She huffs. “Yeah, our plans were slightly altered.”
She gives me a look. Unfortunately, I don’t know her well enough to know what it means. With a grumble, she shuffles to the kitchen counter where the coffee pot is. Her movements match the ones I made this morning when I begrudgingly dragged my post-orgasmic body out of bed. I truly forgot how much work goes into self-climaxing. Not only do you need to stimulate several regions of your body at once, you then shred a thousand calories in under twenty seconds—if you’re lucky.My muscles are aching so much this morning, I’d be tempted to call it quits. . . if it didn’t feel so good.
I stop peering into my empty coffee cup when Isabelle asks, “So, what did you get up to last night?” She strives to keep insinuation out of her tone but does a terrible job.
I shrug. “Nothing much.” I bite on the inside of my cheek, attempting to hide my smile.
Isabelle spreads her hands across her hips as her glare ramps up. A grin tugs on my lips when she arches her brow, calling out the deceit in my tone with an attitude I didn’t know she held.
Certain I can subdue her as well as I do Isaac, I reply, “Well, it was way more than nothing. It washuge.” I fan my flushed cheeks, acting like a real harlot. It’s appropriate; my mood is certainly elevated compared to yesterday.
Isabelle giggles while placing a dash of milk into her mug of tea. “Anyone I know?”
Her question truly stumps me. If it were Hugo, I’d wave my magic fingers in the air and savor his whitening gills, but this is Isabelle. She’s too timid to see my wild side. I don’t want to scare her—yet.
Seconds feel like hours as I strive to conjure up a random guy’s name. For the life of me, I can’t think of one. At this very moment, I can’t even recall the name of the man who pays for my apartment, much less the one leering at me as he strolls toward the kitchen.
“Nope,” I answer Isabelle with a shake of my head, deciding a non-generic reply is better than throwing another man under the bus like I did Isaac last year.
Deceit clouds Isabelle’s eyes, but I’m saved from answering her silent question when Hugo enters the kitchen. “Morning.” His voice is as shit-eating as the grin on his face when he barged in on me last night.
After issuing me a frisky wink that Isabelle misses, he heads for the coffee pot to help himself to a large mug of steaming hot brew. He watches me over the rim of his mug for several minutes, certain he’ll have me squirming in my chair at any moment. It’s a pity the pathetic, woeful Regan he spotted last night up and left town right alongside my inability to pleasure myself.
If he wants me to bow at his feet as I stupidly endeavored to do last night, he’ll need to bring more to the game than a cheeky grin and devastatingly blue eyes that conjure thoughts of the man truly responsible for the return of my mojo.
Spotting my determination from a mile out, Hugo shifts his focus to Isabelle. “Are you ready to head out soon? Avery isn’t a fan of tardiness.”
When Isabelle remains quiet, Hugo waves his hand in front of her face, making me notice how large it is.Hmm. Maybe he doesn’t have a Tic-Tac for a cock?
“Pardon?” Isabelle asks, clearly confused when she snaps back to the land of the living.
She’s been rather spaced out the past two weeks. As her attorney, I want to pretend her lack of focus is due to her energy being zapped by her campaign for freedom, but as a woman, I know that isn’t the case. She’s not the only female in this room twisted up in knots over a man. She doesn’t want to serve time for a crime she didn’t commit any more than she wants to live without Isaac in her life.
My hooded gaze strays to Hugo when he chuckles. “I was asking if you’ll be ready to leave in ten minutes for your appointment with Avery?”
Isabelle’s big brown eyes dart to the clock on the microwave. She mumbles a cuss word under her breath before pivoting on her heels and darting out of the kitchen. “I’ll be ready in five.”
Hugo waits for her warped bedroom door to slam shut before shifting his eyes my way.
“Don’t you dare.”
His grin enlarges. “What? I wasn’t going to say anything. I was just going to ask if you’re okay? You look a little flushed. Aroused even.”
His last sentence comes out in a flurry from my fist landing in his stomach. Bad move. His body is as firm as it looks. My knuckles throb as images of him shirtless flash before my eyes. I gobbled them into my memory bank last week with the hope of using them for future explorations, but after last night’s endeavor, I’m certain there’s still only one man capable of bringing me to climax.
Last night wasn’t the first time I’ve used visuals of Alex while masturbating, but it was the first time it worked. I want to pretend the sprinkling of memories from our romp in his surveillance van two weeks ago was the reason my libido succumbed to the pressure, but I know that isn’t true. It was remembering those three little words he said to me, the ones I’ve sworn time and time again that I never wanted to hear.
Even if it was a lie, my memories of that morning will never be sullied with negativity. Alex took care of me that night; he held me while I cried, then promised everything would be okay, and it has been. I haven’t walked the path I wanted to, but it’s been okay. My family is safe. I’m safe. Even Alex is safe.
Now all I need to do is the job I am paid to do. I need to protect both Isaac and his assets. If I get my head into game mode, maybe my heart will follow suit?
“Party pooper,” Hugo grumbles when I give him a final glare before exiting the kitchen, my steps more spirited than my earlier ones.
* * *
A few hours later, while Hugo and Isabelle go on a run, I call Parker, a member of Isaac’s team on the West Coast. “Thanks. I’ll pass on the information to Isaac, although I don’t see him being happy about the delay. We transferred the money as requested; now they need to deliver the goods.”
Parker murmurs in agreement, but his reply shows he’s on the other side of the fence. “Things may work like that in a normal industry, but it’s Isaac’s first dabble in this lifestyle. He’s not in charge here.”
