Izzy’s breath hitches and her beautiful eyes are swimming in lust. I scoop her into my arms and take more of what I’ve been dying to have for far too long. She’s putty in my hands and I carry her to the couches. I flip Izzy up in my arms and she doesn’t disappoint. Wrapping her tiny legs around my waist, I take us both down to the chair looking section. I’m sure there’s a name for it, but I’ll just call it Convenient. I place myself against the back and tuck Izzy mostly underneath me. She returns to devouring my mouth.
Fuck me.
“Ahhhh,” I break free from her assault. “Fucking, Izzy.”
“Who’s fucking Izzy?” she asks taking the moment to press up into me and pulling down my leg hovering just above her apex.
“Ahhhh,” the heat of her fucking sex rips another ragged breath and groan from me. Her heat on me combined with those words coming from her fucking beautiful mouth, spur a possessive instinct in me, I may make a rookie mistake and blow the game in my boxers. She rocks against my leg, back and forth agonizingly slow. “Fucking, Izzy.” The curse is off my tongue as she releases her claim on my bottom lip.
Her hips slowly stilled. Grateful for the moment to regain some of my breath, I take the opportunity to silently lecture myself about the importance of keeping my shit together. Nothing will remind her more that I’m a fucking teenager than not being able to control my release. But fucking hell, something about Izzy has my dick behaving uncharacteristically.
After a few seconds, I lower my head and my gaze to meet Izzy’s. She is captivating. The flickers from the candles dance with the soft breeze in her eyes. She smiles at me like she’s got a secret and she wants me to figure it out. I take a few more breaths, breathing her in and committing this image of her to memory.
Izzy lightly drags her fingers up my arm, making quick figure eights every so often. My heart immediately jumps back up; my breathing instantly switches to pants—gasps—for air. She tucks her head into my neck and scoots up to just below my ear. I suck in a breath and she whispers, “Is Diego fucking Izzy?”
“Ohmyfuckinggawd,” I mentally run a marathon to keep from putting an end to this night before I’m buried deep inside of this most intriguing and dick-hardening woman ever.
Needing to flip the tables on her, I press into the cushions below us, blanketing her with my entire body. I look into her eyes and note the flecks of red sparking in her irises. I lower my lips to hers and make sure I’m going as painfully slow as possible. Sure, it’s torture on the ache in my balls, but I have this inexplicable need to drag this night out forever.
The slow tease quickly gives way to frantic and possessing. I sink further into her and she groans in the midst of our entangled tongues and sucking lips.
“Izzzzzyyyy,” a woman’s voice breaks through the spell I’m under. Izzy, too. She stiffens in my embrace and I want to chuckle. She almost looks like she believes if she stays really still no one will see us. “Izzzzzyyyy,” the voice sings again. “Where are you and whose car is in the driveway?” I think I hear more female voices with her, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.
She starts shaking beneath me and I search for her eyes to understand. She’s fucking laughing. I don’t know if that’s an incredulous question or an amused statement, but I go with amused statement when the smile she gives me robs me of a choice in the matter.
A soft glow of light now shines on the attached back patio. Izzy tucks her chin down and places her forehead against my chest. I’m a grinning fool. I know the smile I’m wearing practically wraps around my face because of the almost painful stretch of my skin. I feel Izzy squirm and I adjust so she can.
She sits up and untangles our legs, mine immediately missing her heat. I’d guess she was in a similar state by the knowing look she gives me. “Mazzy,” she says.
Recognition flashes in my mind: her roommate. The one that liked to get tangled up with a couple of men at once.
Grr.
Shit! Had I just growled out loud? I release a sigh of relief when Izzy’s face is one of worry. “Sorry,” she apologizes, looking fucking edible with that guilt-ridden smile.
“Izzzzyyyyy,” this time it’s a chorus coming from just inside the house.
“Maybe she’s on the beach,” one female voice suggests.
“Wait,” the voice commands, “Mazzy, didn’t you say she had a date tonight?”
And the night went silent except for the deafening sound of the sliding, glass door’s seal being broken.
