Isabelle's Story, A Bentley Sisters Novel

by Lauren Beaumont

  "Hey!" A strong hand tenderly stroked her cheek. "You seem lost in thought. Sit down. " He drew her over to the table and the cushioned sofas that rested to the left of the patio and switched on the overhead heater to ensure she was warm enough. "I'll bring out dinner."

  "I can't believe that you've become a chef since you've been away," she teased.

  "Not a chef exactly." He grinned as he made his way back to the kitchen. "I've learned to conjure up the basics." He returned carrying dishes of pasta and a large bowl of salad.

  "Mmmm, yum! It looks like it's more than just the basics to me!"

  Alex settled himself next to her, topping up her wine as she picked up her fork.

  As they sat together, eating and sipping at their wine, looking out at the twinkling stars that blinked in the dark sky, Isabelle felt them slip easily into the natural comfort of friends who had known each other for years. Still, she couldn't ignore her enduring underlying attraction to the tall blonde man who sat next to her.

  As they finished eating and settled back into the cushions of the small sofa, Isabelle felt him draw her back so that his arm was wrapped round her shoulders. She kicked off her shoes and drew her legs up under her so that she was settled even more snugly against his body, unable to care if she was being too blatant in her attraction to him. After all, it sounded like he had guessed her feelings years ago!

  "So, tell me more about what your sisters have been up to. I know that Megan and Luke are getting married soon."

  "Yes," she said, unable to keep the slight hint of glumness from her voice.

  "Hey, what's up? I thought you said Luke was a great guy and Meg was really happy?"

  She sighed. "He is. And she is. I don't know." She took a breath, figuring that she may as well tell him, as he'd always had the ability to nudge the truth out of her anyway. "I guess I'd just expected Meg, and Lily too, to go for a slightly different kind of guy. They're both so independent, with great careers and they've always had such a passion for life, that I just worry that being with men so dominating is going to squash all that for them. I don't see how they can still be independent and the women they've always been, if the men they're with are so protective that they smother them!"

  "Oh, Bel," he said softly, drawing her to him, "surely they're just protective because they love them and won't see them put themselves in situations where they could get hurt? I know I haven't kept in touch with your sisters as well as I have with you, but from the emails I have had with them, it didn't sound like they were any less feisty than they've always been. Besides," he added, "if the stories you told me last night are anything to go by, it sounds like they need someone to take them in hand a bit more. They were never that irresponsible when we were kids or I'd have had words with them!"

  At his words, Isabelle snorted inelegantly. "Meg's moved to a different law firm in the last few months, even though she'd been tipped to be made a partner at her previous firm!"

  "Well of course she did!" He was clearly astonished and a thread of impatience ran through his voice. "Meg was working at a firm where her boss knowingly made her work with a client who came close to assaulting her! She should have moved firms as soon as she knew what the client, and her boss, were like, and not waited for the inevitable to happen before leaving! If I were Luke, I would have been furious with her. In fact, I'm half inclined to give her a piece of my mind when I see her. She never mentioned to me what had happened, she just made it sound like she fancied a change."

  "I think he was furious with her," Isabelle muttered.

  After a bit of silence, Alex asked, "Bel, is this about Luke, and from what you've said perhaps Tom as well, being protective of your sisters, or is it about how they choose to demonstrate that protectiveness?"

  Confused, she looked up him, "What do you mean?"

  "Well, I could be wrong here, but when I mentioned last night that if I'd been around when all this happened, I'd have turned them over my knee, the look on your face suggested that I might just have hit the nail on the head. "

  Her eyes widened with shock at how he had guessed the truth of the matter. She had to protect her sisters' privacy. "No!"

  "Bel," he warned reprovingly, "you've never been able to lie convincingly, so now probably isn't the best time to start."

  Utterly embarrassed, she pulled away from him and brought her hands up to her face in horror that she had unwittingly betrayed her sisters' secrets.

  "Hey," he said, "it's okay. I didn't mean to upset you."

  "Meg told me in confidence, and I don't even know for sure about Lily, was I so blatant? Do you think Elena and Philip guessed?" she asked brokenly.

