“Oh, god.” She stills as the most beautiful image in the world crosses her face. My name rips from her throat as the greedy squeezes of her pussy send me to oblivion with her.
The sensation is blistering, but I maintain the reputation I fought so hard to achieve by sinking my teeth into the fleshly skin on Isabelle’s shoulder. I dated Ophelia for months, but not once did any of the inane thoughts in my head right now transpire while I was spilling my seed inside her.
I loved her, but this feels different. It’s unexplainable, and in all honesty, utterly frustrating. The power Isabelle has over me astounds me, but it gives me more understanding of my father’s constant battles with my mother.
All bets are off when your heart is at stake.
46
With my confusion ensuring an early night is not on the cards, I slowly withdraw from Isabelle’s still clenching pussy, gather up some of my cum spilling out of her with a tissue, scoop her into my arms, then make a beeline for my bedroom.
When Isabelle snuggles into my chest, thoughts about my parents’ volatile relationship flood my head. My relationship with my father isn’t as strong as it could be because I could never understand why he always placed my mother’s feelings before his own. I thought he was weak, where now I am realizing that is far from the truth. It takes strength to put someone’s needs above your own and a love unlike anything else. The fact his dedication to my mother and their relationship wasn’t reciprocated shouldn’t come into it. He promised to love her. He has kept his promise even to this day. In my eyes, that makes him an admirable man, and I plan to ensure he knows that at the first available opportunity.
Isabelle’s faint breaths ripple in the sweat dotting my chest when I detour past the king-size bed in the middle of my room to enter the master bathroom. I head for the shower at the back of the large space, certain no amount of hot water will clear the ludicrous thoughts in my head about a woman some could say is still a stranger but willing to give anything a shot.
Failure isn’t a word in my vocabulary.
Once I’ve switched on the faucet and ensured the water is at the perfect temperature, I step Isabelle and me into the spray without once relinquishing her from my hold. My muscles are aching with exhaustion, so I can only imagine how bad Isabelle’s are after enduring an endless number of orgasms.
We stay huddled under the shower for what feels like hours but is only minutes before a memory of my father caring for my mother after she gave birth to Nick filters through my head. He took care of her with so much love and tenderness even someone not so young would have been convinced they’d stay together forever. He cared for her in a way that made him a man, and I plan to start emulating him from here on out.
After placing Isabelle on her feet, I snatch up my shower puff and body wash, then squeeze a generous dollop of the manly-smelling goop onto the spongy material. The flare I couldn’t recognize in Isabelle’s eyes earlier darts through them again when I commence lathering up her body. I glide the shower puff across her breasts, over her stomach, between her legs, and down them before I switch my focus to her hair.
Her faint hums when I massage shampoo into her scalp thickens my cock, but I shut down urges that will never fully relinquish in her presence to show her a side of me no one has ever seen.
I’m ruthless because I need to be to stay ahead of my competitors.
I’m cold and standoffish because my heart was frozen when the woman I loved died.
And I refused to contemplate marriage and commitment because I thought my parents’ failed marriage meant every marriage would fail.
But right here, and right now, I am not that man.
I am Isaac Holt—a mere man, not an enigma.
And if the knowledge wasn’t already established, Isabelle ensures it is when she mutters under her breath, “You reallyreallylike me.”
She should hate the world for how it chewed her up and spat her out. However, she doesn’t. She grabs every opportunity presented with two hands, and I’m going to do the same. “Why do you think I forced myself to stay away from you?”
When panic flares through her eyes long before relief, I smirk before massaging the conditioner deep into the roots of her almost black hair. She’s confused by my reply. It’s understandable when you consider how much I’ve kept from her. She knows about Col, but what she doesn’t know is that I am to blame for his interest in her life. If I had just walked away from an offer too good to be true, no events the past six years would have occurred.
Isabelle would be safe, and I’d still be miserable.
After locking down my shock that I wasn’t living my best life before Ophelia died, I speak from my heart for the first time in years. “I’m not a good man, Isabelle. I tried to stay away from you so I could protect you.” When she tries to interrupt me, panicked I’m about to once again push aside our undeniable connection, I squash my finger against her lips. “It would have been safer for you if we’d never met, but now that I’ve claimed you as mine, I can’t give you up. But I promise I will protect you, and no one willeverhurt you.”
Proof Isabelle can read me like no one ever has presents itself again when she asks, “What did Col Petretti say to me in Italian the night we left your club?”
He hasn’t been mentioned, yet she knows who most of my anguish centers around.
I don’t know whether to take Isabelle over my knee or kiss her senseless when she saves me from the fire with five little words. “Don’t lie to me, Isaac.” She stares up at me with stern, unapologetic eyes, not only reminding me she is not a member of my team but that she is also far more significant to me than anyone in my life. “You said you never lie.”
Hating that Col is once again causing havoc in my life, I clench and unclench my fists three times in a row before slowing breathing out, “And you will soon become one.”
Confusion hardens Isabelle’s beautiful face a mere second before lucidity forms. Col told her she was exquisite and has the face of an angel before he threatened her in his native tongue, conscious I could both understand and comprehend his threat.
“Is that why you went out on all those dates?” Tears threaten to fall down her face when she snaps her eyes shut. “So Col would think I wasn’t any more significant than the woman keeping your bed warm that night? You were protecting me?”
Her eyes rocket back open when I reply, “That was my original plan, but even Col could see…” I stop to make sure I use the correct terminology when referencing our relationship. When I can’t think of an appropriate term, I mutter, “Whatever this crazy thing is between us. He knew the instant I retaliated to his threat that you were more than some random one-night stand.” Isabelle’s smile only reaches half its strength, cut short by my next confession. “Col Petretti has been spotted several times the past four weeks in Ravenshoe.”
