He cursed, short and swift and colorful, then gave a curt nod. “At this point? Ask me anything and I’ll answer just to see you lying across my bed with nothing but the shoes on.”
“When was the last time a woman went down on you?”
His eyes tightened, small crow’s feet appearing at the corners. “Does it matter?”
“If you want this to come off—” she let one shoulder of the dress slip “—you’ll answer me, and not with another question. What happens next is up to you.”
“It’s been a while.”
“Which translates to how long?”
“I don’t know for sure.”
Her eyebrows winged up. “Are you serious?”
He dragged a hand down his face. “This is a bit uncomfortable for me.”
Without a word, she dropped the dress from her shoulders to her waist and revealed the long-line bra she wore. All of it—the deep V in the front; the low corset back; the demi cups that supported her breasts; the lace edge of each cup that barely revealed each dusky nipple’s crest.
Isaac let out a soft groan. Jaw clenched, he reached for her and then stopped himself, letting his hand fall back to his side.
He didn’t look away, though, and Rachel swore the weight of his gaze was so heavy it could have been measured.
His cock kicked, pushing away from his belly before the elastic pulled it back against his abdomen.
“Rachel,” he said, not pleading, exactly, but not far from it. “I’m going to assume you asked about my history for a reason.”
“I did.” Lifting her left breast from the lace cup, she gently rolled the nipple between her thumb and forefinger.
He watched without blinking.
A growl rumbled up from deep in his chest. “I can’t think with you touching yourself like that.”
“Good.”
He shot her the briefest glance. “Good?” he choked out.
She lowered her voice. “That means we’re even.”
Isaac let his head fall back and he groaned loud this time. “Please, Rachel.”
With decided casualness, she removed the bra and tossed it onto the floor, where it landed across one of his feet.
Rising up, she shimmied the rest of the way out of her dress. He’d done away with her underwear in the car, so all she had on were the shoes.
As requested, she left them.
Slipping off the bed, she stood before him in nothing but the shoes, her hair tumbling around her.
He touched her then, tracing a finger down her neck, across her décolletage, between her breasts and then under so he could palm one breast. When he dragged his thumb across her already swollen nipple, he did so with the softest touch.
Her sex clenched tight when, without warning, he dipped his head and suckled that same nipple with just enough force that her knees nearly buckled. She ran her fingers through his hair and held on to him, encouraging him to show the other breast the same attention.
“Greedy, are you?”
“Hungry,” she said on a gasp. “Hungry for you, Isaac.”
“You’ve got me.”
And that was what she wanted right then. Him. Only him.
Seduction had been her sole intent. Her seduction of him. But he had flipped the tables so fast that she was forced to take a step back before she begged him to take her against the wall.
All from a little breast play.
Like she’d realized early on, chemistry wasn’t a problem for them.
But she still wanted to taste him, to have him at her mercy, to hear him call her name and beg for more. And she knew the fastest way to get exactly what she wanted.
Stepping back, she ignored his protest and went to her knees. With intentionally slow movements, she gripped the bottom edge of his boxer briefs and pulled, watching as the elastic waist slipped down and his cock sprang free. She chanced a quick look up, thrilling at the wild look on his face, the way he instinctively spread his legs and reached down to cup his balls.
He wanted this as much as, possibly even more than, she did.
Running her hands up the insides of his thighs, she encircled the base of his cock, pulled the head away from his abdomen and took him all the way to the root. Took him so deep that her nose bumped his pelvis. She rose at a leisurely pace, letting his cock slide along her lips until the crown popped free.
Isaac gasped, his hips lurching forward with such lack of control she knew he had stopped thinking and, instead, started experiencing. And that? That was what she had wanted all along—someone to go on this wild, one-night ride with her, a lover invested in their mutual satisfaction versus someone who had a one-sided agenda.
Rachel nibbled the flushed head of his cock, using her teeth to tease and add another layer of sensation.
He leaned back and, using one arm, braced himself against the dresser. “Oh. My. G—”
She swallowed him to the root again, this time working her way up and down the length of him in rapid up-and-down movements that simulated the sex act and left him pumping his hips in time with the pace she set.
Continuing to slide up and down his length, tasting the building evidence of his pleasure, she was surprised when he rested his hand on the crown of her head and encouraged her to slow down. She was about to balk when he ran his fingers through her hair and whispered, “Your mouth is magic, Rachel. Sheer magic.”
He shifted, changing the angle at which he thrust between her lips.
She accommodated the change, which required her to go even slower.
“Your tongue...” He sucked in a sharp breath as she traced the underside of the crown. “God, right there.”
And she focused on the spot that drove him wild.
He started to move then, and she followed his lead, gently nudging aside his hand so that she could palm his sac and encourage him to find his release.
Isaac bent his knees and lost himself to the culmination of the pleasure she’d brought him.
