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**Parker**
Don’t offer to take care of that for her.
She’s hurting. I can make it stop. It’ll help her focus on our date and let her enjoy it.
Just as you’d enjoy her?
Hell yes.
“You okay?” Isabel asks, her tone a bit too musical to be serious. Sure enough, I drag my eyes up from her legs and lock on hers. Nope. That doesn’t help. They’re just as beautiful, if not more so. She’s smiling, cheeks turning pink the longer I stare at her.
“Not really,” I groan. Taking her hand, I want to know, “Got everything you need?” She nods. “We should get going. There are people down there.”
Isabel laughs, clearly at my expense, and agrees. “They do tend to be everywhere.”
I try not to drag her from the room, knowing we need to get to a public place soon lest I maul her. Not that I would, but damn, she’s a temptation. Everything I’ve ever wanted wrapped in a pretty white bow, err sundress.
I’m imagining it’s actually a wedding gown and she’s walking down the aisle toward me.
Fuck. I may not survive the elevator ride.
I have better control than this. I always have. I’ve never been ruled by my emotions or my dick. Not that the latter was ever running rampant and I refused to let the former.
As cliché or romance novely as it may sound, no one gave my libido the slightest inclination to wake up. Isabel, however, roused it instantly. But even if we don’t take that step, the connection is still there. Willalwaysbe there.
Even though my mom was so sure I’d find my forever here, I never expected her to be right. But I can’t put that kind of pressure on Isabel, nor would I want to. Add in that as much as I’d love to make space for her in my life, carve out room that’s Isabel shaped, I don’t have it to give. My work consumes me. Admittedly, because I let it, but it’s not entirely my fault. Usually, there’s an assistant principal that can share the burden, but the previous one retired and a replacement hasn’t been found.
Not that I think they’ve been searching that hard.
It hasn’t been said outright, yet I can read between the lines. The posting was put up, and I know there have been applicants, but they always have a reason the person isn’t suitable.
I know that’s a damn lie. I’ve seen some of the responses and know that some of them could take my job instead of playing second fiddle. They, as I would in their position, would see it as a stepping stone. Get your name in the ring, show the powers that be what you can do, then wait out your predecessor.
The downside for them is my age. Unless I burn out, suffer a debilitating injury, or die, I have a long career ahead of me. A lot of the interested parties are older than me, meaning they’d be gone before me.
Catch-22.
Isabel’s shoulder bumps mine and my arm goes around her waist, pulling her close. “There he is,” she murmurs. I lift my eyes toward the mirrored walls surrounding us in the elevator, letting her see my confusion. “You went somewhere without me.”
“Got lost in my thoughts,” I admit, apologizing for it with a kiss on the top of her head. “Work tried to intrude.” Not the complete truth, but it does tie in to the rest of it.
“Stop it,” she scolds me. “If you do that, then mine will feel left out and try to join the party. I love what I do…”
“Me, too,” I agree.
“But I’m not ready to think about it.”
“Then we won’t. Instead, let’s talk about how sexy you look and the fact I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
“Good thing I don’t have to be,” Isabel says. Then she gets in front of me, backs me against the wall, and hijacks my mouth.
Hell yeah.
I take the lead after a few minutes, needing her to know that this is a give and take. Neither of us react when the doors ding open, nor when they close and we ascend.
We stumble out, coming up for a second to gather the necessary air to continue, then dive back in. My feet take us the direction of my room, my mind counting down the doors until we reach it. When we do, I try numerous times to insert my card in the lock until I finally realize it’s the wrong way, correct it, then try again. I can’t be blamed for that, not when Isabel is nipping my neck, then licking it soothingly. “Not helping,” I mutter, causing her to laugh.
“I disagree,” she says as she rubs against me. As she looks up, she starts laughing. “I thought you were on the fifth floor?” She’s on the seventh.
