The Manhattan Encounter

by Addison Fox

  Yet here they were and he couldn’t wipe the damn grin off his face.

  He pulled her close as they cleared the landing, then rushed her in front of him down the hall toward his room. They ran in and he closed the door, pulling her against his body the moment the door clicked closed.

  Ravenous, he devoured her mouth once more, the thirty-second run upstairs like a lifetime away from her. Isabella met him in the moment, her hands roaming over his shoulders and back as she pulled him close. Restless, her hands shifted toward his chest and he felt the heat of her palms through his shirt like a brand.

  “You’re wearing too much.” The words came out on a growl and in that moment he knew just how far gone he was. Their light, carefree moments had shifted into something darker and more serious, the demands of both their bodies ratcheting up the urgency of the moment.

  His hands drifted toward the zipper he’d noticed at the back of her gown earlier and he slid the material open until it hung loose over her shoulders. He dragged on the silk, mesmerized as it slid down her slender arms, over her full breasts and then caught on her hips before it pooled at her feet.

  The ripe fullness he’d only felt in his palms was on display as she stood before him in nothing but her bra and panties. His breath caught as his gaze traveled over her skin and it was with renewed reverence that he ran a finger down the full slope, before caressing the underside of her full flesh.

  Her head fell back, exposing the long column of her throat and Liam took the opportunity to press his tongue there, the heavy throb of her pulse beating a heavy tempo under his lips.

  It was desire, raw and wonderful, delightful and wicked.

  In that heavy throb he felt it. And in the soft moan that rose up from her lips he heard it. And in the light flush of her skin he saw it.

  And knew that he wanted this woman in a way he’d never wanted another.

  Isabella finished the work she’d started in the office, dragging the studs from his shirt until it hung loose over his chest. With tantalizing efficiency, her fingers drifted lower, unfastening his slacks and slipped inside the opening. He sucked in a hard breath as her hand brushed against his rigid flesh, then nearly lost his mind as she slipped inside his briefs.

  “Isabella.” Her name fell from his lips in a heavy moan as her clever fingers worked his flesh from base to tip and back again.

  “You were saying?”

  He fought to keep his eyes open—fought to keep any semblance of control over the moment—but couldn’t stop himself from pushing into her palm as she worked his erection.

  Possession.

  The thought flitted through his mind along with a thousand other fragments as she pushed his body to its breaking point.

  She’d possessed him. Bewitched him. Damn, but the woman owned him. She played his body like an instrument and he couldn’t grasp on to anything coherent.

  It was only when he felt his control begin to slip that reality came flooding back. He gripped her hand, stilling her movement.

  “Not yet.” He gritted his teeth. “Together. We do this together.”

  The delight that shone up at him in her dark green gaze was all the encouragement he needed and he dragged her toward the bed. He stopped to rid himself of his clothes, the slamming of his heart and his painfully tight body leaving his movements awkward and needy as he fumbled to remove every last stitch of clothing. He nearly forgot the condom in his wallet but remembered it at the last minute before his pants fell to the floor.

  Dropping the small foil packet on the end table, he rejoined her on the bed. Her arms wrapped around him as he came down beside her, the silk of her bra and panties a tantalizing barrier between them. “I think you’re still wearing too much.”

  Before she could answer, he flicked open the front clasp of her bra, her breasts spilling from the material. He slid the straps off her arms, then kept moving toward the thin lace at her core.

  If the moments before had filled him with a desperate need, the moment his hands slid that scrap of material down her thighs gave him the blinding urge to brand her as his own.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “Then love me. Please.”

  He didn’t wait another moment, but kissed his way up her body, over her belly, over the full beauty of her breasts, along the slim line of her collarbone before pressing his lips once more to hers. With swift movements, he snagged the condom from the end table and sheathed himself in moments.

  Isabella’s hair spread out around her on the pillow and despite the urgent demands of both their bodies, he gave himself a moment to look his fill.

  Her gaze was direct as always, even with a thick haze of passion clouding her irises.

  And then there were no words. No more questions. No more moments of waiting.

  He slid between her thighs and she guided him deeper, the moment bright and alive as he began to move. He set a hard, heavy rhythm she met thrust for thrust and, just as before, he fought to hold on.

  Fought to prolong the pleasure for them both.

  It was only when a hard cry left her lips, in counterpoint to the heavy clench of her inner muscles around him that he pushed forward, driving them both toward their moment of fulfillment.

  “Liam!” His name echoed in his ear, the sweetest sound as it fell from her lips.

  And as he followed her into the abyss he knew the night would change him forever.

  Chapter 16

  Liam lay in the dark in the bedroom of his childhood, Isabella wrapped in his arms, and wondered how he’d ended up back where he’d started. Of course, his teenage self hadn’t ever had such an enticing and enchanting bed partner, but putting that one difference aside, it was fascinating how he’d truly come full circle.

