by Gina Kincade
He looks at me hard. “She already wants you.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Yes,” Dom says stubbornly. “Yes, if you want her.” He nods in her direction. “Then I’m not going to get in the way.”
“You’d kill me.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Yes you would.” I stare at Dom, at the glass in his hand and the rosy flush of his cheeks. “You wanted to kill me in college when I got more girls than you, and this would be exactly the same. Probably worse.”
“You want her, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. She’s phenomenal. We’re not debating that fact.”
“And she wants you. So, I don’t know why we’re debating any of this.”
“Serious?” I shake my head.
“Serious.”
“I’m going to give you one last chance,” I say, holding up my drink. “If you’re fucking with me, you better tell me. Tell me right now. I don’t want you pissed off afterwards when you gave me your fucking blessing.”
“No last chances needed. It’s a done thing,” Dom nods. “I know you’ve already made up your mind that you want her.”
“That’s not the point—”
“It’s exactly the point.” Dom raises his glass and downs it in one hot swallow. “You can’t stop inertia. You can’t stop an avalanche that’s already started.”
I stare at him, pretty sure that was a mind-fuck more than permission. But if that’s his attitude, if he believes this is already a done thing and he’s given up, then hell, Ilsa deserves better.
“What are you two conspiring about over here?”
Both of us look up to see Ilsa walking toward us. Her wrap flutters at her thighs from the breeze and the sun lights up the fabric with a caramel glow.
“Who can drink more whiskey,” Dom says, turning to smile at her with fake exuberance. She frowns at him.
“Since when do you drink whiskey?” Ilsa asks.
“Since my buddy here brought us some straight-from-the-mainland Irish gold. And this guy has the most refined whiskey palate I’ve seen this side of the hemisphere.” He nods to me and the bottle on the counter. “I’ve got a thing or two to learn from him about the nuances of barley malted alcohol.”
Ilsa turns to me and narrows her eyes. “You’re quite the instigator. You got him drunk, didn’t you?”
I raise my hands like an innocent. “I only claim to have brought the bottle. I don’t control what he says, or does, or drinks.”
“I may be a weeeeee bit tipsy,” Dom agrees, pouring himself another healthy glass.
“Hey, that’s expensive shit,” I scold, and Dom smiles.
“You can afford it,” Dom teases, before tilting his head and remembering my new venture. “Oooor, maybe not.”
“Not really the point.”
“Told you he was drunk.” Ilsa says, walking between us and picking up the bottle. She throws back a swig, straight from the open neck. “Jesus!” She curses after swallowing, looking at the label. A flush blooms over her neck and my pants tighten as she licks the remaining whiskey off her lip, my mind racing with a hundred dirty things that make me wish Dom wasn’t here. Her eyes lift up to meet mine and her pupils dilate.
“Okay, ladies,” Dom raises his overly-full glass, pulling our attention back to him. His gaze is on me with a sharp smile that I’m still not sure is permission. “I’m going to retire for the evening and write my report on today’s dealings.”
“Don’t write that now!” Ilsa snaps, nodding to his glass. “It’ll be a mess.”
“Nah, it won’t,” he counters. “I better get out what I can remember now, before this sweet baby obliterates the rest.”
“Dom!” Ilsa scolds. “That’s a bad idea. Stay. Hang out.” She motions to the terrace, where the sun has hit the horizon and the sky is dancing with pink.
“It’s a brilliant idea,” Dom replies, nonchalantly winking at me. Fuck, I want Dom to let loose and embrace the mess. But is this really how he wants to do it?
“Are you sure you know what you’re talking about?” I ask, and Dom’s gaze is hard on me for a second before it softens into a smile.
“Always,” he says in a cocky tone that makes Ilsa frown. “Please, keep Ilsa entertained, would you? I really must update our board about the progress.”
“Dom, come on,” Ilsa protests. “We can call the company later. You’re friend’s here and—”
“Oh, you know me,” Dom says playfully, sauntering over to Ilsa and kissing her on the top of the head. It’s chaste and brotherly, like he said their relationship is. “My brain’s a sieve,” he continues. “I won’t remember a thing in the morning.”
