“Not as good as you feel,” he said, sliding deep again. He stayed in that moment for a while—embedded deep, lingering. Letting her breath waft over his face, the spicy scent of her perfume permeate his every sense.
He took control and she let him, holding on to his shoulders for purchase as he thrust his hips. He drew cries from her throat and when her head fell back, he laid a row of kisses over her neck. Those cries wound into whimpers of delight as he moved. He couldn’t hold on to his release much longer.
Hand tight around the back of her neck, his fingers digging into one of her plush ass cheeks, he pumped once, then twice before spilling into the condom with a sound that might qualify as a roar.
That buzz of electricity he always felt with Isa spread like fire through his veins, across his chest, and down to his toes. He dropped his head onto her shoulder and caught his breath, one hand still around her hip, the other flat on the wall behind her. He was spent and not because of the sex or the challenge of standing while doing it, but because Isa spent him in a way he had never experienced.
Heart and soul.
He lifted his face to kiss her. She smelled of spice and citrus. She tasted of oaky, buttery chardonnay. With her scent, flavor, and pussy surrounding him, he couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be than right here, right now with her.
“Mmm,” came her soft hum, a smile following. A shiver shook her.
“Cold, or aftershocks?” He palmed her bare shoulder and rubbed one of her arms to warm her, his chest swelling with undiluted pride. He’d wanted to show this fantastic woman exactly what he could do for her—and he had.
“Would you believe both?” she asked.
“I would.” He pushed her hair from her shoulder and smoothed his palms down her arms again, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind. “How about a bath?”
He hadn’t made much use of the tub in the master bedroom, but now was a good time to start.
“And candles?”
He thought for a second. “No promises, but maybe.”
“Bubbles?”
“For you, anything.” He held her eyes as he slipped out of her body. A satisfied groan left both their throats. “Damn, Sable.”
There was more to say, but he couldn’t find the words. More to say about how different she was, how different she was making him. How differently the time passed whenever they were together.
He offered a hand and she accepted. Side by side they walked to the bedroom at the end of the hall.
* * *
Isa lifted her foot, wrapped her toes around the faucet, and spun the hot water off.
“That is a talent.” Eli’s lips closed over her ear as his hand slipped through the water—with bubbles—and over her belly. “You have many.”
Warm and luxurious, the water slid like silk between them. She’d tied her hair up, so it wasn’t in the way when he moved his mouth from her ear to kiss a trail up her neck.
“I didn’t know you were hiding this bathtub.” A candle flickered at the corner of the tub. “Or a jar candle.”
He grunted against her damp skin before tonguing her earlobe. Even though he was turning her brains to mush again, Isa pondered the candle. It obviously wasn’t his. It was pink, and “sensual vanilla rose” was an odd scent for a Marine.
“Maybe Crystal left it here,” she said.
His lips halted their exploration.
She shouldn’t bring up Crystal Billings, but she couldn’t help it. Seeing him sitting across from a woman who used to share his bed—his life—had sent Isa’s quills standing on end. Oh, she’d maintained her politeness and gave him privacy, but Isa hadn’t stopped thinking about the one woman Eli had shared his home with. This home.
“Maybe,” he said, finding her hand beneath the water and linking their fingers. Soap bubbles slid as she tightened her grip and realized much in the same way he’d found her beneath the suds, Eli had sneaked past her defenses and into her heart.
“You didn’t tell me what the two of you talked about.”
He hummed.
She wanted to know what that hum meant. “What did you talk about?”
“The past. The present,” Eli answered after a deep breath. Isa thought he wasn’t going to say any more until he did. “She asked if I was happy.”
Isa’s heart pounded a hectic beat and she dug deep to find the courage to ask him how he’d answered. But there was no need. He told her anyway.
“Happy is an elusive animal for me. But this…I like this.” A droplet fell from the faucet and hit the bathwater with a splash. Eli linked his free hand with hers and crossed both her arms over her breasts as he enclosed her in a hug. His voice was deep and reverent, vibrating against the shell of her ear when he said, “I like you, Isa.”