  "No, not at all." He pulled her back to him. "They thought it was a complete joke, and I don't think they even saw the look on your face."

  Relieved, although still horrified that she had been so easy to read, she looked up at him beseechingly. "You won't say anything, will you? Promise me you won't?"

  "Of course not. As far as I'm concerned, what goes on between two adults in a relationship, as long as it's consensual and doesn't endanger anyone, is their own business. Although to be honest, I'm glad they've both found men who aren't afraid to take them in hand like that. It will keep them much safer, and likely happier, than they would be with men who let them walk all over them."

  "What? Are you joking? How can you possibly say that? It's not normal Alex, not in this day and age!"

  "Really?" he asked mildly, "Are you sure about that? You might find that some of the most solid relationships out there are based on much the same dynamic."

  "Where the man thinks it's his right to hit a woman to keep her in line?"

  "Hit her?" he asked, incredulously, "Of course not, Bel. What do you take me for? You surely don't think I would ever accept a man hitting a woman, in any situation?"

  Calmed slightly by his heartfelt denial, Bel felt some of her tension ebb away. "Exactly, which is why I find it difficult to get my head round how Meg and Lily could accept that, and how Luke and Tom, who are amazing guys, could do that to them."

  "Oh, Bel. Don't you see the difference?"

  She looked up at him, clearly perplexed and thinking that they were talking in circles.

  "The difference between hitting and spanking?" he clarified.

  She was baffled, as if he were talking a different language.

  "Spanking a woman, someone you love, isn't about raising your fists to them, or about violence. Sure, it may hurt, but it's about making that person understand why they need to keep themselves safe and not take unnecessary risks. Making them accountable for their actions. Hitting is an act of anger, but spanking is about love," and, after a deliberate pause, he added carefully, "although I might spank if its needed, I would never hit in anger, Bel."

  "What?" trembling slightly, she edged back on the sofa away from him, only to find that his arms were looped solidly round her back, allowing her some space, but not letting her escape him.

  "You heard me, Bel," he replied, his voice steady and his gaze strong.

  "You mean, you mean you'd do that?"

  "That?" he queried, trying to conceal a smile at her reluctance to say the word.

  Blushing furiously, she whispered, "Spanking. You mean you'd spank your girlfriend?"

  He nodded solemnly, "If I thought she needed it, then yes. But I'd never spank her in anger, and I'd always make sure she knew why she was being spanked, and it would be with her consent."

  "You've done that before then? With girlfriends in the past?"

  He nodded. "I haven't lived like a monk, Isabelle. I've had girlfriends while I've been away, and dated just as you've dated. Although," he added, "perhaps not as prolifically as you if Elena's to be believed!"

  Bel flushed again. "I don't think I could cope with that," she murmured, suddenly feeling lost. This evening, for the first time in so long, life had felt good. It had felt so right being here with Alex, her rock, whom she knew she could turn to with anything, properly back in
her life again. But now, with his honesty, she felt like that anchor was being ripped away from her again.

  "Why not?"

  "You know why not! It's not right, Alex!"

  "Says who? It doesn't sound to me like you've got much by way of first-hand experience to make that judgement. In fact, from the little I've managed to glean from your emails, and Elena, it sounds like you've deliberately gone out with men who are easily malleable and would do your every bidding, regardless of your best interests!"

  "That's not fair!" she denied, hotly.

  "Really? So you've been with a man who's laid down basic ground rules for you then? Who's held you accountable and spanked you if you've foolishly put yourself in danger or broken the trust that comes with any decent relationship?"

  Bel was silent, knowing that he was right, and she didn't have any experience with that kind of relationship, except for her own heartfelt belief that it would be flying in the face of everything feminism stood for if she were to accept such a relationship.

  He sighed. "I know it's going against the grain for you, Bel, but have you thought that maybe it's worth being open minded, particularly if it's made your sisters so obviously happy?"

  "That's not the point," she insisted stubbornly.

  "Well, maybe not, but it also seems to me like the alternative hasn't exactly made you happy either."

  "How would you know?" she reacted, irritated at his presumptuousness.

