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Izzy pressed her hands on the mattress and pushed her hips up to meet him. Caleb grinned at her. “Oh, I think I’m all in now,” he told her. She thrashed on the bed, trying to fuck herself with his hand. Caleb enjoyed watching her on the edge of out of control. “I think I’m missing something. What could it be? I thought I had it right. Slide it in slowly, feel for the sweet spot.” He enjoyed her desperation as she struggled. “What could it be?”
“Caleb!” she growled at him, clearly getting frustrated.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, nodding. “I remember now. Tension. I think we’ve got that, don’t we?”
“Caleb!” she shouted again.
“Tension and… I’m trying to recall.”
“Please!”
“Pressure,” he said decisively.
He leaned down and fastened his mouth over her mound. He searched the damp curls for the hard nub of her clit. “Oh, God!” she cried as he sucked gently and teased insistently with his tongue.
Izzy’s whole body tensed, right before Caleb pushed himself away from her, his lips and finger leaving her at the same time.
“What?” she demanded. “What the hell?!”
He grinned down at her. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, her chest was heaving. He might have thought she was in the throes of ecstasy if it weren’t for the glare she was giving him. If she had her gun right now, things would end badly. He chuckled. “I’m sorry. Did you want to finish yourself?”
“You son of a—!”
But Caleb took mercy on her and planted his lips on hers. He knew she could taste the saltiness of her own desire as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. Maybe it wasn’t mercy, he decided in a moment of honesty. He couldn’t take much more. He had to have her. Now. And there was no way he was going to let that sweet orgasm of hers squeeze his finger instead of his cock. Never taking his mouth off hers, he pulled a condom off the nightstand. With three hands (one of his and both of hers) they frantically stripped him of his jeans.
He sank inside her within moments, but the wait had felt excruciatingly longer. Izzy’s nails dug into his back, still a bit painful even though he hadn’t bothered to remove his shirt. Her legs wrapped around him and he drove in deep and hard. So much for gentle, a voice in the back of his mind said. Well, he was a man, after all, and a man could only take so much when it came to beautiful, sexy, dripping wet women in his bed.
His hips ground against hers. His dick, like his finger, found her sweet spot and rode it hard. Izzy came in a surge and he followed shortly after. They both collapsed, drenched in sweat and panting heavily.
“You son of a bitch,” she whispered between breaths.
“Hey, you came,” he argued.
“Still,” she said.
He turned his head to look at her. She was smiling at him from across the pillow they were sharing.
“Are we going to sleep half-dressed?” he asked her, noting they both still had their shirts on.
“If I could get up, I’d take it off,” she told him. Her eyes were already half-closed and her voice had taken on a dreamy, post-coital lilt.
Caleb had to admit that he was a little shaky in the knee department as well. He slid off the condom, tied it off and tossed it into the trashcan. Then he turned back toward Izzy. She rolled to her side, facing away from him, and wiggled her bare ass into his pelvis. He smiled. He couldn’t get it back up again right now if he tried, but he figured he’d sleep more soundly with one arm holding her against him and his dick pressed against her cheeks.
He could tell by the sound of her breathing that she was already almost gone. He closed his eyes and let himself go, too.
Chapter 23
Caleb woke in the dark and found himself alone again. He was beginning to dislike the feeling of waking up without Izzy next to him. And he was really beginning to dislike his dislike of an empty bed. It would be easier to dismiss it as becoming accustomed to regular, frequent—and frankly damn good—sex, but he wasn’t hard right now and he hadn’t been reaching for her so they could squeeze in another round before sunrise. He’d just wanted to…what?…cuddle? Jesus, he thought to himself.
Scowling, he yanked on a pair of boxer briefs and set off to find Izzy. He had a feeling that she hadn’t gone far. He found her again at the kitchen table, in the dark. The soft glow of her laptop illuminated her as she sat in a chair, headphones on, eyes closed.
He might have thought she was asleep, except it would be sloppy to nod off while you were doing, well, whatever it was she was doing. And in the short time he’d known her, it was obvious that Isabelle Boucher was not sloppy about anything, least of all her work. She took it seriously and she worked hard, because it was more than a job to her. It was who she was.