I like you. Her heart suffered a tiny fissure at that pronouncement, because while it wasn’t bad news, it wasn’t the extent of what she felt for him.
“I should hope you like me.” After making love to her against the wall…Another thought zapped her brain and this time it tumbled out of her mouth uncensored. “We weren’t making like in there.”
Eli breathed a long, low sigh. Isa kept her arms folded, trying to imagine his facial expression. Dread? Anger?
“No,” he finally agreed. “We weren’t.”
The faucet dripped again. Eli’s hands found her shoulders and massaged gently. He was trying to be kind, or maybe he was attempting consolation, but either way it frustrated her. He only gave as much as he wanted; then he retreated. She shrugged his hands away and started to stand, but Eli cupped her breasts and pulled her back against his chest.
His beard brushed her shoulder, lips kissing her shoulder.
“Sable.”
“What?” She could absolutely throttle her heart. Didn’t it know any better than to fall for a man who was as emotionally inaccessible as Eli Crane?
Eli turned her so she was on her side and facing him. Breasts pressed to his chest, her own arm captive against her body, she surrendered when he dipped his lips to kiss her. By the time their tongues were gently exploring, she was measuring his heartbeats against her own.
Too soon, she lost the heat of his mouth. He studied her face before speaking, a completely forlorn expression on his own. When he spoke, it was a plea.
“Give me time.”
If she wasn’t sure she was in love with him before, she was sure now. Because learning he was still holding back all but shattered her.
* * *
They were the only words he could push out of his throat, and saying them made him half sick. It wasn’t what Isa wanted to hear. Hell, he was sure it wasn’t what any woman wanted to hear. But it was his truth.
She wanted him to open and he’d opened as much as he was capable. Crystal had pointed out tonight that he had a problem with going all in. He hadn’t liked hearing it, but she hadn’t been wrong. He didn’t know how to go all in unless he started chipping away at it bit by bit. Maybe commitment was a lot like relearning to walk—it took practice.
The rest would come, or it wouldn’t. And he had no earthly idea if that meant Isa would leave him before he had a chance to clear out the shit in his head and be able to evaluate what they have. But he wanted to try. She deserved a real promise, not one he blurted out to smooth over an awkward moment.
“I’m here,” he told her, hoping that explanation sufficed. His fingertips stroked down her cheek and over her full bottom lip.
“I’m here, too,” she said.
He nearly collapsed with relief. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They didn’t make any further promises. There were no accusations, no future plans. The moment was in perfect present tense.
Right now.
He could handle that.
Chapter 17
Money, money, moneeeyyyy!” Chloe was singing and waving a fan of envelopes in front of her face. “We have checks, mamasita!”
“This is why I pay you the big bucks.” Isa finishe
d stirring the cream into her cup of coffee and took a sip. “I’m not adept in convincing past-dues to pony up.”
Chloe frowned.
“What?”
“You okay?” Chloe dropped the envelopes on her desk, then turned back to Isa, hazel eyes assessing.
“Sure, why?” Isa shrugged. She was okay. She felt okay.
Kind of okay.
Her assistant wrinkled her nose. “It’s the boy, isn’t it? Cranky Crane did something horrible over the weekend and it being Monday, I don’t know what it is yet. Boys suck.”
“He didn’t do anything.” Isa let out a weak laugh. Wasn’t that the truth? She’d fallen in love with him; he’d remained unchanged.
“Isa.” Chloe’s eyes bled sincerity, Talk to me, written in their depths. But then she offered her own theory. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
“Pfft!” Isa started to lie her way out of that but her smile chipped at the corners. With a sigh, she set aside her coffee mug aside and sagged against the wall by the door. Sable Concierge was empty, the phones turned off for lunch. Might as well spill her guts.
“I’m in love with him,” Isa admitted. Saying it out loud made it realer than before. Scarier too.
