Our rigorous physical activities this morning have already stretched my time thin. I’ll be late to work if I don't leave this house within the next thirty minutes.
Isaac chuckles while strolling into the bathroom. Rolling my eyes, I turn back to face the mirror to continue my fruitless attempt to hide the dark circles plaguing my eyes with the compact foundation I carry in my clutch purse. It appears to be a shade too light since my skin is blessed with the hue of ecstasy, but it is the only makeup I have available, so it will have to do.
My heart flips when Isaac leans over to place a quick peck on my freshly shampooed hair before snagging his toothbrush from the ceramic holder on the countertop.
Every hair on my body bristles to attention because of his close proximity. The heat of his erect cock scorches my curvy backside when he leans over my shoulder to dampen his toothbrush under the running tap. A tiny shudder dashes through me. Even being sexually sated numerous times the past forty-eight hours, I can’t stop my body reacting to Isaac. The more I have him, the more I want him.
Swallowing hard, I stash my compact back into my purse and grab the spare toothbrush from its holder. Isaac remains quiet, but my awareness of his closeness is paramount. I don’t need to look at him to know he's watching me. The heat of his eyes is an obvious enough sign.
Intimacy fires in the air as we brush our teeth side by side. Although there is a double sink, Isaac spits his toothpaste into the one in front of me. Every brush of his body against my arm heightens my senses, and every time my body responds to his touch, his smirk enlarges.
I nearly choke on the mouthwash I’m gargling when he tugs open the knot on the towel curled around my body two seconds later. After drawing in a sharp breath, his eyes assess my body. From the bulge his dark blue trousers are straining to contain, I'd say he appreciates the visual of me standing before him naked.
I spit my mouthwash into the sink before turning around. “You have twenty minutes,” I warn him with my brow cocked in the air.
His lips crimp into a mouth-watering smile that have my knees clanging together.
Returning his smile, I throw myself into his arms and seal my mouth over his minty lips.
* * *
Over thirty minutes late, I scamper into the office as fast as my quivering legs will take me. I should have known a man with impressive stamina like Isaac wouldn't have known the definition of a quickie. Even with Hugo driving like a maniac, and taking every shortcut he could find, there was no way I could gain back the hour I lost in the bathroom earlier.
My nervous eyes shoot to Alex’s office as I scramble toward my desk. I breathe a sigh of reprieve when I spot Alex sitting on his desk with his gaze planted out the window. Plopping into my chair, I fire up my computer before throwing my purse into the top drawer of my desk.
A girlie squeal erupts from my lips when I raise my gaze. Brandon has sneakily moved to my desk, undetected.
“Holy crap, you scared me.” I clutch my breathless chest.
He smiles and wiggles his eyebrows. “Sorry, Izzy. I just thought these might stop you from getting another one of Alex’s famously long tirades for being late this morning.” He gestures his head to the eight cups of steaming hot coffee he is holding.
My eyes bulge. “Oh my god, Brandon. I love you; I love you; I love you.” Leaping out of my chair, I plant a huge, sloppy kiss on his cheek.
His face turns the brightest shade of red. “That’s okay, Izzy. I'd do anything for you.”
Just as he hands me the two crates of coffee, Alex pivots around. Our eyes lock and hold for several terrifying seconds. Seconds feel like hours anytime Alex's stern blue eyes reprimand me. His gaze is so troubling, a sweat mustache forms on my top lip. My breathing returns when Alex's eyes snap down to the coffees in my hand, and his lips curve into a smile.
“I owe you, big time,” I whisper to him before racing around the office to dispense the coffee to each recipient, making sure I drop off Alex’s black coffee first.
* * *
By the time lunch rolls around, my neck no longer feels the dull ache from Isaac’s fingers when he arched over the bathtub this morning. It’s from scanning hundreds of documents into the geriatric copy machine in the dingy, cramped supply closet. Alex wants a digital copy of my Uncle's hand-scribbled notes and files, which means thousands of documents need to be manually scanned into the FBI database. In a much larger office, this task may take a couple of days, but using an ancient copier that only scans one page at a time, it will take weeks, if not months to complete this meaningless task.
I’m still rubbing the kink in my neck when the supply closet door creaks open. My breathing pattern levels when Alex strolls into the room. The air in the minute-sized closet turns stifling when a thick stench of awkwardness suffocates us.
After offering Alex a quick, unassured smile, I return my focus to scanning the documents. Alex clearing his throat, he makes his way to the corner of the room to gather some camera equipment. Because of the lack of space, his hand accidentally connects with my backside on the way by.
After gathering a digital camera with a long zoom lens, he makes his way back out of the room. I draw myself in as close to the copier as possible to ensure he can glide by without bumping into me.
Upon exiting the door, he spins around to face me. “You can make up your late arrival by either skipping your lunch break or staying back later tonight,” he advises, his tone stern.
Swallowing harshly, I nod.Obviously, Brandon’s clever ruse has been unhatched.
38
Isabelle
Two hours later, Brandon discovers me sitting on the floor in the supply closet. He offers me a reassuring smile before making his way into the room. An appreciative grin forms on my mouth when he sits down next to me and hands me a salad sandwich and a bottle of OJ from Harlow’s bakery.
