formed there from sleeping on Isaac’s drool-worthy pectoral muscle the past several hours, I climb out of bed. Unsurprisingly, I'm once again waking up in an empty bedroom. I feel like a zombie, so I have no clue how Isaac can live off such little sleep.
This room is much more adeptly decorated than the room in Isaac's fuck pad. The color theme is a luxurious burgundy and charming dark steel gray. His bedside tables have pictures and knick-knacks on them, and the ceiling isn't mirrored. I guess the mirrored ceiling in his apartment should have been my first clue that it wasn't his primary residence.
“Wow,” I murmur when I spot the remarkable visual out his bedroom window.
My attention was so focused on Isaac last night, I didn't pay any attention to the spectacular view out his window. You can see nearly the entire downtown area of Ravenshoe from this vantage point. A smile curls my lips high as I slide my arms into the sleeves of Isaac's blue business shirt he was wearing last night. Once I have the top three buttons done up, I pull my unruly hair from the collar and exit his room.
It takes wandering around his imposing mansion for nearly twenty minutes before I locate him sitting behind a mahogany desk in a vast office.
He is seated in a black leather chair, swiveled around to face an arched window behind his desk. He is talking to someone on his phone. From his tone and demeanor, I’d say it is a business associate or a staff member.
I prop my shoulder on the doorjamb with the intention of watching him in silence. Forever vigilant, Isaac senses my presence. My breath hitches when he pivots the chair around to face me. He is wearing a pair of dark washed jeans and a fitted white shirt. To add even more allure to his sexiness, he’s also barefoot.
As my eyes absorb the sexually satisfying visual of a casual and laid back Isaac, his eyes study my body with just as much eagerness. He smirks a panty-clenching smile when he notices I'm wearing nothing but his blue shirt from last night.
“Yes, I’m here,” he snaps down the phone when his perusal of my body interrupts the flow of his conversation.
My pulse quickens when he gestures for me to join him. Fiddling with the hem of my shirt, I pad into his office. When I accept the hand he extends, he pulls me down until I'm sitting on his lap. A strong surge of yearning ripples through me when his erect cock digs into my backside. I'm surprised when he continues with his call, his authoritative tone not once faltering, not even when his hand slips under my shirt to tweak my nipples into stiff peaks.
“Henry, enough stalling. I don’t care what it costs, just get it done.” He disconnects his call, not giving Henry the chance of a reply.