  Isabella’s observations over the last few days hadn’t been off the mark, either. He had distanced himself from his family. The transformation had been slow, but if he were honest with himself, it was deliberate. A calculated effort to keep his loved ones at arm’s length. To keep the memories at bay.

  And avoid the pain of making new ones.

  No one knew him like his family. And no one but his siblings knew of the private moments they’d shared with their parents. Family movie nights. Vacations. And an endless string of days filled with the love and support of two people who embraced the uniqueness of each of their children, celebrating the individual each was destined to become.

  He knew full well he’d come a bit close to romanticizing them over the years, but he also knew the Steele family had shared something special until that lone day a car speeding too fast had collided with his parents’. In moments their anniversary celebration had turned deadly and nothing had been the same since.

  Isabella shifted in his arms, her fingers clenching around his hand where they still lay linked in the dark.

  Had he done the right thing, making love to her? Even as he knew it would have taken a supreme act of willpower to walk away from a willing woman. He knew he should feel something other than bone-deep satisfaction at making love to Isabella but he couldn’t conjure the effort. Hell, he could barely conjure the energy to keep breathing.

  But he still would have expected to feel something along the lines of regret. Maybe a bit of remorse at taking advantage of her vulnerability despite her protests to the contrary. Or acknowledging there wasn’t a future for them together. Or maybe even the slightest family embarrassment he was carrying on with the granddaughter of a dear family friend.

  But no, all he could summon up was a deep-seated satisfaction like nothing he’d ever known. Which, if he were being honest, should be a bit scary.

  Only it wasn’t.

  Isabella was a study in contrasts. Although reserved on the outside, she was passion and fire and warmth on the inside. Something he’d already seen in her work and in her wi
llingness to defend her ideas.

  And now he knew that same wellspring of passion existed in her personal life as well.

  So why weren’t any of the usual alarm bells sounding when a woman clung too tight wrapping around his neck like a noose?

  Maybe because you’re the one clinging.

  That insistent voice rose up, loud and clear, breaking through his smug thoughts.

  A dull panic layered over the smug, forcing him to acknowledge the truth.

  He was in this position because he wanted to be. And when she began to move her backside against his increasingly interested front, his body once again dragged him toward the generous warmth and passion that was Isabella.

  “You’re voracious.” Her words floated toward him, husky with sleep, as she wiggled her backside against his fully awake body.

  He nuzzled the warm skin of her neck and abstractly wondered why those urgent thoughts about getting away and leaving her to her much-needed rest began to fade as if they’d never been. He pushed aside the heavy mass of hair that floated over her neck and shoulders before pressing a line of kisses down her neck, whispering along the way. “Vixen.”

  “Thank you.”

  Liam didn’t miss the self-satisfied undertones in her comment but was fast coming not to care as the moment—and the innately responsive woman in his arms—demanded his full attention.

  She turned onto her back, the bounty of her body displayed for optimal view and he ran a lazy finger down her throat, over her chest before tracing slow circles over her breast. Her nipple puckered under his ministrations and he bent his head, taking it between his lips as she arched into his mouth.

  With aching slowness he shifted, pressing his lips to her other nipple, satisfied as it grew harder on his tongue. Even more satisfied when he heard her soft moans. Opportunistic and greedy, he kept up his ministrations as his hand slipped between her thighs, his fingers sliding through the warm wetness he found there.

  She was such a responsive partner, as in the moment as he was, and he found it only increased the pleasure they shared. As the night cocooned them both, he made love to her once again.

  And fought the suddenly real fear he might not ever want to let her go.

  * * *

  Daniel Stephenson limped into his office and closed the door, flipping the lock behind him. His rambling brownstone on the far north end of Riverside Drive had been in his family for several generations and he took some small comfort in the quiet of the late hour and the scent of leather and old books that surrounded him.

  It hadn’t been easy to keep his home, but it was surprising what money and some well-placed bribes with less-than-savory practitioners of the law could buy.

  Ignoring all he’d done to get here, he focused once more on his office.

  The comfort was minimal, but it was something. Something to get his mind off what he’d allowed to happen. At the reminder of his crimes, his heart slammed in his chest and he couldn’t get the image of his old lab exploding into flames out of his mind.

  Hell, it had been nearly two days and he still couldn’t calm down. Isabella could have died. Had their plan worked, she would have died.

  And it would have been at his hands.

  Edward may have rigged the explosives, but Daniel had fully endorsed the action and no amount of excuse could change that.

  What had he done?

  When Edward had first suggested they needed to deal with Isabella and keep her from going public with her findings he had agreed. Her research had far-reaching implications and letting it get into the hands of government officials meant it would be far too difficult to keep the more experimental aspects a secret. He and Edward might live off the grid, but they still interacted with others for their supplies. He’d wrapped their identities in secrecy and funded them with offshore accounts, but they couldn’t become fully invisible.

