by Deanna Chase
“Isabelle!” she heard someone shout and the connection with Esme was broken.
“Isabelle!” Mac said again. “Can you hear me?”
Slowly, the basement solidified out of the gray haze that surrounded her. Mac was holding her upright, had grabbed her forearm, and the paramedics had arrived.
“Mac?” Isabelle whispered through dry lips.
“Yes,” he said. “I’ve got you.”
“Did you get that?” she asked, as his face swam into view.
“Yes,” he said. “The description’s already going out. I’ll get you with an artist when you’re up to it.”
“I’m up to it,” she said, though her voice was a little thick and the headache hadn’t gone away. Everything was coming back into focus, and she realized Mac had his arms around her. “I’m okay,” she said quietly. “Really.”
Slowly, Mac let her go.
The paramedics were working quickly. A gurney had been set up and Esme already had an intravenous drip.
Mac helped Isabelle to stand so they could get out of the way, and she saw the giant wad of bandages that were strapped to Esme’s knee.
“That’s where the knife twisted,” Isabelle said, pointing a trembling finger. The paramedic nearest the knee looked up at her. “And for God’s sake, give her something for the pain.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Going to a hotel must be pretty hard for you,” Mac said as he opened the front door of Isabelle’s apartment for her.
Though at first he hadn’t believed her, and then he’d tried to explain away what she did, there could be no denying her ability. It was more than coincidence or good luck. But there had to be a scientific basis to it. DNA? Chemicals in the skin? Something in the way her brain functioned? He’d been peppering her with questions since they’d left the Olivos’s house.
As Isabelle passed him into her living room, she turned on the light switch.
“Hotels, restaurants,” she said, leaving her purse on the little table next to the door. “But the gloves make most things possible.”
He shut the door and locked it.
“Most things?” he asked, as he felt her hands trace the tops of his shoulders.
“You’d be surprised,” she said as he turned and her hands wrapped behind his neck, “how much you miss being able to touch people until you can’t.” His hands wrapped around her waist. “Or maybe you wouldn’t,” she said smiling.
“Then touch me,” he said. “Take off the gloves and touch me.”
Her face grew suddenly serious.
“I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” she said.
Slowly, he ran his hands around to her back, then up and over her shoulders, and then along her arms until he was reaching behind his own neck and feeling her gloves.
“Mac, don’t,” she said, though she didn’t move her hands. “Please. I don’t think we’re ready.” Though her amber eyes were soft and watching his, something in the tone of her voice made him stop. Not ready? Ready for what? She smiled at what must have been a puzzled look on his face. “Just trust me on this, okay?”
It didn’t help that she had nice hands. He thought for an instant of the way she’d taken her glove off, finger by finger, just before she’d read Esme. Somehow he’d never thought of removing gloves as particularly sensual. But now, the thought of it–being able to feel her warm fingers on his skin–was positively distracting.
Isabelle was right. It wasn’t until you couldn’t have something that you realized how much you wanted it.
His phone chimed.
Reluctantly, he let her hands go and checked messages.
“The APB has been out for a couple hours but still no hits.” He scrolled down to read the other texts though he noticed that Isabelle hadn’t moved her hands. “Esme’s conscious and has corroborated your description. Ben sends his thanks. Yet again.” He turned the phone completely off and set it on the table next to her purse. “Now,” he said, sliding his hands around her waist and up her back. “Where was I?”
Isabelle immediately stepped into Mac’s embrace and wound her arms around his neck, relieved. The gloves didn’t seem to be a problem. Mac just didn’t seem to be bothered the way other men had been. He drew her close, gently laid his lips on hers, and she felt the back of her dress open as he tugged down the zipper. The press of his chest reminded her of seeing it, feeling it against her skin, and yet unable to know what it really felt like to skim her hands across it. And maybe because the gloves didn’t bother him, they bothered her more and more.
But as his hands slipped inside her dress and his lips gently pressed into hers, the thought of gloves quickly vanished. Ever since the reading with Esme, Mac had never left her side. He’d hovered close, letting Sharon take care of the crime scene while he took care of her.
