His Brother's Wife

by Michelle Love

  She headed straight for her secret stash – and found it empty.

  ‘Fucking, fucking Seb…’ she muttered, disappointed. She sighed and went towards the bathroom, shedding clothes as she went. The apartment was little more than three rooms divided by screens. A small bedroom with her queen-sized bed, books piled up on her nightstand. The bathroom with its claw-footed bath and ancient shower head; and the open plan kitchen/living room, where all manner of art supplies, records, more books and half- finished soda cans made it her space, the place she loved the most.

  Isabel Flynn loved her job, loved it but lately all she seems to be doing was catching up on her boss’s paperwork for him and babysitting him through a particularly grueling funding application. At twenty-eight, she hadn’t imagined she’d still be working on her Ph.D., funding it through long hours at the university and working at the gallery. She felt frustrated at not being where she thought she would be but then she reminded herself where she came from. She’d leave but really, and she smiled to herself now at the thought of his crumpled blazer and bedraggled beard. She loved Sandy; he epitomized every stereotype of the downtrodden college professor. But the hours at the moment were killing her, and there was so little time left to paint.

  She sighed, rubbing conditioner into her hair, closing her eyes, letting the warm spray hit her face and scrub it clean. Dressing in her usual uniform - jeans and t-shirt - and half-heartedly drying her hair, she pondered pretending that she was sick and avoiding whatever Zoe had planned for tonight. Then she felt bad; Zoe had saved her, done everything for her since she’d been estranged from her family. Zoe was her family now.

  ‘And that sneaky chip-thief,’ she muttered to herself as she reluctantly closed her front door and headed towards the gallery.

  Inside it was quiet so she could hear Zoe on the phone at the front. Isa slipped around to the small corner where her artwork was and was delighted and gratified to see a Sold sticker on one of her biggest pieces. That would pay her rent for the next six months, she thought and gave a silent ‘whoop!’

  ‘It’s stunning.’

  The voice - the silky, deep, sensual voice - from behind her made her leap around in shock and clutch her chest as adrenaline coursed through her.

  ‘Holy shivering fuck balls,’ she said, trying to catch her breath. The man behind her burst out laughing. Jesus, Isa let out a long breath, gorgeous. So tall. He towered above her five-five and suddenly she felt lost for words. His closely cropped dark hair, intense green eyes, a body that seemed carved from marble. Expensive tailored three-piece suit. His finely angled face was softened by that smile.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’

  She stared at him dumbly for a second, not quite believing he was real – he was so… perfect. She was amazed to find her body start to quiver, a pulse beat between her legs. Who was this guy? She shook herself.

  ‘It’s okay.’ It was, it really was. She stuck out her hand. ‘Isabel Flynn.’ When they shook, his warm, dry hand dwarfed hers and she wasn’t imagining it, held hers a little longer than necessary. The atmosphere in the room was so charged; it made her breathless. He smiled down at her, and his eyes were curious, alive, filled with desire? Am I projecting? She could imagine him suddenly pulling her into his arms to kiss her or push her against the wall and…

  ‘Sam Levy.’

  That brought her to her senses. ‘Sam Levy? The Sam Levy?’

  He smiled, and his eyes shone. ‘For my sins.’

  Wow. Sam Levy, here in front of her. His reputation as one of the best art dealers in the world, his impeccable taste. He was almost legendary in the art world. Zoe had often told her there was no-one better. She just hadn’t mentioned how freaking handsome he was. Isa was surprised; he was younger than she would have expected for someone of his standing. She was aware she was gaping, and smoothed her expression, smiling politely at him.

  ‘It’s good to meet you.’ Her voice shook slightly, and she cursed herself silently. Sam smiled again, touched a finger to her cheek. The gesture so intimate, so comforting, so kind, it made her whole body quiver. Sam nodded again at her painting.

  ‘As I said, it’s stunning. Incredible. The depth of color, the way you’ve blended them to create… Wow. Fan of Rothko, hey?’

  She grinned. ‘You got it. And I just love playing with color, putting shades that should clash wildly but somehow work.’

