“Does it feel good?” I dig my fingers into her scalp as I massage fragrant smelling shampoo into her hair.
“Uh huh,” she responds in a hushed whisper.
We are lounging in the copper bath we initially planned on bathing in midmorning yesterday. I gathered it would be a good way to relax the tenderness bunching my muscles while also caring for Isabelle. My muscles aren’t tense from our vigorous sexual activities, but because they know the world we must emerge back into this evening.
It would be nice to escape and let my mind relax and unwind, but unfortunately, that is not attainable for a man with responsibilities like mine. The only time I can fully turn off my thoughts is when Isabelle is beneath me. She is the only one who can render me absentminded.
After our antics on the dining room table, I carried Isabelle back into our bed. She soon drifted into a peaceful sleep. My heart hammered against my chest when her terrified screams echoed through the cabin a couple of hours later for the second time today.
When she realized it was just a dream and that she was safe, she tried to put on a brave front, but the fear reflecting from her beautiful eyes gave away her deceit. I carried her into the bathroom and ran a bath. The warmth of the water and the heat of my body helped to stop her shudders.
I’ve never been the nurturing type, but Isabelle brings out sides of me I didn’t know existed. Caring for her is as natural as breathing to me.
Once the suds have been removed from her hair, I stand from the tub, taking Isabelle with me. Goosebumps prickle her skin when I stride across the room to gather a towel. The coolness of the winter day is impinging the cabin, making it a little nippy. I didn’t re-stoke the fire with wood, knowing we’d be leaving shortly.
“Thank you,” she whispers when I dry her from the tips of her toes to the luxurious strands of her hair.
“Get dressed and pack your belongings. We should probably head out before the next storm rolls in,” I instruct, peering at the glass roof.
Dark clouds have formed the hour we were in the tub.
“Good idea.” She balances on her tippy toes to press a kiss to my mouth before scurrying into the main bedroom.
I pull on my black slacks and white business shirt that were discarded on the floor before gathering the satellite phone off the bedside table.
“I have to make a couple of calls before we head off. I’ll wait for you on the veranda,” I tell her.
Isabelle stops yanking her jeans up her legs to turn her curious eyes to mine. “You don’t have to hide away to make phone calls, Isaac. You can trust me.”
My stance stiffens. “I know that, Isabelle, but there are some things I can’t disclose to you yet.”
A sigh puffs out of Isabelle’s nostrils as her lips thin. Her eyes dart between mine as I pass through the room to stand in front of her.
“When I can tell you about it, I will. Until then, you have to trust me, Isabelle.” I lift my hand to cradle her cheek. “Do you want me to trust you?”
She nods. “Without trust, we’ll have nothing.”
“Exactly. That is why you need to believe me when I say I can’t divulge every meticulous detail with you yet, but when I can, I will. I promise.”
A smile curves on her mouth. “Then that is good enough for me.” After staring into my eyes for several heart-clenching seconds, her eyes search for her clothing, which is discarded chaotically throughout the room. “I should be ready to leave in around twenty minutes. Will that give you enough time to make your calls?”
My lips inch high as I nod.
“Okay, I’ll meet you outside in twenty minutes,” she says, staring lovingly into my eyes.
“Stop looking at me like that, Isabelle, or we’ll never leave this cabin.”
“Please,” she mumbles under her breath.
When my head tilts and my brow arches high, a pink hue flushes her cheeks. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
My cheek muscles rise as a smile stretches across my face. “Do you need me to scratch your itch before I make my calls?” I step closer to her while my eyes rake her seductive, enticing body.
A shiver bolts down her spine before her eyes shift to the window. “Does your car have a hard-top roof?” she asks, her tone surprisingly serious.
Her bottom lip drops into a dreary pout when I shake my head. “I’ll meet you outside in twenty minutes,” she says, her voice sorrowful.
Isabelle is as scared of storms as she is of flying. She appears to have some vendetta against the sky. After giving her a long, steam-filled kiss that has her seductive scent filtering in the air, I head outside to make my calls. Isabelle’s lust-filled eyes track my every move.