“Ohmygawd,” says at least a couple of them when they scan the room and their eyes land on us. I don’t break my attention from Izzy as a smirk pulls up the corner of her lips. With a quirk of her eyebrow, I know she’s telling me she’s perfectly aware of the effect I was having on her friends.
My own expression gives away what I’m about to do next because Izzy’s eyes flash with amusement followed by a roll. I shift up from my reclined position and direct my attention to the ladies. Inspired by the opportunity to keep Izzy thinking about me, I charm her friends.
Sure, I could curse the gods for their untimely intervention, but I saw the challenge in Izzy’s eyes to roll with the punches. I may want to explore every inch of her, but I can wait. Something says she’s worth every painfully hard moment.
“Ladies,” I greet our mini audience. One. Two. Three. Fou—I count five ladies to disarm. “You’re just in time for dessert. I brought cheesecake.” I can feel my face stretch with a wicked smile and I push up to grab the picnic basket with the dessert Baz made. I’m eternally grateful he made a full-sized cake now that it has to feed a few more than planned. “Of course, you’ll have to ask Izzy if she’s willing to share.” Ahaha. The challenge flies out of my mouth before I realize what I’ve just done. I turn to grin back at Izzy and I swear she’s shooting lust-laced daggers in my direction.
With a sigh, she gets up and volunteers to get more plates. She exchanges a look with the only one of the ladies not drooling over me. Mazzy, I assume. She’s clearly not simply charmed by my existence and she gives Izzy another look. If I had to guess? She’s asking Izzy what she walked in on, but Izzy only gives a chuckle with the shake of her head. I watch their exchange and I’m engrossed in their wordless conversation.
When it comes to an end, Mazzy turns in my direction. She looks like she knows I’d been watching. “So, Diego,” she practically purrs, but I can see the questionably playful sneer that accompanies it. “Date number two, huh?” She asks, practically shouts. I get the feeling that the question was certainly not only meant for my ears.
“Mazzy, right?” I lift my eyebrows to her. “Date with two?” I throw back as Izzy ambles back out to the rest of us, plates in hand.
“Ha!” she laughs. I’d say Izzy told her I overheard the message she left her the other night. The night of our first date.
“Oh, you’re good,” Mazzy concedes, but I still see mirth. Her smug grin makes me curious. “I only ask about date number two, because Izzy here can’t be bothered to go on a single date, let alone two with the same guy.” Mazzy’s got an open-mouthed grin with her tongue in cheek. She flicks her eyes to Izzy and I take the moment to do the same.
I catch, from the corner of my eye, the slack-jawed “O” face on Izzy and she quickly chases it away to look at me. Opening and closing her mouth, caught between saying something and figuring out what to say, seeing her need to explain what her best friend just revealed is adorable.
I redirect my attention to the cheesecake, pulling it from the basket and thanking Sebastian—again—for pre-slicing the dessert for me. I work to get the dessert on each of the plates and dress it the way Baz instructed. I chance a look in Izzy’s direction and she’s stuck in a wordless conversation with Mazzy again. The other ladies are fawning over the presentation and another thank you gets sent out to Baz. His pension for food presentation h
as me scoring bonus points as they “ooh” and “ahh” over the praline and caramel drizzle.
“The dessert’s gonna cost you, ladies.” Instantly I see the four nameless ladies eyes’ land on mine. I’m a little nervous they may decide I’m dessert, and as fabulous as that sounds, I can’t keep my mind off of making Izzy my dessert. “It seems that I’m at a slight disadvantage here. You all know my name, but I haven’t gotten yours.”
I hear the groans of annoyed amusement from Izzy and Mazzy and I’m pleased that my charms aren’t getting me in trouble. I’m okay knowing they’re not fooled by my silver tongue, each of the other ladies gave me her name in exchange for “Ahhhhh-mazing cheesecake,” as they phrased the compliment. A couple looked like they may not have been charmed out of their senses, but played along. Note to self: Not all ladies find me irresistibly charming.