  Nor could any amount of money fully erase the lives they’d expended to get here.

  He had sinned. Had believed in Edward’s promise of a pain-free life and had accepted the temptation. He might have regained his life, but at what price to his soul?

  He flipped through a series of photos he kept on his tablet. Images through the years of his lab team, captured agelessly in pixels.

  Just like Isabella’s research.

  Her work was done, and nothing could put the genie back in the bottle. Even if he found a way to destroy every last lab note, the knowledge now existed.

  And if Isabella had figured out how to reverse biology, it was only a matter of time until someone else did, too.

  Someone who might not have her compassion. Or smarts. Or innate warmth.

  For all his bravado, that was what Edward fundamentally didn’t understand.

  Isabella’s research might have saved their lives, but several experimental branches of the world’s governments, not to mention a handful of well-funded, enterprising terrorist organizations—were playing a much bigger game.

  Edward might think him weak, but he preferred to think of himself as cautious. And he had a very real sense of what he stood to lose.

  It was his own fault he’d taken so long to realize it.

  Isabella Magnini had been like a daughter to him. She’d been the gift he’d never biologically have on his own and he’d let his own selfish desires get in the way of that.

  His hand shook as he removed the notes he kept locked away in his top drawer. His meeting with Bradley was in less than twelve hours and he wanted to check once more that he’d covered all his bases. That he’d ensured the calculations were as precise as he knew them to be.

  At the core of his notes was a copy of Isabella’s work, then his own calculations layered over top. She’d unlocked the genome, but he’d further modified it as part of his treatment. Like a skyscraper rising to the sky, she’d built the frame but he’d ensured it far exceeded expectations, dazzling the senses in the sheer magnitude of the accomplishment.

  His last, great gift.

  * * *

  “What did Campbell find last night?”

  “Find where?” Liam mumbled the words around a mouthful of toothpaste from the bathroom attached to his room.

  “I overheard him saying he’d run the lab files. What did he find?” Isabella let the sheet fall away as she stood up from Liam’s bed and delighted in the sweet ache of her muscles.

  The night before had been exquisite. She’d spent the past ten minutes turning other adjectives over in her mind—magnificent, exhilarating, phenomenal—and while good, none had quite the ring of exquisite.

  Had she ever felt this good before?

  Despite the aches—or maybe because of them—she was a mix of supremely satisfied and shockingly gratified. She’d gone after what she wanted and the results had been...well, phenomenally exquisite.

  Liam’s voice pulled her from her self-induced stupor as she recounted several moments from the previous evening. “He tried to explain it to me but whenever my brother starts speaking geek I have a hard time keeping—”

  Liam’s words faded as he stepped through the doorway, his gaze roaming over her nakedness with lazy appreciation.

  “Hi.” The word came out on a breathy whisper, a sudden case of nerves filling her stomach.

  It was one thing to do the things they’d done. It was an entirely different thing to now stand naked before him while he was fully dressed—natty in a button-down shirt rolled at the sleeves, black slacks and a pair of Italian loafers—while she stood exposed in her birthday suit.

  “You were saying?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  “Campbell. Speaking gee—” The words were muffled by his speed and the sudden sensation of being swept off her feet and wrestled backward to the bed.

  All while wrapped in those strong arms.


  The lingering taste of toothpaste hovered on her tongue as he shifted focus, his mouth tracing a path down her throat and toward her breasts. The mint on his tongue added a new dimension to the sensation and she felt the cool slide of his mouth over her breast.

  “Liam.” His name came out on a cross between a giggle and a moan as he focused on his task. When he didn’t stop she tried again, this time more forceful. “Liam!”

  “What?” He looked up, a thoroughly wicked gleam in his eyes.

  “We have to get downstairs.”

  “It can wait.”

  “It’s after eight. I already heard the house up and about while you were in the shower.”

  “No way. Everyone in this house is hung over.” He resumed his ministrations and made it awfully hard for her to focus.

  She tried pressing on the solid heft of his shoulders, even though she’d prefer nothing more than to stay this way all day. “Then they’re rumbling around with headaches.”

  He sighed and lifted his head once more. “I’m not doing a very good job of convincing you to stay here.”

  “We have to look at what Campbell found.” She scrambled out from underneath him and decided to go for broke. The sloe-eyed look in his eyes had to work in her favor. “And I have to get into my apartment and get a few things.”

  “No way.”

  So much for calculating the enticements of her naked form. “I need to. All my things are there. I’m still set to sit down with the reporters in little less than a week. I need to prepare.”

  “Then I’ll go over with the guys and get what you need.”

  “You can’t get what I need. You won’t find any of it.”

  “I’ll call you from there.”

  “I need to get into my things. You can go with me. I’m fine if you bring everyone in the house as well as a few of Jack’s mercenaries. But I need to get my things.” She sighed and worried a section of bedsheet between her fingers. “I need to see my home.”