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I shake my head. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it? Talk to me.”
I shake my head again. The words flashing through my mind aren’t ones I want to share. That it has been a year, that the last person was Percy, and only Percy. That I know he was never faithful but I always was, and this feels like I’m leaving him behind, finally. And that I want that so badly, but I’m also scared of it.
But I don’t say that, because I don’t want Percy anywhere close to this hotel room.
“Just the past,” I say, and slide my hands up to wrap around his neck. “But it belongs right where I left it.”
His eyes are hard to read, thoughtful and intent on mine. He runs a hand along my jaw and slowly tips my head back. “You don’t need to pretend around me.”
“I know,” I say, because I do. “That goes both ways.”
He kisses me. It’s slow, a brush of lips against mine. Another step in the conversation we’re having.
“I know,” he murmurs. “It always has with you and me.”
I tug at his lapels and Isaac shrugs out of the suit jacket, letting it drop to the ground. Then his hand is back, cupping the side of my face, and he kisses me again.
This time his mouth slants over mine, and I sigh into the warmth, my lips parting. He’s there with a sweep of his tongue and heat spreads from the touch. It’s heady and liquid, softening my muscles, and I sink into the embrace.
Isaac’s fingers find the zipper of my dress. Slowly, inch by inch, he pulls it down my side. The touch of his skin follows, his hand slipping into the hole to touch the bare skin of my back.
“You have no idea,” he says, “how long I’ve been thinking about this.”
“You have?”
“Yes.” His hand fits itself under the strap of my bra. “The shower was just an appetizer.”
I chuckle, feeling drunk on the scent of him, his cologne and clean, warm man. “I was offering you the main course on Sunday, you know.”
Isaac makes a sound, somewhere between a growl and a groan. “Leaving you in that bathroom was hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
He tugs down the shoulder straps of my dress. The fabric cascades down my body and I shimmy my hips to let it fall to the floor.
Isaac looks down. “No shorts this time.”
“No.” I feel naked, in only my black bra and lacy panties. And I feel beautiful, vulnerable yet strong, choosing to do this again with a man I know understands me.
His hands trace the shape of my body. There’s such heat in his gaze, it burns. “The shower,” he says, “let me look. But I didn’t get the chance to linger.”
I take a step toward the bed, but Isaac has a different goal in mind. He sits down in one of the armchairs and pulls me on top of him. I brace a leg on either side of him, gripping his shoulders for support.
“And lingering,” he says, and pulls down one of my bra straps, “is my favorite part.”
He peels the bra off me. Strap by strap, and then cup by cup, until I’m bared for his gaze… and his touch.
He leans in, mouth closing over a nipple. His dark hair is a stark contrast against my skin, and I weave my fingers through it, trying to breathe through the building heat. His body is beneath me, separated only by fabric, a few insubstantial layers.
He bites down on one of my nipples. “Oh,” I say. “Oh.”
He chuckles softly, his hands gripping my hips. I start rolling them into his hands, pushing my lower body against him in a slow grind, until I feel the hard outline beneath me.
“Sophia,” he mutters. His thumbs dig in sharply at my hipbones, as if torn between slowing down my movements and egging me on.
I find the buttons of his shirt and open them one by one until I can rest my palms against the warm skin of his chest. “You’re so gorgeous,” he says, dark eyes nearly black.
“Tell me,” I say. “Tell me how long you’ve wanted this.”