And, at last, he believed her.
His kiss was tender, feathery light, as his moist breath washed over her lips. His hands were gentle, moving along her spine, pausing briefly to undo her bra. There was no hurry this time though the lengthy hardness of his arousal against her abdomen said he was more than ready. Instead, an implacable gentleness filled his every touch. His hands left her back to lightly hold her face and his kisses slowly left her mouth to drift back along her jaw and then down her neck. His touch was so light, it was almost unnerving. As his tongue danced along her skin, a tremor of anticipation shuddered up her spine. In one smooth movement, his fingers had lightly grasped the dress and bra straps at her shoulders and deftly shifted them off her and down to her elbows before she’d even realized what he was doing.
But as she lowered her arms to let the garments fall, he curved over her and suddenly his mouth was on her breast. She inhaled sharply at the moist, warm lips, sliding across the suddenly bare skin. The dress and bra stopped midway in their fall, caught between the press of their bodies. His breath poured over her exposed skin, flowing down her ribs. Slowly, his strong arms tightened around her waist, pressing her closer, as his mouth inched its way toward the already quivering tip. And with that maddeningly slow and steady pace, his tongue traced a wet circle entirely around it.
Isabelle found her hands bunching up the material of Mac’s jacket at his shoulders, as another shudder of anticipation seemed to run up the very center of her. Suddenly, his tongue flicked across the hardening nub and she gasped. He inhaled deeply, and she felt his shoulders tense.
“I love how you smell,” he said, between suckling kisses that enveloped the entire tip of her breast. “The way you taste.”
He leaned forward, curving her back, as he sucked her nipple completely into his mouth and slowly licked it with his entire tongue. As she let go a breathless gasp, the peak shivered erect in his mouth.
“Mmmm,” he murmured, the deep rumbling from his chest sending vibrations through the aching tip as the other hardened in empathy.
Suddenly, his tongue lashed into her, forcing her to come up on her toes and grab the back of his neck. Her backed arched wildly and her hips pushed hard into his erection. And as his lips closed around her and his mouth sucked furiously, the tip of his tongue pushed into the very center of the sensitive peak.
She whimpered, the sensation there something between pain and pure delight. But as he released her with a final tug and turned his attention to the other breast, it already ached. He gave it a testing, teasing flick of the tip of his tongue. Then, another, and another. Each quick stroke was molten, and each time she couldn’t help but whimper until finally he captured the quivering tip between his lips and gently bit.
“Oh god,” she gasped, as a tingling sensation erupted there.
She pushed at his shoulders, trying to gain some distance, pull the tortured nipple from his mouth, but nothing could move him. He gnawed at her, sucked, and licked and, without warning, her hips pulsed hard against his arousal. Finally, his mouth released her.
With one sweeping motion, Mac bent and picked up Isabelle from behind and strode quickly to the bedroom. Her breasts were incred
ibly sensitive, and he might have suckled them forever except for the straining arousal that threatened to burst. Gently, he lowered her to the bed, quickly stripped, and donned a condom.
She’d only just wriggled the dress and panties down to her knees when he climbed on the bed and tugged them the rest of the way down. The heels came off with the clothes and suddenly she was naked, except for the light, green gloves. Her body was no less stunning this time than the last, the pink flush of arousal suffusing her gleaming skin, even in the fading light of evening. The perfect mounds of her breasts rose and fell with her labored breathing. Her tight and flat tummy flexed with each breath and as he watched her hips settle back to the bed, he suddenly envisioned their bodies joined. Although he quickly lay his hips down between her spreading legs, he easily grasped her around the waist and rolled to his back, bringing her on top.
He wanted to watch her.
Although at first she seemed surprised to be there, her gloved hands quickly found his chest and she pushed herself upright. He watched her eyes follow her own hands as they explored his body. Her face registered everything: hunger and delight in equal measures, followed by a sudden, brief sadness as she looked at her gloves. Suddenly, he wished he couldn’t read her so easily and, just as suddenly, he needed to be with her, join with her, and feel himself fill her. His hands moved to her hips, shifting her backward and as she understood what he was doing, she raised up on her knees and over his erection.
