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No regrets. That’s what I had told him. I didn’t live my life with regrets.

An hour later, I was dragging Isla downstairs, past Felicia’s office, to a workout room that was tucked in the corner and where no one who wasn’t familiar with the house would know it was there. This was only my fourth time in the house, and the first since Felicia had fully decorated it, but I had made note of this room because I had been jealous of the workout equipment, the massage table, and the steam shower that was adjacent to it.

There was no way I was going to be able to talk Isla into a shower with me, but I figured I could talk her into a couple of other fun activities. The guest room had felt too risky and I was impressed with myself for thinking on my feet.

“Someone is going to notice we’re missing,” she said, but she was also softly laughing as I tugged her by the hand. “You have five minutes, tops. Make it count.”

I could do a lot in five minutes, but I figured we had at least ten. None of which I was going to waste talking. The door didn’t lock, which threw me for a second, but then I picked up a weight bar and set it across the door. That would prevent an interruption. I got the sense Isla wasn’t going to relax if she thought we could get caught.

“What are we going to–” she started to say.

Putting a finger to her lips to shush her, I murmured, “Just kiss me, Isla.”

She slid her arms around my neck and parted her lips. That sassy smile she wore nearly did me in. I bent down,

took her mouth and tasted her again. The sweetness of the champagne and the cream both lingered and while I wanted to take my time, enjoy just the feel of her lips pressed on mine, I was conscious of the limited time frame.

After a minute, I carried Isla several feet to the nearest wall and pushed her against it, harder than I intended, but in line with my intense need for her. Her back slammed into the drywall and a picture fell off the wall and hit the floor. She gasped.

“What the hell was that?”

I didn’t care. Not one damn bit. But I glanced down. “It’s a black and white photograph of a water bottle. Which is weird. It didn’t break, though.”

I dropped my mouth to her neck and kissed her, feeling goosebumps appear on her warm flesh. Brushing a hand over the swell of her breast, I undid the button on her jeans, and slipped a finger inside her panties. She gave a soft moan and it seemed loud in the dark and silent room. Isla reached out and undid my belt, which made me want to close the deal. Now. I needed her now.

“Take your shirt off,” I urged her, and I yanked my shirt over my head. I wanted to feel her skin on my skin.

Her breasts were pushed high in her bra in a way that made my mouth water. I kissed and sucked the swell above the black fabric, before tugging the cups down to expose her nipples.

“Yes,” she murmured, when my tongue flicked over her bare nipple.

The sound of her pleasure made me want to work harder, take her higher. She clung to me as I drew her nipple into my mouth and sucked the sensitive bud.

“More,” she urged me.

That was one of the things I liked about Isla– she was straight forward. She told me exactly what she wanted.

I sucked her opposite nipple, grazing my teeth over her. I tugged her jeans down to her thighs.

“Is this what you want?” I asked, voice gruff, fingers teasing over her panties.

It was a brutal tease. I was barely touching her, and Isla’s cheeks were flushed, eyes glazed. Her breathing was shallow.

I wanted more, so much more, and clearly she did too.

I wanted her to say it out loud, to tell me that she wanted my cock inside her.

Isla didn’t disappoint. “I want you to fuck me,” she said.

“I love that you know what you want,” I said, stripping down her panties. “I love even more that what you want is me.”

That might have been the most honest statement I had made in awhile.

Part of me wondered what the hell I was doing and why this woman drove me so damn crazy. Part of me knew there was no point in trying to analyze it. There wasn’t necessarily any explaining sexual chemistry between two people.

Even as I stroked over her clit, then teased a finger inside her, I knew that was oversimplifying what was happening between me and Isla. It wasn’t just sexual chemistry. It was something so much more. I was starting to think she could be my person. The one that broke me out of my pattern of hit and quit dating.

That thought terrified me. So I dug in my pocket and pulled out a condom. It was a Friday night habit to have one at the ready.

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