I hand Mazzy a piece, then give one to Izzy. Izzy’s eyeing me as she opens her mouth and closes her lips around the cheesecake on her fork. She tightens her lips around the fork and my composure slips, I imagine her performing a similar task with my—
“Ohhhmyyygaawwwd,” Izzy purrs and the plastic fork in my hand snaps
“Fucking, Izzy. You’re going to break the man,” Mazzy declares.
Fucking Izzy.
Call me pussy-whooped without having tasted the goods, but that right there is the sound I want to make come out of her mouth the most. Lust fuses with possessiveness and I want to be the only one making that come out of her mouth. “Nobody,” I grumble and I’m met with a knowing look from Izzy and a baffled one from Mazzy. Izzy chuckles and Mazzy turns her stumped stare on Izzy. Izzy battles with making and keeping a straight face as Mazzy darts scrutinizing looks between the two of us.
Focusing on Izzy, I see the taunt in her eyes and we have one of those wordless types of conversations she’d had with Mazzy. She wants me to think she’d explain to Mazzy that ‘nobody’ was my answer to the question: Who’s fucking Izzy? Yes, I challenge back. Do tell. Fuck if there’s an ounce of shame in my game.
The girls behind me, around the table I’m now leaning against, are prodding and teasing Izzy. She takes what they have to dish out, but she’s not giving anything away. She gives me another look. There’s a tug-of-war going on behind her eyes. Tell or not to tell? She looks like she’s second-guessing her original challenge maybe out of embarrassment, but boldness wins out and I know what she’s going to do before she does it.
I laugh as she opens her mouth and blurts, “Nobody is fucking Izzy.”
So fucking hot. She actually sounds a little disappointed and Mazzy and the rest of the ladies are cracking up.
“I can call Steph and Aidan if that’s a problem, Izzy.” Mazzy’s ridiculous suggestion loosens a low growl from deep in my chest.
The ladies behind me gasp while Izzy is looking at Mazzy like she just poked a bear. Mazzy turns her head just slightly to face me and lifts her chin. Ohhhhh. I don’t hit chicks. I don’t hit chicks. Those four words my mantra for her ridiculous suggestion.
“You’re in trouble,” Izzy teases Mazzy. She, in turn, kicks up the smirk on her face.
I don’t care how hilarious she’s being. The laugh I let out belays the lie I’m telling myself.
The rest of the ladies in the indoor-outdoor room joined in and Izzy gave me a nod and a smile that made me feel like I’d just won the SuperLotto.
Mazzy left to grab alcohol and our little party shifted from the patio table to the couches. My dick twitches. The couches where I was so close to ‘Diego fucking Izzy.’ When the flashback loosens its hold on my conscious, I can feel Izzy’s eyes on me. She made a point of sitting close to me, leaning into me with her feet tucked behind her. I meet her eyes and she mouths, Thank you. I don’t miss the flash of something else, but I can’t put a name to the emotion.
I let the girls chat me up for a couple more hours. Answering their questions about soccer players as if we’re a different species. Soccer isn’t football. Well, it is but it’s not American Football. Doesn’t have quite the draw or notoriety. I fielded questions like, “Do all soccer players look like you?” To which I assured them I was one of kind, but I’d be happy to introduce them to some teammates. I don’t care how suave those fuckers think they are this group of ladies would break them, so I’m not worried about broken hearts and hurt feelings.
Broken hearts and hurt feelings? Oh, hell. Whom am I kidding? I’m not sure where this is going or what this is with Izzy, but damn if I won’t consider her friends’ feelings and hearts and ruin it before I have a clue.
I get a call from Baz and the ladies quieted to hear me talk to the man responsible for tonight’s possibly orgasmic dessert. He’s meeting me at Ernie’s so I have a ride home after returning the car. We agreed to meet in an hour. Not that I had any desire to leave Izzy, but it was after one o’clock in the morning and I knew that my dessert for the night was postponed when the late night dessert became an impromptu slumber party.
“You’re welcome to join us,” Mazzy had said, rolling her eyes at the glare she knew Izzy was burning into the side of her head.
“Do I get the real slumber party experience?” I asked, but looking only at Izzy. “Hanging around in our barely-there underwear and pillow fights?” My eyes are still focused on Izzy’s.
