Page 17 of Hunting Isla

I heard soft steps, but didn’t turn. I let her make the first move.

“Can’t sleep either?”

Turning, I saw her silhouetted in the window, the full moon behind her. I sucked in a breath. I remembered the first day I met her, Kara dragging me across the cafeteria to meet the new girl. Her hair had hung in this dark brown curtain that caught the sun, her eyes wary, but she hadn’t looked like prey. She’d looked like a predator, and my lion had sat up and whipped his tail.

When Kara had introduced us, Isla had lifted her chin and said my name softly, like she was tasting it. From that moment on, I’d wanted to chase away the wary look in her eye, desperate for her to look at me differently. With desire, lust, maybe even love. But I’d just been a dumb kid, and I didn’t have Archer’s game or Axel’s gruff appeal.

I still didn’t.

I shook my head to bring myself back to the present, to the woman in front of me rather than the girl from my past. We’d all changed.

“I do my best work at night. It’s been a hectic few days.”

She walked over, looking down at me. “It’s been a hectic few years. You grew up good, Wyatt. I’m sorry I missed it.”

I hated the look of regret on her face. I wanted to kiss away those frown lines that shouldn’t be on the face of a twenty-three-year-old.

“So am I, Isla,” I replied quietly, staring out at the moon.

“Don’t call me that.”

I turned back to her and bit my lip at the look of desolation on her face. “What?”

“Don’t call me Isla. Not you.”

I couldn’t help myself. Reaching out, I pulled her between my thighs, wrapping my arms around her waist and just holding her close. I was tall enough now that my head rested on her chest.

“Lala was an innocent kid’s nickname for you. I’m not a gangly teen anymore.”

She lifted her hands, threading her fingers through my hair, and I had to resist the urge to purr. “I noticed, Wyatt.” She sighed and rested her cheek on the top of my head. “I’m all muddled up inside. I feel things for you guys, but I can’t work out if it’s just because I love the memory of you all, or if it’s the feelings you inspire in me now. And it’s all of you. It’s like… I’m drawn to you. I know she is, my lioness. Even now, she’s battering at my skin, urging me to kiss you.

“How do I know if it’s me or her that has feelings for you guys? Can I have feelings for more than one of you? You saw how close I came with Axel earlier. And Archer…” She sighed again, heavily. “I’m so fucking confused.”

I pulled her down until she was sitting in my lap, and we were eye to eye. “You remember the first time I brought you home to see my apartment? Kara was meant to come too, but she had to pull out because her folks called?” She nodded, her eyes tracing my face, her lips slightly parted. I wanted to kiss her, but resisted. I needed to finish this story.

“So, we were standing out the front of school, and I was waiting to walk you back to my place, and you hesitated. I could tell you’d been hurt before, so I waited. Longest fifteen minutes of my life, by the way. Then you looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘Wyatt, my gut says I can trust you and my gut’s gotten me out of some serious situations, so I’m gonna come home with you. But if you make me regret it, I swear I will track you down and stab you in the eye with a spoon.’ You remember that?”

She groaned and shook her head. “Such a charmer. And I wonder why I’m still single.”

I grabbed her hand, putting it on my cheek. “What does your gut tell you now? Not your lioness, but your gut.”

“It says I should kiss you,” she whispered, raising her other hand to my left cheek. The oxygen froze in my chest as she leaned forward, her lips a breath from mine. She brushed them so softly against mine that I groaned, diving into the kiss. My tongue danced with hers, and I gripped her soft hips. She swung her other leg over so that she was straddling my lap, her nightshirt pushing up her thighs until I could feel the heat of her pussy against my leg.

Fuck.

I ran my hands up her spine, desperate to feel her skin beneath my fingers, but also wanting to let her set the pace. She gripped the bottom of my shirt and tugged it upwards. Breaking my lips from hers, I pulled the offending shirt from my body.

In my mind, I willed her to tug off her own shirt. I was desperate to see her body. I’d dreamed of her riding me every night for five years. As if she could sense my desperation, she peeled the nightshirt over her head, throwing it down onto the ground beside us. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

Holy fuck. She was gorgeous, all that pale skin in the moonlight, although she still had too many pointed edges for my liking, subtle reminders that we’d almost lost her. I made a mental note to feed her more caramel malt milkshakes. They used to be her favorite.

Her nipples were hard, and my mouth watered. I wanted them between my lips. I wanted to see her throw her head back and moan as I made her feel good. Unable to resist, I leaned forward, sucking the tight bud into my mouth, and was rewarded with a long, low moan as she rubbed herself against my cock.

I was so hard, I was pretty sure I was going to come if she didn’t stop. I switched to her other nipple, and she moaned again, grinding harder. Fuck me. I was going to come in my pants like a damn teenager. I really needed to think of something else.

Baseball. Avocados. Corporate tax breaks. Hedge funds.

“Wyatt?”