He swept down and, for the second time that night, scooped her up in his arms. This time, he settled her in bed with a kiss on the forehead and climbed in beside her. “My turn,” he said, lips pressed to her forehead.
He left a trail of kisses as he worked his way down her body, his lips and mouth and teeth doing things to her that made her mind blank and her nerves fire in rapid bursts of sensation. When he got to the apex of her thighs, he didn’t slow down. Instead, he parted her legs wider and worked her clitoris between his upper lip and tongue until she was writhing with pleasure, crying out as the first orgasm hit. Isaac didn’t give her a chance to recover before he drove her to her second orgasm, an experience just as intense as the first.
Lying limp beneath him proved the best she could do as small aftershocks played across her nervous system. A slight tap-tap-tap of a finger against her hip tried to get her attention.
“Rachel is busy having an out-of-body experience. Please leave a message at the beep,” she murmured. “Beep.”
“No message necessary,” he responded, and the bed shifted with his weight as he prowled back up her body.
The familiar sound of foil being torn had her turning her head to one side and watching with anticipation as he slipped a condom over the length of his hardened cock.
“You do things to me,” he said softly, not looking at her.
“What kind of things?” she asked, trying not to smile at the sound of her voice—so satiated—and failing.
He lifted one shoulder. “Things I can’t really articulate.”
Then he moved between her thighs, nudging them wide and then wider, before taking her left leg and draping it over his shoulder. She must’ve looked a bit surprised because he smiled as he propped himself up and slipped his free hand under her ass.
“Better—” he rapidly thrust forward and down “—penet
ration.”
Rachel lost her mind as he filled her, stretching her sensitive flesh and driving into her without slowing. She thrashed beneath him, trying to move in time with him, but the way he held her, the way his cock thrust so rapidly and his pelvis ground against her clitoris, all she could do was experience.
One moment she was caught in the throes of passion, and the next her fourth orgasm of the evening was wracking her body. There was no warning. No sense of impending release. It simply happened, threatening to tear her limb from limb as she thrashed beneath Isaac’s weight, crying out and demanding more, demanding cessation.
Both.
All.
None.
Until she couldn’t take it anymore and simply gave herself to the pleasure, to the man who owned her body and played it like a maestro.
She was coming down, every muscle lax, when Isaac made a small sound that drew her gaze to his. He watched her; never looked away. Muscles in his neck were corded with the strength of his own release, and his movements became less and less controlled until he pumped his hips in a frantic way and then she felt it. The pulse of his orgasm. The way it worked down the length of his shaft.
Lazily lifting her hand to his shoulder, she felt the desperation leave his muscles and he collapsed atop her, his lungs working like an industrial bellows as he fought to regain control of his breathing.
She’d brought him to this point, this place where he’d nearly given up control.
And she liked that she’d been the one to make it happen.
Almost, anyway.
Without a word, he rolled to the side, pulled her against him and spooned her, his hand cradling her hip.
Her eyes grew heavy and she let sleep come. She was almost across that dark threshold when she thought Isaac said something—something that sounded suspiciously like “We’re far from done.”
She hoped that was exactly what he’d said.
But first, she needed sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SUNLIGHT BREACHED THE windowsill and crept across the pillow until it struck the strand of hair Isaac had been rolling between his fingers. Rachel was lying in front of him, her lips, still slightly swollen from the night before, parted just a bit as she breathed deeply and slowly.
Asleep.
He knew the agreement they’d had—they would enjoy each other for a night. They’d done just that. Man, had they ever.
He wondered which direction she’d take things this morning. Would she bolt? Would she linger? Maybe insist they share a leisurely breakfast? Would she try to get him to confess to having some unnamed feeling for her?
Chances were good she wouldn’t try to make their night anything more than it had been. More realistically, she’d discover they were docked and call for a ride—either the friend she’d referred to last night or a cab.
Would she ask to see him again?
He wouldn’t bet on it.
He scowled. What was it about that that pissed him off? Women routinely wanted to see him again, wanted to create something where nothing existed. Those women were easy enough to gently send away. No need to hurt feelings. But Rachel was...different. Could he let her leave, let things go under the pretense that nothing really existed between them?
Not going there.
Would she leave him her number?
He knew the answer to this one without a doubt: she would...if he asked.
And he wouldn’t.
Isaac had seen and done a great many things in his life, but pursuing one woman exclusively didn’t make the list.
And it never would.
There was too much at risk; too much that couldn’t be predicted and, therefore, protected.
Rachel made a small sound in her sleep and snuggled deeper into her pillow.
God, she was beautiful in the early-morning light.
“Beautiful in any light,” he whispered.
The way his life was structured suited him, and he didn’t see the value in changing something that worked so well.
But doesn’t she work well for you? The question, one he hadn’t even been aware he’d been bandying about, was a legitimate one.
She did, in fact, suit him in many ways. Sure, she was his opposite. And the way she tested his control made him mentally itchy. But she drove him insane in an entirely different manner when their clothes came off. And insane was the right word considering that he was even entertaining the thought of seeing her again.