He nearly closed his eyes as the moist, petal-soft folds of her entrance settled on his arousal’s engorged tip but, if he did that, he wouldn’t see Isabelle. He held her round and creamy hips in his hands, feeling her slowly descend, watching as she began to sheathe him. Slowly and indescribably sensually, her hips began a small pulse, barely noticeable, a tiny movement, but he felt it, in his hands, in his arousal, moving him with her. As she eased herself down on him, the pulses sped up. He watched as his swollen flesh slid into her, felt the tight tug of her, the warmth of her body surrounding him. His hands wanted to tug her down, feel her completely take him in, but the tiny pulses of her hips were still increasing. Her entire body seemed to vibrate, the soft swell of her breasts quivered, until at last she sank completely down on him.
Finally, he thrust upward, his hips lifting her, as her pulsing ground into him. Behind the flat tummy and the tight flesh between his hands, he pushed into the heated core of her. As she rose higher, her eyes closed and her perfect lips formed a soundless ‘oh.’
Long, dark strands of hair drifted over her breasts. He reached up, moved the silky waves behind her shoulders, and gently grasped the sweetly curved mounds. She gasped at his touch, still sensitive from what his mouth had done. He fondled the soft flesh, kneading and stroking in turn, as his hips relaxed and he thrust again–hard. An agonized gasp was forced from her, as he buried himself deep inside. Her receptive body enveloped him, and he pushed even higher, into the tight depths. In his palms, her pale pink buds pressed forward like taut pebbles. The pulsing of her hips ratcheted up a notch, as her head tilted backward and her back quickly arched. Her perfect skin shone in the dim light.
“Isabelle,” he whispered harshly, as his hips relaxed only to immediately thrust again.
He imbedded himself, plunging into the softness, driving into the pulsating center of her. His hands massaged and rubbed her breasts until the surging peaks could no longer be denied. As his fingers drew steadily toward them, the tiny pulsing of her hips crescendoed. Slowly, he squeezed the swollen beads, as Isabelle’s pulsing erupted into an undulation that made her entire body flex with abandon.
Isabelle sat back at the sudden heat that flooded between her legs just as Mac thrust. She felt her body lifted as the pumping of her hips ramped up. Mac’s bulging shaft drove upward, but only briefly, and then his hips relaxed. His fingers on her nipples were like electricity, and he quickly thrust again. The sweet pressure of the penetration welled up inside her, but again his hips relaxed. Rigid with desire, the peaks of her breasts throbbed in his grasp, the hard pumping of her hips tugging them. And as Mac pushed into her yet again, his fingers gently rolled the hard nubs.
A deep, shuddering breath escaped her lips and the rhythm of her hips faltered. Suddenly, Mac’s hands were on her hips, and he plunged deep into her just as he pulled her down.
“Oh god,” she moaned.
Her nipples tingled, and the place where she ached to be filled was finally full. She took all of him as he pushed up into her, his hands holding her hips firmly in place. Her sweet spot ground on him and her hips tried to take advantage of his thrusting body, involuntarily whipping back and forth as he settled back down. Desperate to stay with him, she widened her knees and leaned back with all her weight, her hands lightly resting on his thighs. But as she came down, he thrust upward even higher, lifting her body, arching her back with a penetration so sharp that air was forced from her lungs.
“Isabelle,” she heard him hiss, as his hips began to buck.
His fingers gripped her as he slammed upward, spearing deeply into her, forcing her to grunt as their bodies collided with a thud. Her abdomen contracted with the penetration, and her sweet spot panged with new need. No longer hers to control, her pelvis tried desperately to relieve the heightening tension in her mound before his hips relaxed. But it was too late, and again she tried to sink down on him, grind herself to completion. But no sooner had he reached bottom, than his hips shot upward.
