by Orton, D. L.
The doorbell rings, and Lucky bounds out of my lap. I stuff the note and shell back in my pocket and then stand up.
It’s probably just the FedEx guy, but it’s Isabel’s digs, and I don’t want to ruffle any feathers, so I open the bathroom door and peek in. She’s singing as she runs her fingers through her soapy hair, and I listen for a moment, enjoying the sweet timbre of her voice.
“Hey, Iz,” I call out. “Are you expecting company?”
She peeks out the shower door. “No. Why?”
I gesture with my head. “Doorbell. Want me to get it?”
“Yeah, sure.” She gives me an amused smile. “No need to ask next time.”
“Okay.”
The doorbell rings twice more.
She runs her gaze down my body. “Or you could just ignore it and hop in the shower with me.”
I laugh. “Believe me, I’d love to, but the doctor said no physical activity for eight weeks, and you have thirty-four days to go.”
“A shower does not qualify as strenuous exercise, Diego.”
“With you, it would.”
She laughs and steps back behind the glass. “I hope this remote cabin of yours is worth the trip, Captain America.”
“It is. You’re going to love the view.” I watch her slide her soapy hands across her breasts and down her body, the translucent glass obscuring the details but not the intent. She starts singing again, something about “hunger for your touch.”
There’s a loud banging on the front door, and Lucky skitters down the hallway.
“Okay, okay. I’m coming.” I close the bathroom door and then stride across the living room, my cock definitely up for taking a shower with Iz.
Down, boy. We’ve got five more weeks of torture.
“And it’s not as if she’s trying to make it any easier.”
I open the front door, still thinking about Isabel’s naked body—and stare into an older version of the face I regularly see in my nightmares. It’s been fifteen years since I saw him last, but I would recognize that asshole anywhere.
It’s Isabel’s ex-husband, Dave.
He’s wearing an expensive suit, but his hair is thinning and that six-pack he was always showing off has gone a bit flabby. His eyes get wide when he sees me. “Sandwich man! Fancy meeting you here. Didn’t take you long to come sniffing after my leftovers, did it?”
“Go fuck yourself, Dave.”
“Thanks for the warm welcome, Domingo. Hey, what happened to your forehead? Looks like plastic surgery gone wrong.” He scans the living room. “Izzy-Bee around? I need to talk to her.”
“No.” I block the doorway with my arm and then notice the Tesla SportX parked out in front. There’s a platinum blonde sitting in the passenger seat, typing on her cell phone. She doesn’t look a day over twenty, and if the carpet matches the drapes, I’m Elon Musk.
She glances up at us and calls out, “You left your phone in the car, cupcake.”
I laugh. “Cupcake?”
“Get out of my way, dickface.” He shoulders past me. “That her in the shower? Damn if I don’t have perfect timing. She always was a good fuck—even if I could never get her to shut that smartass mouth of hers.”
The shower turns off.
I stand there trying to decide if I should hit him with a lamp, stab him with the fireplace poker, or just knee him in the balls.
Isabel peeks out of the bathroom, her damp hair tousled. “Who was it?”
“Hey, doll.” Dave steps between us.
She recoils. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Came to see you, of course.” He turns to me. “How about you do us a favor and go make lunch? Mommy and daddy need to talk.”
I take a step toward him, my fists clenched.
“Don’t take the bait, Diego.” Isabel steps out of the bathroom wearing only a towel. “He’s not worth the effort.”
Dave lets his gaze slide down her body, the corners of his mouth twisting up. “How about a quick fuck for old time’s sake?”
Isabel lets out a disbelieving huff. “Wait in the living room, Dave. And don’t touch anything.”
“Your loss, doll.”
She steps into her bedroom and then glances back at me. “Could you make sure he doesn’t steal anything, please? I’ll be right out.” She locks the door.
Dave strides past me and peers into Isabel’s office. “Nice place she’s got here—for a rental. Any idea where she keeps her laptop?”
“No.” I pinch the shoulder of his suit jacket and pull him toward the living room. “Out.”
“Yeah, okay.” He walks past me, pausing to straighten a photograph of Isabel with the scientists at Frozen Ark. “Maybe you could convince her to sign over her research and her patent portfolio. If she does, I’ll throw you a bone so the two of you can upgrade.” He turns and gives me a once-over, as if he’s actually seeing me for the first time. “My prototype biodome has more class than this rabbit hutch.”
“Don’t you mean Isabel’s biodome?”
“That’s not what it says on the label, amigo, but in any case, it sure beats this shit.”
I step forward and grab him by the lapels.
“No offense.” He holds up his hands. “I’m sure you’re rich enough to buy her a mansion.” He pulls away from me and strolls back into the living room. “Probably just driving that piece of junk parked on the driveway to fool the tax man.”
I shove him backwards. “Get out.”
“Whoa there, sandwich man. This ain’t your battle.”
“It is now, you clueless prick. Get out or I’m calling the police. And won’t that bimbo in your car be impressed when they slap a restraining order on you.”