  Sam nodded. ‘I know – that´s why I bought it. I have a very simple apartment, mostly boring monochrome, I’m afraid. But this will bring the place alive, be a focal point.’

  Isa was speechless for a section. Sam Levy had bought her work. Sam Levy.

  ‘You bought my painting? I’m…’ she laughed incredulously, ‘…honored. Thank you so much.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Their eyes met and locked and desire flooded through Isa. God, kiss me please, please… Sam smiled as if could read her mind and stepped closer. Isa’s breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him. She could feel the heat of his body, breathe in the clean, woody, spicy scent of his cologne. Every nerve in her body was on fire, electric, wanting, needing him to touch her.

  ‘Hey, you two.’

  Seb’s voice broke the spell, and they both looked away, startled by the intrusion. Seb, clueless to the sexual tension in the air, grinned at them and then turned and yelled.

  ‘Ma! I found them!’

  Sam grinned at Isa, who smiled ruefully, shaking her head. An unspoken joke between them. So intimate. Zoe appeared, berating them for hiding from her, insisting they come back to the house for dinner.

  Sam followed them, walking next to the young artist, and he couldn’t help resting the flat of his hand on the small of her back, feeling her stiffen at his touch. Isabel Flynn. In the small time they’d known each other, he’d felt something he’d never felt before. This is it – the lightning bolt moment.

  He’d never really believed in love at first sight – he was a goddamned adult for Christ’s sake – but meeting this woman, with her soft curves, tumbling mahogany waves of hair, almost to her waist with those huge, warm dark brown eyes and the scent of her... He wanted to strip her slowly, unwrap her like a gift and cover that full, rose-pink mouth with his. He imagined revealing her body, that gorgeous, creamy dark olive skin, taking her nipples into his mouth, kissing her soft belly…

  Get a grip.

  Inside, Zoe had (deliberately?) seated him next to Isa at the small, round dinner table and now her hand rested next to his on the tablecloth. It took all his control not to take it, to feel the fit of her small hand in his. Sam was confident she was feeling it too; there were two spots of pink high on her cheeks and when she met his gaze, neither of them could look away. Her slim thigh rested so close to his; he wanted to slide his hand around it… God; he wanted to touch her.

  Sam was glad when Zoe brought the food to the table – a rich, heavenly spiced jambalaya that Seb fell on with abandon, much to everyone’s amusement. The food was glorious, the company and conversation lively and fun but all Sam was aware of was the beautiful woman beside him. He was sure that when she met his gaze, she could see the naked lust in his eyes and the yearning to just touch her, kiss her, and fuck her. His cock pressed uncomfortably against his pants just at the thought. When she leaned closer, passing a dish to Seb, crossing him with an apologetic glance, he could smell her perfume, her clean skin, fresh air, and gardenias.

  ‘Sam, how long are you in the city this time? Is it going to be another ten years before we see you?’ The expression on Zoe’s face was amusement; she looked between Sam and Isa as if she knew very well what was going on. Sam smiled and shook his head.

  ‘Not this time, Zo… Cal and I have set up here in the city for the long term.’ He looked at Isa. ‘I’m looking for new artists to mentor, to promote.’ Suddenly he didn’t care if Zoe and Seb were there, he gazed into Isa’s warm brown eyes and smiled. ‘Seems I came to the right place.’

  After dinner, Isa
volunteered to do the dishes, and Zoe bore Seb away, shooting a loaded glance at her son and smirking to herself. Sam took the wet plates from Isa and dried them, stacking them neatly on the counter-top. The heat between them was becoming unbearable. Her tee–shirt, faded pink, didn’t quite meet the top of her jeans, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of the honey skin of her belly, and when she moved, the beautiful curve of the small of her back.

  To distract himself, he asked her if she’d ever shown her work. She shook her head, smiling shyly. ‘No… I’m realistic. Art is my life, my… passion…’ she cleared her throat then, flushing. ‘But making a living as an artist nowadays? The market is so competitive, cut-throat, really and I’m just an amateur. The materials I use are mostly cheap stock, bargain basement stuff. When I get to use the good stuff, it’s usually a gift from Zoe. She keeps trying to persuade me to exhibit, but I really don’t think I’m good enough.’