The iron hard length of him surged into her very center, stretching her with a powerful fullness. Impaled on his swollen shaft, her knees left the bed. Her lower body erupted in a frenzied writhing, but his grip kept her joined to him as he kept pushing. Agonized gasps escaped her, and Mac’s breathing had become deep and harsh. There was no relent this time, no relaxation of his hips, only the melding of their bodies, his engorged flesh pushing at the walls of her. Her hands gripped his thighs and for one blinding moment she thought of ripping the gloves off, finally knowing the erotic feeling of his skin under her touch, joining with him completely. But at just the thought of it, her blood-rushing climax burst out of nowhere.
Isabelle held on for dear life as her body exploded in a paroxysm of convulsions. An overwhelming tidal wave of passion spread from their joining, sweeping through her sweet spot, engulfing her in a rush of sensation so intense that she cried out. Mac’s body went rigid beneath her, and then his hips flew into overdrive. He thrust repeatedly, moving hard into her, pounding upward, ever higher and ever faster. She dimly heard him grunting as his hammering thrusts compounded the pulsating, vibrating need in her. Suddenly she clenched ferociously on him.
Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through her thrashing body as Mac suddenly thickened inside her. His stiff flesh jerked one way and then the other as he surged into her, his hips gyrating wildly. Isabelle rode him, moved with him, his body in control and hers at the very edge of oblivion. But as her clench finally released, it was immediately replaced by another. Mac hissed, bucked upward, and his climax burst inside her. His arousal all but vibrated, throbbing over and over, rippling along the entire length of his shaft. He groaned in blissful agony as she rode new waves of passion, and let them sweep her over the edge. Her abdomen convulsed around him, the contraction taking her breath away, as the tension that had coiled finally snapped.
Rhythmic clenching took over, as her body spent itself in another rush of ecstasy. Her hips moved with him, pressing down to meet his every upward thrust. The contractions milked him, trying to drain him, as she savored the hard flesh still jerking inside. He grunted in sharp bursts until, finally, her convulsions ebbed.
Mac’s hips pulsed under her with erratic but smaller thrusts, though they still lifted her body. Suddenly lightheaded, she felt herself sway, but his hands were quickly at her back, pulling her toward him.
Though her small contractions still tightened around him, the climax had peaked, and Isabelle lay with relief on his muscled chest. His skin was hot against her cheek and his br
eathing heavy and labored. Strong arms wound around her and again her body rode his as his chest rose and fell, her head resting near his shoulder. Both gasping for air, their lower bodies shuddered in the last throes of completion until, eventually, they both lay still.
Complete and utter relief flowed over Isabelle, her body limp, her mind a blissful blank. Beneath her, Mac exhaled in a long ragged breath. His hands drifted up and down her spine, lightly stroking her back. But there was little time to think about the tender caress as a deep black oblivion began to take over. With the very last of her energy, she nuzzled against his throat and was asleep.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Not only was there the smell of brewing coffee, but that had to be toast and eggs.
God, that smells good.
Isabelle rolled over in the sheets, inhaling deeply and stretching. Suddenly though, she sat bolt upright. Had Mac handled the brewer, the toaster, the frying pan and, oh no, what about the refrigerator? It’d taken her years to work herself into a situation where she didn’t need to wear gloves at home.
As she leapt from the bed, she dragged the sheet with her and wrapped herself in it as she flew through the door and down the short corridor, past the bathroom.
“Mac!” she said, but stopped dead center at the kitchen door.
He was standing in his briefs and wearing a pair of latex gloves. It’d have been almost comical if he hadn’t been so incredibly male, his powerful body virtually on display. He had just finished spooning scrambled eggs onto two plates.
“Good morning,” he said, setting down the pan as he immediately strode over to her. “If I’d known coffee and eggs could get you to wear just a sheet, I’d have cooked sooner.” He wrapped his giant arms around her and lightly kissed her.
“You amaze me,” she said, laughing a little.
“And you haven’t even tried the eggs yet,” he said, smiling with her.