“That bimbo earns more in a day than you do in a year.”
“Who knew sleeping with the boss paid that well?” I pick up the fireplace poker and point it at him. “Now get the hell out, or I’m going to get blood all over that pretentious suit of yours.”
“Okay, okay.” He backs up to the door. “Just tell Isabel that I came to get the release papers. If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll sign them before things get nasty.”
“She’s not giving you anything, you bastard.” I take a step toward him, brandishing the poker. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, things have already gotten nasty.”
He opens the door and slips through. “Fucking wetback.”
I walk over and lock the door. “Pompous ass.”
“That was impressive.”
I turn around, still wielding the poker.
Isabel is leaning against her bedroom door with Lucky purring in her arms. “I see you handle your weapon well.”
“I have been known to keep my tip up.”
She gives me a sad smile. “I’m going to have to give him what he wants, Diego. He’s run all his competitors out of business. If I want my research to do any good, I have nowhere else to turn.”
“We’ll worry about that tomorrow.” I set down the metal rod and put my arms around her. “Right now, let’s go see the cabin. Lucky wants to live with you, and so do I.”
Chapter 6
Isabel: Playing With Fire
I slip in behind him while he’s brushing his teeth and wrap my arms around his waist, my lips resting against his shoulder blade. I study him in the mirror, the only sound the soft rap of rain on the dark cabin windows.“Do you have any idea what day it is?”
He rinses his mouth, sets his toothbrush down, and meets my eyes. “Friday?”
I glare at him and then slide my hands across his chest, over the muscles in his arms, and onto the waistband of his jeans, letting my gaze follow my touch. “Guess again.” I undo the top button and slip my hand inside. “Pro tip: It involves the number fifty-seven.”
He closes his eyes, a smile flickeri
ng on his lips. “Um... National Ketchup Day?”
I pull my hand away, but he grabs my wrist and looks at me over his shoulder. “And we have a lot of catching-up to do.” He turns in place, sets my hand back on his chest, and pulls my hips against his. “Starting tomorrow. By my count, you’re one day short of the doctor-ordered eight-pack.”
“What are you, the number police?”
“I suppose I could let you off with just a warning—assuming you plan to behave. In any case, I need to take a shower before we play spin the ketchup bottle.”
I flick my fingernail across his nipple. “And what if I can’t wait?”
He grabs my hand and kisses it. “Don’t get saucy with me, miss. I’m afraid you’ll just have to mustard the courage.”
“Oh my god, that was awful.” I push him away. “Go take your shower. But you’d better hurry or I might have to misbehave.”
“I would relish it.”
I laugh and lean against the sink, watching him languidly undo the buttons on his jeans. “God, you look hot.”
He wiggles his butt as he takes them off, and then swings his underwear around his index finger and tosses it into the laundry basket.
I laugh. “Very sexy.”
He flutters his eyelashes. “I’ll take that as a condiment.”
“You would.”
He reaches into the shower and turns on the cold water, adding just a hint of hot, and then steps behind the translucent glass. I watch him run his hands across his shoulders and chest, looking forward to doing the same.
Exactly eight weeks ago tonight, I was in the ER, hugging Lucky to my chest and watching Diego get stitches. The whole time the doctor was sewing up his forehead, and then his arm, and finally his hand, the nurses were teasing him about saving me—as if he planned the whole thing just to get my attention—but they were all swooning over how romantic it was too. After Diego got a tetanus shot, he pulled out the gold rings, told everyone the story of how he got them, and then proposed to me.
When I said yes, the whole place erupted with applause.
I exhale and walk over to the bed, twisting the golden band around my finger. Lucky is curled up on the foot of the bed, and I run my hand across her silky fur. “He saved us both, kitty girl.”
She lets out a contented squeak.
“My sentiments exactly.”
I gaze over at the gorgeous man in my shower, wondering how I survived so long without him. While I have been practicing breathing without coughing, Captain America has been transforming our secluded cabin into a self-sufficient fortress. This morning, he was up on the roof wiring up the new solar panels, and then he spent most of the afternoon connecting them to a row of car batteries in the basement. The guy’s ordered reinforced windows, on-demand hot water heaters, a rainwater filtration system, and high-efficiency appliances. He even asked me about buying a gun, but I flatly refused. If things get that bad, there won’t be any bullets, and I’d have to be an idiot to fill up my basement with incendiaries.
I watch him glide soapy hands through his hair, humming to myself. When he picks up his razor and begins shaving his face, a lush wetness forms between my thighs. It’s been forever since I felt such a compelling desire to be with a man, and I’ve been suffering through the eight-week exercise ban just as much as he has, perhaps more.
I pull off his old sweater and crawl under the down comforter, looking forward to being in his arms.
A minute later, he slips in behind me, cuddles up against my back, and slides his hands around me. I inhale the intoxicating scent of bar soap mixed with his sandalwood aftershave. “Mmm, you smell good.”
He tickles the back of my neck with his nose and then kisses me. “I can’t believe you’re actually here in bed with me, living with me. It’s a dream come true.”