  Sam took another plate from her. ‘I disagree. Even if you didn’t use the best quality materials, you would never know. The richness and depth of color you’ve coaxed out them is extraordinary. I appreciate your reticence but sometimes you just have to say what the hell and go for it.’ He dropped his voice then. ‘Of course, that’s true of most things in life.’

  Isa stopped, her hands deep in hot water, and looked at him. ‘You think?’

  He gazed back at her, waiting for a beat before he replied. ‘Absolutely.’ God, he wanted to kiss her, take that beautiful little face in his hands, and press his lips against hers. ‘Do you have anything you can show me?’ His voice was thick with desire, with double meaning.

  She hesitated before drying her hands on the dish cloth he was holding. Their fingers brushed, and he drew in a sharp breath. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. He could see she was making a decision.

  ‘Yes,’ she said finally. ‘In my apartment. Upstairs in my apartment.’ She broke off and smiled softly, taking the last plate out of his hands and stacking them all together in the cupboard. When she was done, she turned, held her hand out to him and he took it, no more words needed.

  Isa led Sam out of the house and to the stairs to her department. As she climbed the stairs in front of him, she felt him slide a hand up her leg to her inner thigh and shivered with anticipation. God… she never did this, never did the one-night stand thing but this… She didn’t know what this was, but every cell in her body was crying out for his touch.

  When they were inside, she suddenly felt shy as she stood in front of him. He brushed his fingers along the bare strip of skin between her t-shirt and her jeans, the dry pad of his thumb circling her deep round navel. Isa felt herself sway at the feeling, a small moan escaping her lips.

  ‘I’ve wanting to do that all night,’ he said softly then his lips were on hers, soft, soft, then as his hands slid into her hair, his kiss became hungry, brutal, making her head swim. When they broke apart, gasping for air, she smiled.

  ‘Wow… just wow…’ She pressed herself against his hard body, feeling the immense strength in his arms, the firm chest, so wide, so massive against her tiny frame. Sam’s hands were on her, under her t-shirt, on the hot skin of her back as he pressed his lips down into her neck. He lifted her into his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his back.

  ‘The bed?’ His eyes were frantic with desire and she nodded towards her bedroom, not wanting to speak, just kiss him and taste him.

  Sam set her down in front of the bed and gently slid her t-shirt over her head. Her hair tumbled down, soft against the skin of her back. She reached for the jacket of the exquisitely tailored suit he was wearing, but he stopped her hands, capturing both of them with his.

  ‘I want to strip you.’ His voice was husky, and Isa felt her nipples harden at the command in it. She was his – that much was clear. He slid his fingers underneath her bra straps and pulled them down slowly, too slowly. A fierce drum beat between her legs as he kissed her shoulders, her neck, and her throat. He expertly undid the hook of her bra, and as her full, creamy breasts fell into his waiting hands, he dipped his head and took each nipple into his mouth, in turn, flicking his tongue around the small bud. Isa swayed and gasped at his touch, felt his laugh with satisfaction at her utter helplessness.

  ‘Sam…’ Her voice was a whisper as he moved downward, kissing her stomach, the soft rise, and fall of her belly. ‘What are you going to do to me?’

  He looked up, his lips still pressed again her soft belly, then smiled. ‘I’m going to fuck you, my beautiful Isabel, all night, in every way you want me too.’

  She nodded, lost in the heady, delirious feeling of him. He slid her jeans down, then her panties and finally she was naked. He stepped back to admire her and the way he looked at her make her breathless. He touched her lips with the pad of his thumb, gently, and then slowly drew it down her body, between her breasts, down the line of her stomach, into the hollow of her navel. God, that felt so good… He swept her onto the bed, covering her body with his own still fully clothed, and she reveled in the abandonment of being totally at his mercy. He kissed her mouth again, his tongue gently massaging hers, exploring. His eyes were locked with hers, an unspoken connection forming between them. His lips moved across her skin, downwards, her throat, her breasts, her stomach, her belly. Isa gasped, the anticipation of his mouth on her sex was unbearable but, grinning, Sam stopped and flipped her onto her stomach. He kissed the length of her spine, bit gently into the flesh of her buttocks. His hands pushed her legs apart but still, he did not touch her and Isa moaned her frustration.

