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The way she whimpered.
The way her beautiful, dark eyes turned hazy as she got closer and closer to orgasm.
He was close, too—so close that it was an agony not to come. But he wanted—needed—her to come first. He wanted to see her face as pleasure took her, wanted to feel her body clutching him, holding him deep inside.
Sweat rolled down his muscles, pulled at the small of his back as he continued to build the pleasure—and the tension—between them. Isa moaned, her voice low and broken as she pleaded with him to send her over. Pleaded with him to let her come.
And while there was nothing he wanted more than to give her release—and take his own—he also wasn’t ready to let her go. Wasn’t ready for this to end. It had been so long since he’d held Isa like this, that he wanted to make every second last forever. Who knew when—or if—they’d ever have this chance again.
Except Isa wouldn’t let him wait. Clutching at him with her arms and legs and body, she pulled him close. Pressed hot kisses to his mouth and jaw and neck. Sucked a bruise of her own right above his collarbone.
It was that mark, that brand, that sent him over the edge. Slipping a hand between them, he stroked her once, twice.
That was all it took to have her crying out his name as her body clenched rhythmically around him. And then he let go, too, coming deep inside her as pleasure roared through him like a freight train. Coming until he couldn’t figure out where she left off and he began...or how he was going to live without this, without her.
* * *
He woke up feeling better than he had in years. Six years to be exact. His body was sated, his mind at peace. It was a strange feeling—so strange that it sent Marc hurtling from sleep into wakefulness with a speed that was practically painful.
His eyes flew open, and as he glimpsed Isa’s bright red hair fanned out next to him on the pillow, the events of the previous night came flooding back in graphic, and arousing, detail. As his body responded to the private slide show in his head he thought about rolling over. About pulling her on top of him. About sliding into her as those gorgeous brown eyes of hers blinked open.
He wanted that, wanted her—even after all the times he’d had her the night before—with an intensity that bordered on desperation. Which was why he did exactly the opposite.
Rolling out of bed, he grabbed his pants and padded quietly down the hall to her kitchen, which was the last place he remembered having his shirt. Sure enough, it was crumpled on the ground, along with his shoes.
As he pulled his clothes back on, he tried not to think about the night before. Tried not to think about how good it had felt to have Isa back in his arms.
He’d never felt with another woman what he felt when he was with her. When they’d been together—when he’d loved and trusted her—making love to her had been an amazing high. He had lost himself in her day after day, night after night. It probably should have been scary to a guy like him—who had trouble trusting anyone—but it hadn’t been. He’d been so crazy about her that he had never imagined she might betray him.
But she had and now they were here. The only problem was, he didn’t know where here was any more than he knew where he wanted it to be. Yes, last night the sex had been fantastic. More than fantastic, it had been hot and exciting.
But it wasn’t the pleasure that had him awake as dawn slowly streaked its rainbow fingers across the ocean outside her window. No, it wasn’t the pleasure that was freaking him out. It was the way his body and mind felt balanced and rested and replete for the first time in a very long time.
He didn’t like the fact that Isa was responsible for the feeling. It had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d walked into the back of her classroom and seen her teaching and already they were back in bed. Already he was thinking about taking her again. Already, he was thinking of taking her back.
And that was where the trouble lay. Because there was no way he could do that. No way he could forget that she’d betrayed him six years ago. No way he could forget that she had chosen her father—a man who had stolen from Marc, who had destroyed years of his work, who had nearly ruined everything he’d worked for—over him.
Because if she could do it once, in the middle of the most intense and powerful love affair he’d ever had, then she could do it again. And if that was the case, then he needed to walk away right now. Before he fell victim to all the little things he’d once loved about her.
Like her smile and her scent.
Like her wicked sense of humor and her even more wicked intellect.
Like how sleepy she was in the morning, when she wrapped herself around him and begged for kisses.
“You’re still here.” Her voice was husky with sleep, but when he turned to face her, her eyes were wide-awake. “I thought you’d left.”
“Not yet. But I do need to get going. I’ve got to get to the office.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“I’m aware of that. But I work on Saturdays.” He pretty much worked every day. “Especially now that I’ve taken on the class at the institute.”
He thought about crossing to her, about dropping a kiss on her still-swollen lips. But if he was honest with himself, he was as uneasy as she obviously was. More unsure of what he wanted to do and how he wanted to do it than he’d ever been in his life. It was an uncomfortable feeling, one he didn’t like at all.
“You never used to work on Saturdays.” Her voice was even, but still it sounded like an accusation. Which, in turn, made him feel guilty, even though he had nothing to feel guilty for.
He lashed out before he could think better of it. “Yeah, well, six years ago I thought I was safe. I thought I’d built the company up to a place where I could breathe a little, where I could take an occasional day off and trust things would be okay. If you remember correctly, that didn’t work out too well for me.” He didn’t even try to keep the temper out of his voice. How dare she accuse him of running out on her when she’d been the one to betray him? The one to disappear off the face of the earth for more than half a decade?