“Like you’ll remember anything now!” she complains.
Dom starts to rattle off numbers and sales figures, and I have to admit, he sounds like he could walk into a board room right now and give a full report. Drunk or not, Dom doesn’t fuck around when it comes to business. I eye Ilsa and his persistence that they’re just friends suddenly makes sense. Dom would never play around with something this important. I look at him again, just to be sure, but he’s already heading toward the hallway.
“You’re a complete bore!” Ilsa calls out and he turns around, smiling widely.
“That’s what makes us such a great team. The beauty and the bore. You keep Isaac entertained. I’ll do the report. See you both in the morning.”
“You’re an ass,” I chime in as Dom heads down the hallway.
“One that’s makes five times what you do, now that you’ve gone rogue,” he sasses back. “All work and no play, makes for a big fat bank account!”
He disappears around the corner and I turn to Ilsa, shaking my head.
“I’m sorry about that,” I say. “He used to be able to hold his liquor.”
She laughs. “When was that, college? You flash a virgin mai-thai in front of that Irish lad and he practically doubles over from the thought of drinking.”
“You two don’t drink?”
“We drink, just ... not on these trips,” she explains. “We played the hold-each-others-hair-back-as-you-puke game on our first business trip, and trust me, he may have held his liquor once, but his liver doesn’t know he’s Irish.”
“Shit.” I pick up the bottle of whiskey, feeling guilty. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s alright. He’s an adult. We don’t have to baby sit him. He’s just going to pass out in there in ten minutes anyway.” Ilsa leans forward and takes the bottle from me. “And just because Dom can’t hold his liquor, doesn’t mean I can’t.” She twists off the top and throws another shot back.
“Jesus! You realize that’s pretty much the hottest thing in the world.”
Ilsa raises an eyebrow. “You’re easily amused.”
“Most women won’t go near whiskey.”
Ilsa shrugs. “Yes well, I don’t get to drink much on these trips. We usually celebrate a deal with truffles, or something I’ll have to spend three hours on the treadmill to burn off. This—” She lifts the bottle. “Is a God-send! Come.” She grabs my elbow and pulls me out toward the pool. “You have to see this view.”
Chapter Five
Ilsa
I walk Isaac to the pool and sit down on the tile, hiking my wrap up to my thighs before plunging my feet into the water.
“Take your shoes off and put your feet in,” I say, cold shooting up my legs. I’m pissed at Dom for drinking and bailing on us, so I toss back another swig of whiskey in retaliation. “Feel the water on your legs,” I say, practically moaning. “Feel the contrast of the cold water and the heat of the whiskey in your throat.”
I don’t have to look at Isaac to feel the way he’s staring at me. That was an overly sexual thing to say and I know it. Maybe that’s why I said it. Because I want someone to look at me like that.
I don’t know why I feel as pissed off as I do. Today went beautifully. It was the perfect negotiation. We reeled in our clients like fish. The
Asian territory and that promotion are in my grasp. We simply sign the documents tomorrow and it’s done. I throw back another swig.
“Are we about to go skinny dipping with the way you’re throwing whiskey back?” Isaac teases, and I smile without answering.
“Sit!” I say, patting the tile next to me and Isaac does as he’s told. He takes off his shoes and socks and rolls up his pants.
“Jeez! They don’t heat this?” Isaac exclaims as he dips his feet in the pool.
“Nope.” I hand him the bottle. “That’s part of the magic. I’m not kidding. Take a drink then look at that horizon. Look at all those neon lights blinking to life and how the sun dips behind the buildings and turns everything into stars.” I point to the glittering teal and pink skyline, where the sun can no longer be seen, as my eyes start to adjust to the dark that’s incoming.
“That is amazing,” Isaac agrees and I’m happy to have someone to share this moment with. To be on top of the world where anything is possible and dangling my feet beneath that stretch of infinite sky. Maybe that’s the whiskey talking, but I don’t care.