“Well, if we were thirteen maybe,” her voice shifted from cool and calm to husky and breathy and it draws my attention away from Izzy. She shares a look with Izzy and then grabs the cute, pink-haired one by the collar and plants the most sensual kiss on her. Showing off the barbell through her tongue when she turns the sensual kiss into one of unleashed passion.
I can’t stop staring. While neither has the effect on my dick that Izzy does, I’m still a man and these two fucking women swapping spit is a sight to behold. I feel Izzy shift next to me, but the sexual display in front of me holds my attention.
I feel Izzy’s breath on my neck. “Breathe,” she says huskily in my ear and I break the silence with a very audible gasp.
Jokes on me as the girls, including fucking Izzy, are laughing hysterically holding their sides. “Boys,” Mazzy finally says, “y’all are just too easy. Let’s go raid the kitchen for more wine, ladies. Then we’re playing Truth or Dare.”
Ha ha! I’m not falling for that again.
They herd themselves into the house and Izzy and I are left on the couch almost in the same spot they’d found us in. Afraid that I’d missed my opportunity, I ask Izzy, practically beg Izzy for a third date. I was too afraid that I’d already been granted a miracle having discovered her history void of second dates, which meant there weren’t third dates either.
“Don’t worry, D,” she soothed. “After being such a good sport tonight, I’d say I owe you at least one more date.”
“Ten,” I mumbled incoherently.
“Excuse me?” she questioned, her smirk giving nothing away about whether or not she’d actually heard my mumble.
I stood and brought her up with me. Time to say good night and hope blue balls doesn’t set in. “Hey, Izzy,” there’s a longing in her eyes and it breathes desire into me. “Can I kiss you?”
Chapter Nine: Mr. Brightside (Part 5)
January 2007
I’m a glutton for punishment. That’s clearly been determined. I’m halfway to the bottom of the bottle to numb the pain and I’m taking a stroll down memory lane as if it’s not one of the most painful experiences of my life.
Sure. The getting there was good.
The kiss good-bye that night? That kiss was life altering. Those wordless conversations I was so excited to have happened again. She poured every ounce of desire she’d had for me into that kiss. She made promises with her lips and tongue to do this again. I had swallowed her tiny moan and made my own promises.
Mine.
And I made
her mine on our next date. Izzy asked that I let her make the plans and I eagerly handed over date planning duties. Turned out Izzy’s plans involved a quiet dinner on her yacht—Yeah. I remember thinking there was no way this was even a version of reality—and getting naked. We did the naked stuff first. Fuck me. A twinge of pain wraps around my heart.
I toss back the last of the numbing agent in my glass and pour myself more.
Pretty sure, I fell in love with Izzy that night, but I wouldn’t say it for a couple more months and even then…the first time I said it, it wasn’t on purpose. I’d say the throes of passion worked as a truth serum, had me spilling my guts and looking like I’d seen a ghost right after. Izzy was kind enough to pretend it didn’t happen, but there’s no way she didn’t hear my confession.
Chapter Ten: Can’t Help Falling In Love
November 1998
“We need to talk.” That’s the millionth time I’ve played the message from Izzy. Nothing good comes from the ‘we need to talk’ conversation.
Fuck!
I had to go and say I love you. Of course, we need to talk.
It was three weeks ago. We’d spent the day at the beach and then the night tangled up in the sheets of her bed. I was balls deep in her warmth when the words leaped through my lips. “I love you, Izzy.” I gasped, realizing I’d voiced my confession. I kept pumping into her and she hugged me tighter.
I’ve spent the last three weeks going over our time together and I’m kicking myself for not standing by the accidental truth in my amorous declaration. There were so many times, I’d wanted to say it before our third date and every date after, her meeting Lito and discovering she understood and spoke Spanish, her first time seeing me play, Truth or Dare afterward, making me brownies, a helluva lot more times where I entertained the idea that I was falling in love…the brownies. Yeah, they were that amazing they deserve a second mention.
Love Needs Another Chance (Truth About Love #3) Page 6