“Of course you are.”
“You’re not surprised?”
Chloe shrugged.
“I haven’t dated anyone in three years and then the absolutely wrong guy comes along and I fold like an origami goose.”
“Since you started working for him, even when he was pissing you off, you have floated around here like you were wearing hover-board high heels. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you this happy and I’ve worked with you closely for most of those three years. You were determined to take Eli on as a client and walk away. The thing is, you never walked away.”
“I couldn’t.” She could have, but she sure as hell hadn’t wanted to.
“You look…” Chloe tilted her head and studied Isa. “Well, not sad, but definitely not hover-board happy.”
“There’s a reason for that.” A good one. “Only one of us was bitten by the love bug.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. I didn’t tell him how I felt. If I did, he’d…I don’t know what he’d do.” Isa straightened her posture. “I’m trying to be casual and let things unfold.”
“You don’t want to pressure him.” Chloe’s tone was agreeable.
“He’s had enough pressure.” From Crystal pushing him to build a future with her he wasn’t prepared for, to losing the two friends who saved his life, to his family good-naturedly trying to help him at every turn.
“I’m a strong woman,” Isa said. “I can have an affair with a man and not build castles in the sky.”
“Yes, you can.” Again, Chloe’s comment was generic.
“But?”
“It’s not my place.”
“Chloe. I hope you know we’re friends.”
She smiled. “I know. I just don’t want to discourage you when you’ve found your way.”
Isa pursed her lips before saying, “A good manager is able to point out flaws pragmatically and succinctly. A good manager tells the truth. And so do good friends.”
“Okay.” Chloe looked Isa squarely in the eyes. “You have the right to tell the man you’re sharing dinners and evenings and overnights with how you feel, and he has the right to react to it. Don’t keep your heart quiet for too long or you’ll end up in love alone.”
“Wow.” Wise words.
“But.” Chloe walked over to Isa and gripped her forearms, smiling kindly. “For now, enjoy yourself. Enjoy what the two of you have. You don’t have to tell him this second. Pick your timing.”
“After sex seems like a good strategy. He’d probably agree to anything,” Isa joked.
Chloe chuckled. “You’ve got this.”
She did have this. Maybe she was rushing to make this work out when, like Eli said, all they needed was a little time.
“Lunch at Romano’s?” Isa offered, moving to fetch her purse. Amazing how one conversation had left her feeling better.
“Definitely.” Chloe struck out for the door and snagged her own purse on the way. “I’ll drive.”
Isa didn’t have everything figured out, but Chloe was right. When the time was right, Isa would tell him how she felt. Until then, she’d have fun with him. She deserved nothing less.
* * *
The soldier’s home Zach had been working on was outside of Chicago in a manicured neighborhood. The unique positioning of a double lot gave the crew plenty of room to expand, which was why the addition had gone smoothly.
Eli had made the drive out this morning to meet Brent and his family. Brent was a double amputee having lost both legs to a roadside bomb. He had four smiling kids—three girls and a boy—and a wife who couldn’t keep the tears from falling when she thanked both Eli and Zach for acceptance into the program.
Brent and families like his were the reason Eli was doing this—not for the kudos or the way his chest felt so full it might burst, but because without Refurbs, Brent never would have had such a speedy response to his physical needs.
As Eli drove away from the family’s newly improved home, a heavy dose of satisfaction swept through him. Many more soldiers like Brent were going to get the help they deserved. He’d done the right thing starting the charity.
There were more projects on the way, and with the details of those projects being handled by his new manager, Allen, Eli was free to pursue the next phase of his life.
Crane Hotels. Back to where he started.
One summer before he’d joined the military, he’d spent fifty hours a week following his father, better known as “Big Crane” by his employees, around at the office.
Crane Hotels, with locations dotted across the nation, was a successful chain that rivaled others like it. Their father had taken it from a few buildings in Chicago to nationwide, and after the Crane name was an established profit machine, Reese had sailed in and run it with ease. Tag had also carved out his place.