There was something so undeniably different about her. She was the first woman he could remember who made him want one more moment with her, another round between the sheets. One more of anything that would keep her within his reach.
His phone buzzed, and he realized with a start that it was Friday.
A workday.
And he was late.
Isaac was never late. Particularly for work.
Gently rolling away, he dug his phone out of his jacket pocket and saw his brother’s number flashing on his display.
“What time is it?” Rachel asked, her voice raspy with sleep.
Isaac sent his brother straight to voice mail before he turned to the woman in his bed. “It’s seven forty-five.”
The covers flew back and she nearly fell out of bed. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit! I have to go!”
Every component of the conversation he’d had with himself—every argument for not seeing her again, every rationale for letting the morning be the end of things—evaporated. Only one single word came to mind. “Stay.”
She paused, pushing her mane of hair out of her face and revealing eyes gone wide with surprise. “What?”
“Stay.” He cleared his throat. What the hell was he thinking? But he carried on despite the idiocy of the request. “Stay. Today. With me.” What the hell. In for a penny, in for a pound. “We’ll go somewhere for the weekend.”
“And what?” she croaked.
“Spend time together.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
“Plotting world peace? Just spending time together, Rachel. I enjoyed your company and was under the impression you might have enjoyed mine.” He shifted to better see her. “We can take the weekend and figure out what this is, figure out what’s going on between us.”
Rachel sank down on the edge of the bed, twisting the dark material of her dress until it was a crumpled mess, her bare toes curling into the plush carpet. “Where?”
He shrugged. “Anywhere you want.”
A small laugh escaped her, and she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, looking down with obvious dismay to find she’d turned her dress into an impossibly worse mess. She smoothed the wrinkled fabric, stretching it this way and that in a futile effort to straighten it even moderately before she gave up and slipped it on. “I can’t. I have to go to work.” She turned and presented her bare back. “Zip me up, would you?”
“I’m not throwing this out there without some thought, Rachel. I would very much like you to spend the weekend with me.”
She glanced back at him, her face a riot of emotions. “I’d like that, Isaac. Truly. But I have to go to work. You might be the one the Lord goes to for a personal loan, but I, unfortunately, don’t have that type of financial freedom.”
“You’re an attorney,” he stated, as if she might have forgotten.
“Right. With all the student-loan debt that accompanies the job title. I don’t have a choice.” She shook her head, then darted across the room to grab her shoes. “Then, when you add the outrageous rent I pay for a one-bedroom studio in the city? I have to work. I did try, once, to get my landlord to accept Monopoly money for my rent.” She grinned over her shoulder, the look bright and unfettered. “He wasn’t amused.”
“Call in sick.” He knew he sounded irascible, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t ready for this to end.
Shoes in hand, she turned to face him. “Excuse me?”
“Call in sick.” He shrugged. “People do it all the time.”
“‘People’ might, but I don’t. Ever. It’s not ethical.”
“Be that as it may, it tells me you have the time on the books. You must get at least five days a year. If you don’t ‘ever’ use them, then the days are available. So use one.”
“And where would we go?”
“Like I said, anywhere you want.”
“Dublin.”
“Ireland?”
“No, Isaac. Dublin, Ohio.”
“I’m not sure what’s there, but if that’s where you really want to go? Sure.”
She moved so fast he didn’t have time to avoid the pillow she chucked at him. Before the first one hit the floor, she’d armed herself with another and was poised to pitch it, as well. “Yes, Ireland. Dublin, Ireland. If you meant it when you said anywhere, it’s the place I want to go more than anywhere else in the world. For the chance to go, even for a weekend? I’d call in.”
Satisfaction moved through him like a warm wind. If visiting Ireland was her greatest wish? He could make that happen a hundred, even a thousand times.
Moving with deceptive casualness, he retrieved his phone and tossed it to her. It landed on the bed, inches in front of her. “Call in.”
“You’re serious.”
“I would think you’d realize by now that I don’t make offers I can’t, or won’t, follow through on, Rachel. I don’t play games.”
“You’re insane.” Grabbing her clutch, she seemed as if she was about to leave. Instead, she pulled out her phone. A few taps to the screen and she held the phone to her ear, her pointer finger hovering over her lips in a shushing gesture. The sound of ringing, a recorded greeting and, finally, the beep cueing her to leave a message. She looked at him with wide eyes, her hesitation as clear as the crisp blue sky outside.
He nodded once toward the phone.
“Jim, I won’t be in today. I have to take care of something that came up unexpectedly. I’ll use a personal day to cover the absence. Feel free to call if there’s an emergency and I’ll do my best to get back to you before the day is out. Otherwise, I’ll talk to you Monday.” She disconnected and let her hand fall to her side, the phone slipping free and hitting the floor with a muted plunk.
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