Kitty girl meows and we both laugh.
He moves his fingertips up my thigh and across my hip, drawing lazy circles. “Do you think there’s a universe where we didn’t break up the first time, Iz?”
I snuggle against his chest. “And had two kids who jumped on the bed and dressed up the cat and made us so happy we cried?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“I don’t know, Diego. I wasn’t ready to have kids back then.” I trace the outline of his hand. “And we couldn’t figure out how to make things work between us.”
He’s quiet for a bit, stroking my skin and hair. “Well, I can’t imagine a universe where I loved anyone but you. So somewhere, somehow, I think we got it right.”
I take a ragged breath, tears filling my eyes.
He props his head up with his hand and kisses me on the point of my shoulder. “Did you hear about the insomniac who swallowed a spoon?”
I give him a dubious look.
He bumps his hips against me. “He hasn’t stirred since.”
“Hah.”
He hands me a tissue from the nightstand. “Have I told you recently that I’m madly in love with you?”
I take a deep breath and then wipe my face. Even in my darkest moments, he is able to bring me back to the light, make me believe that his love is enough to sustain us both. “How do you remember all those terrible jokes?”
“I read Increasing Your Brainpower by Sarah Bellum.”
I laugh.
“But speaking of spoons, I feel obligated to inform you that spooning often leads to forking, and forking can lead to, ah, storking, so maybe we should talk about birth control.”
I shift over onto my back and pick up his hand, playing with his matching ring. “I haven’t had a regular period in over a year, Diego, so the point is moot.”
He lets out a disbelieving snort. “Given what you told me eight weeks ago, I would have to be an idiot to fall for that one, Isabel.”
“Well it’s the truth, Captain America. And besides, it would be a whole different story if I got pregnant now.” I stare at him for a moment, and then look away.
“Yes, it would be.” He rolls over to face me. “And I brought it up because I don’t want to get you pregnant by accident.” He taps on my stomach with one finger. “I’ve been thinking about the possibilities too, but I think we should hold off for a while.”
“Don’t tell me we’re going to play Scrabble all night because you’re worried about getting me pregnant.”
“No. I’m concerned about your health, Iz.” He pulls me over on top of him and takes my head in both his hands, glancing from my eyes to my mouth and back. “There are condoms in the drawer, but maybe we should play Scrabble tonight.”
I sit up, straddling his hips. “Does that mean you don’t want to have sex with me?”
He picks up my hand and kisses it. “It means I want to be sure you’re back to one hundred percent before we start wrestling over who gets to be on top, or who has to come first, or who wants to fuck all night because she’s too worked up to go to sleep—”
I feel my face flush. “I told you, I’m fine, Cap—”
He puts his finger against my lips. “Shh. Just listen for a second. Please.”
“Since when did you get so bossy?”
“I want to be sure we’re making the right choice here, Isabel, and considering what I had to go through to get you to come home with me, I don’t want to lose you again.”
“Thanks for saving me. It was extremely hot.”
“Yeah,” he says, half-smiling, “you always did like to play with fire.”
I run my fingers across his chest. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll let you call the shots tonight, do all the heavy lifting as it were.”
He smiles. “Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
“But no gloating.”
“Shit. I should get that in writing.”
I smack him on the chest. “You’re gloating.”
“I am not.
I’m enjoying the possibilities.” He takes hold of my shoulders. “Are you sure?”
“About having sex or letting you be in control?”
He pulls me down on top of him. “Come here.”
Chapter 7
Diego: If I Had Any Patients
I tease her—kissing her on the mouth but refusing to let her kiss me back—until she pushes me away and sits up on my hips. “That’s it. You’re fired.”
I slide one fingertip across her lower lip. “You’re not going to win this one, hun.”
“Because you don’t want to kiss me?”
“Yeah,” I say, chuckling. “I can’t believe it took you this long to figure it out.”
She smacks me on the chest, but I grab her wrist, and then leisurely kiss the palm of her hand. “I have been dreaming about this for years, Isabel, and I want to take it slow.” I glance up at her pinched expression and stifle a smile. “And I know that’s going to be difficult for you—but I intend to make it worth your while.”
“What if I fall asleep on you?”
I laugh. “I’ll take my chances.”
She twists up her mouth. “Well then, what if I like to be in control?”
“So what’s new?” I take her shoulders, pull her against my chest, and then roll over on top, supporting my weight with my elbows. “Not that I’m complaining.”
She slides her fingers roughly into my hair and pulls my head down. “I think you should kiss me now.”
Shit, I’ve missed her.
I place my lips against hers, teasing her again, but the moment she tries to push me away, I kiss her with my whole body, wanting to please her, wanting to be the one she can’t live without.
She moans softly, and the sound reaches down and twists up my insides, making me ache to have more of her. She entwines her legs with mine, pressing her hip against me, and we become lost in the compelling need of that kiss.
When I try to pull my mouth away, she tightens her grip, and I smile, our lips still touching. “I’m not going anywhere.”