It was Eli’s turn to step up. He was ready.
He navigated out of the Brent’s neighborhood and onto the main road, wondering how he’d arrived at a crossroads with Crane Hotels. Eli had never been a man who ran from hard situations. He ran into them. He’d fought for his country. He’d earned medals for bravery. How could suiting up and going to work scare him down to his bones when he’d once heard a bullet whiz by his ear and had still managed to pull a search and rescue?
But this wasn’t war. This was life.
Wars ended. Life just kept on going.
The same way he’d kept going. When he came home to his old/new life, he didn’t want to go back to Crane Hotels. Upper management had always been a forgone conclusion for his brothers but not for Eli. He’d seen a different path for himself—a soldier’s path. Now he was buttoning up his past and stepping fully into his present. Crystal had moved on, and as he’d recently learned, had moved on before she’d rejected him. Refurbs was under new management, and other than visiting families or checking in on operations, Eli wasn’t pouring hours into the charity the way he used to. And there was Isa…
Ah, Isa.
Talk about being scared down to my bones.
God help him, what he felt for her scared him senseless. He didn’t dare label what they had. He didn’t dare make a single plan involving promises he wasn’t equipped to keep. He didn’t dare risk losing her before he’d practiced being there for her—all of him. Not just part of him.
He missed her no longer working with him. Hell, who was he kidding? He missed her and he’d seen her, what? Two days ago?
“Good God,” he muttered to himself to stop his back-and-forth thoughts.
Isa was independent, strong, and self-aware. She didn’t whine or guilt him. She didn’t overload him with pressure. She was there, present in the moment like he was.
So why the questions?
Because she wanted more. He saw it when he’d he
ld her to him in the bathtub and explored the depths of her dark, honest eyes. He’d never evaluated a relationship before. He’d never wondered “what next?” But when it came to Isa, that’s exactly what he’d been doing. And “what next?” went beyond dinner plans or getting a soft whimper of satisfaction to exit her lush mouth. This morning in the shower he’d had a passing thought about how the holidays were rapidly approaching.
Would Isa come with him to Thanksgiving dinner? Or spend Christmas morning at his dad’s house?
He wasn’t sure. After all they’d shared in a short time—the way she’d opened to him and him to her—shouldn’t he know?
He pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his sunglasses, his heart thudding and his mind racing. It’s like he had fucking PTSD where relationships were concerned. Thinking about someone being around for always and forever was like remembering that dazed, ear-ringing moment when he was on the ground after too close a call with a grenade.
No. That wasn’t true.
The grenade had been a different daze altogether—a moment he’d rewound in his head over and over and had tried to rewrite, had tried to make sense of. Whenever he rewound memories of Isa, it wasn’t to rewrite their reality, only savor it—to replay her smile or the way she sighed his name.
You want to do right by her, dumbass.
The thought in Eli’s head came in the form of his late friend Benji’s voice. Eli snapped out of his deep thoughts to find himself at the corner of Lightwood and Sandstone—near Benji’s former residence.
“All in,” Eli said aloud. He turned right on Sandstone and drove up the neat, tree-lined street. Chicago was cool and crisp as autumn settled over the city, but the sun was bright and bold, damn near blinding as he tried to make out the numbers on the street.
Finally he saw the house. Number 502. And here he sat, no announcement, no warning.
Before his courage failed him, he parked along the curb and climbed out of his car. Michelle Hough, Benji’s widow, was inside. She walked past the wide kitchen window, pot in hand—cooking dinner.
He debated calling, and for a second, leaving, but a stronger force propelled him forward. As he walked up the steps that cut into the grass, he spotted a high chair and came to a stunned halt. A baby girl sat in it and Eli smiled in spite of himself when she lifted her chubby hand into the air. At the funeral, there wasn’t a baby or a baby bump hinting that Michelle was expecting.
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