I kick my feet in the water, delighting in the swirl of ripples against my toes, then I look over at Isaac. He’s beautiful in the dying light, his strong jaw still peppered with five-o-clock shadow, his broad shoulders visible through the thin t-shirt.
“You know,” he starts. “Dom said you weren’t philosophical with people you find attractive.” He turns his head to look at me and smiles mischievously, seeing if I’ll take the bait.
“Dominick doesn’t know anything,” I say smoothly, delighting in the warmth of the whiskey that’s started to buzz in my lower belly. I know nothing about Isaac. I don’t know what business he’s in, why he stopped being a lawyer, where he grew up, or how the heck he and Dom ended up friends. In a hundred ways, I don’t care. I’m just thankful to have someone sitting next to me atop this lonely high-rise in a foreign country.
Maybe that’s the piece of this puzzle that I didn’t expect—me. How lonely I really am. How the flirtation of one good-looking stranger can throw me off my game so much and disrupt everything I thought I wanted—which is passed out in the other room.
Isaac’s arm brushes against mine and a zing of excitement shoots through me. The tickle of his arm-hair makes my body twinge with the tease of how simple this attraction really is. It’s charged and effortless, in contrast to everything with Dom which has been tension and calculation ... and maybe, all in my head.
The color of the pool has changed. The innocent pink is lost from the sky, replaced by something deeper, an intoxicating shade of purple. And I know slipping under that sheet of water would feel like diving into starlight, my skin covered in a splash of stars I could never catch. My calves bob in the water, creating tiny ripples that tickle me with how little it would take to send a shock wave through my entire life.
“Okay,” Isaac says, pulling me out of my reverie and abruptly yanking his feet out of the water. “Fuck it.” He stands up and I barely have time to register that he’s pulled off his shirt, before I’m staring at the muscles of his stomach. I try not to react, or stare, or holy-hell let my mouth drop open as I take in his tanned and broad landscape. My hands grip the edge of the pool, wishing they could trace the carved lines of muscles, when—
He unsnaps his belt buckle.
An erotic whoosh shoots through me with the promise of that tiny clank of metal, and suddenly his jeans lay pooled by his ankles.
“What are y—” Only my words don’t have enough breath, because he stands in only his grey boxers with the orange glow of the suite back-lighting him, making my skin tighten. He’s positively lick-worthy, and everything my body is aching for.
“What can I say?” he says, tossing me a cheeky smile. “I got the view this morning, so ...” He shrugs his shoulders making all those perfect muscles bunch and gleam. “Your turn to enjoy.”
Isaac dives in the pool then, showering me in a spray of water that I swear sizzles into steam when it hits my skin. Isaac comes up for air right in front of me, his dark hair wet and his bare shoulders painted in the teal colors of the skyline.
“You coming in?” he asks, one of his hands finding my foot under the water. Our eyes lock and I don’t move as his fingers dance slowly over my ankle. The water isn’t cold anymore, and though his fingers barely touch me, the feather of heat that aches up my legs is the most erotic thing I’ve felt in weeks. Hell, months maybe.
He watches me as the pad of his hand slides around my ankle and up the under-side of my calf. It’s so delicate, his fingers teasing the sensitive space behind my knees, forcing me to resist reacting, even though my pussy is throbbing.
“What do you want?” I whisper, caught by his look that promises pleasure—and not the sweet kind. My bikini bottoms dampen with the thought of being flipped over in the shallow end, bent against the pool edge and taken from behind. How delicious would it be to feel the hard dig of tile scraping against my hip bones as Isaac lifts my ass out of the water till he sees my aching pussy glistening against the water’s surface? The position would be uncomfortable and amazing, with my torso bent forward and my palms flat against the poolside, my tits swinging across the tile, my thighs spread as he positions his—
I’m yanked forward!
Into the pool.
I hit the water with a shriek as cold water douses every hot ember of my skin. Fucking hell! Who doesn’t heat a pool! My whole body riots against the punch of ice, the skin so tight it hurts, my nipples fisting into knots that have me practically screaming.