  ‘You are a very, very impatient young woman.’ He was smiling when she rolled onto her back and pulled herself up into a sitting position. He finally allowed her to touch him, as she freed his huge, diamond-hard cock from his pants. She looked up and smiled before taking it into her mouth, running her tongue up its length and circling the sensitive tip.

  She heard him gasp as she began to slide his cock in and out of her mouth, his fingers tangling in her hair, hearing him whisper her name again and again. She could feel her own sex swell and moisten at the thought of his cock sliding into it. She tightened her grip on his firm ass, digging her nails into it as she tasted him, sucked him.

  As she felt him near the climax, he gently moved her away and tore off the rest of his clothes, pushing her back onto the bed, kissing her fiercely before moving down her body. Isa gasped as his mouth clamped greedily onto her sex, his tongue sweeping along the soft crevice, his teeth grazing her clit as it hardened and pulsed under his touch. His tongue delved deeply into the honey-slicked warmness of her, his hands pushing her legs further apart, almost to the point of pain. His teeth bit down gently on the moist peach of her outer labia, the delicate wings of the inner, and she cried out his name, willing him on. God, he was unrelenting in his assault on every one of her senses. He looked up, grinned and pressed his lips against her belly as he began to slide two fingers in and out and in and out of her, his thumb stroking her clit. He moved so he could kiss her mouth again, and she could taste her own sweetness mingling with his cool fresh mouth.

  ‘God, you’re beautiful,’ he said, and she felt tears spring to her eyes at the love in his voice. Who was this man, this glorious, glorious man? Two hours ago she was grumbling about stolen potato chips and now… oh!

  He drove his cock into her, ramming himself in hard, as if he wanted to split her in two. Isa curved into him, her legs clamped around him, urging him deeper, deeper, deeper. His hands pinned hers to the bed, his green eyes locked onto hers as he fucked her, owning her body entirely.

  She knew then she would do anything for this man and when her orgasm came, she had never experienced anything like it, an explosion of senses, her limbs liquid, her head rolling back as the second, third waves hit her. Sam clamped his teeth onto her shoulder as he came, groaning, thrusting hard as his semen pumped into her.

  Isa knew that if she died at this moment, at this very second, she wouldn’t care. As they collapsed back onto the bed, Sam
drew her close, his kisses soft now, and as they caught their breath, they smiled at the other, starting to laugh from the relief of tension.

  ‘Holy hell,’ Sam ran his hand through his damp hair, grinning widely, ‘...that was intense. You’re amazing.’ He kissed her deeply, and Isa felt herself melt into it, a tender, loving kiss that sent her head whirling again.

  ‘Now we’ve got that out of the way…’she joked and he laughed.

  ‘No better way to introduce yourself,’ he dipped his head and kissed her breasts then looked up. ‘If completely unexpected.’

  Isa grinned at him. ‘Being serious for a second… I don’t usually do this; I promise you.’

  He pressed his mouth to hers. ‘None of my business anyways. I’m just honored, so thank you.’

  She was silent for a moment, trying to hide a smile. ‘Did you just thank me for sex?’

  They both burst out laughing, and he shrugged good-naturedly. It was amazing how his smile softened the hard angles of his Roman god face, and she ran a finger across his cheek, drinking in his features, the long aquiline nose, the big clear green eyes, the full mouth. He was right, though; she felt as if this whole evening had been a dream – a really, really filthy one, she grinned to herself and gave herself a mental high-five.

  ‘What?’

  She told him and he raised an eyebrow in mock reproach. ‘But I get into trouble for saying thanks?’ He slid up to lie back against the headboard and pulled her into his arms.

  She snickered, snuggling into his chest, which she was sure was actually – not figuratively but actually - hewn from granite. His arms tightened around her, and she felt him kiss the top of her head.

  ‘Beautiful girl,’ he whispered, ‘where did you come from?’

  She didn’t answer, just pressed her mouth against his chest. She could feel his cock already hardening again, pressing against her thigh.