“Jesus fucking Christ, that’s cold!” I cry out as I surface. The gauzy beach wrap clings to my body in a swath of strangling weeds, tangled in a hundred directions all over me. I quickly untie the damn thing and toss it out of the pool. It smacks against the tile in a wet slap next to Isaac’s discarded jeans.
I tread water, quickly, feeling naked even though I’m still in my bikini, each of my limbs wracked with goosebumps.
“What the hell was that?” I snap, whipping around to find him smiling at me broadly like an amused child.
“You’re the one who wanted to ‘feel the contrast,’” he tosses back, swimming to the side of the pool and reaching for the whiskey bottle. He takes a generous gulp before offering it to me. I know it’s a bad idea, but I swim over to him anyway, needing the heat. I take the bottle and lift it to my mouth, knowing that if I get any drunker I’ll start acting on my naughty imaginings. Do I really want that, especially with Dom in the other room?
Suddenly, I’m angry. What the fuck is Dom doing? Why did he desert me out here with his sex-pot of a friend? No man in their right mind would leave a woman they’re into with Isaac. Look at him! He’s a Greek god, with a wicked smile that promises Mount-Olympus-sized orgasms. If Dom actually liked me, he’d never leave me out here with his friend! Which means there’s only one logical conclusion ...
I toss back a hot swig of whiskey, letting it coat my throat with a reckless boldness, before replacing the bottle on the tile and turning to Isaac. His eyes darken for a second, reacting to whatever he sees in my gaze, and I cup the water next to me and launch a giant splash at him. He laughs and I use the time to dip under the surface and swim away. Only, he’s on my heels before I make it to the other end of the pool, his thick fingers catch my waist and twist me toward him. We swirl underwater, his hands branding my stomach. I gasp when we surface, laughing as I try to break away from him, pushing against his shoulders and splashing. But his arms are strong and wrapping me, and the squirming knot we bind ourselves together in has me hot with the friction of our slipping bodies.
Suddenly my back hits the wall of the pool, my shoulder blades scraping against the cold tile—then my thighs, my ass, my spine—they all press against the slick coldness, my body shivering as my heart races. Isaac lets go of my waist only to lift his muscled arms out of the water and cage me in against the pool.
“I’m not like Dom,” he says, his cocky smile cu
rling his lip. “When I want something I go after it.”
I look him in the eye and try to seem unphased, despite the fact that my legs want to wrap around his hips and ask him to prove it. Instead, I lift my arms up out of the water and drape them on either side of the pool ledge, the position arching my back so I’m open and prone, my tits lifting up to skim the water’s surface.
“Good,” I say hotly, relishing the way his eyes rake down my body, and I wonder how exactly he goes after what he wants. Is he the kind of man who will follow through and kiss me; or will he forget the pretense and simply peel back the cups of my bikini and start sucking on my tits?
His eyes return to mine and his gaze is unmistakable – he’s going to fuck me.
Beautifully. Completely.
And in this pool.
I inhale sharply, disarmed by the clench in my pussy that aches for him to tear off my bikini bottoms and get to it already.
Only he doesn’t move, not quickly, not in the way my body is aching for him to. Instead, he watches me before pulling himself an inch closer—just an inch—just enough for my aching nipples to brush against his chest and release a sharp moan from my lips. The zip of ecstasy shoots through my extremities, making me close my eyes and roll my head back. Damn! That was barely anything, but my core is pounding.
When I open my eyes, Isaac is slightly above me and dominating, as if he’s waiting for me to ask for more. Except each pass of his chest against my nipples is a tiny stroke that makes my pussy throb and my imagination soar—what would it feel like to have his mouth on my skin? To feel his lips on my tits? A tiny smile hitches the edge of his mouth as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
My mouth falls open at the tight ball of electricity that winds in my breasts, and our eyes catch as if he knows exactly how intense this is. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move his hands to satisfy me. Instead he makes me wait. He makes me sit here and see how much can I take. How long? is the question his eyes ask. How much can you take before you ask me to touch you?