  "Well, you admitted yourself that you don't seem to know what you want from a relationship at the moment, and reading between the lines it seems like your writing has suffered as a result. It's not like you to be so far behind with your deadlines. What is it you're so afraid of, Bel?"

  "I'm not afraid!"

  "Really?" Alex traced his fingers down her spine, aware of the slight tremor that his touch evoked in her. "It sounds like it might be from where I'm sitting. Tell me, have you ever worried that I would hurt you?"

  "No. Of course not."

  "Then why would you be afraid of anything I've said to you this evening?"

  "Because you as good as told me that you'd spank me!" she blurted out, then bit down hard on her lip as she realised she'd admitted that she had interpreted his words as a reference to her, and any relationship that might emerge between them.

  Seeing her embarrassment, and understanding the reasons for it, he pulled her close to him again. Relieved that she didn't resist, he stroked her arm. "Shhh, Bel. You know I was talking about us. After so long apart, I want to be honest with you. I've already told you what I want, but I need you to know what to expect from me. I'm not some easily dominated kid you can run rings around, and you need to know that from the start."

  "I never thought you would be," she admitted, still wary but unexpectedly drawing comfort from the circle of his arms. "But I hadn't expected you to be so, well, extreme, either."

  Rocking back his head, he laughed out loud. "I'm not sure that I'm 'extreme,' sweetheart! But you know," he added seriously, though with his eyes twinkling, "there's way more to spanking than punishing someone. "

  "What do you mean?" she asked reluctantly, her curiosity getting the better of her.

  "You're the romance writer!" he teased, "Surely you can tell me!"

  At her bewildered look, he laughed more. "Oh, love! Surely you've heard of spankings that are designed to arouse and create pleasure?"

  "Hmph. Well, I'm not sure that in practice that would really work!"

  "Is that a challenge?" He grinned wickedly at her.

  "No!" she squawked as, teasingly, he pretended to try to place her over his knee.

  "Really? Maybe if you see how it can give you pleasure, you might not be so scared of the other side of it," he said, still grinning at her, but with underlying seriousness lacing his voice.

  "I am not scared."

  "Hmmm?" His tone was disbelieving.

  "Besides," she hurried to add. "You haven't even kissed me."

  "That can easily be fixed, Isabelle, but know that the moment I kiss you, we're going to be doing this my way."

  Her heart skipping a beat, she knew that he was waiting for her decision, and that he wasn't going to allow her to hide behind silence.

  "You say it can feel good?"

  "I promise. Although it works both ways, Bel. If you're a brat, or you put yourself in danger, it will hurt."

  "But if I don't do those things, it will just be pleasure, yes?"

  "Unless the world has changed monumentally since I've been away, I think it's unlikely that you'll be able to stop being a brat, but yes, I'd only ever spank you as a punishment if you'd truly done something to deserve it. Anything else we do together is aimed at giving you pleasure. " He traced a finger over her lips.

  "And I can call an end to it at any time?"

  "Anything I do has to be with your consent, you know that Bel. If you take away that consent, it doesn't happen. But, just so you know, I can't change who I am, and I very much doubt I could be the man you need if you took away that consent."

  Her mind reeling, she drew in a deep breath. For so many years, Alex had been the man against whom she had subconsciously measured any other date she'd had, and they had all failed the comparison miserably. Her brain was full of intellectual doubts at the kind of relationship he proposed, the kind of relationship that her sisters enjoyed and about which she had such misgivings, but at the same time she knew that Alex was right and she had no first-hand experience on which to base those doubts. Most importantly, she couldn't deny the attraction she felt for him, which had endured for so many years as she had grown from teenage girl to independent woman. She couldn't shake off the sense of comfort and rightness that she felt being in his arms.

  Gulping, she looked up at him, her voice steady even as her hands shook.

  "Kiss me," she demanded.

  Chapter Two

  Tension that she hadn't realised he had been storing was released as she felt his shoulders relax and he let out a deep breath as, bending his head, he brushed his lips against her forehead. Then, gently moving her away from him, he got up from the sofa.

  "Hey!" she protested, "That wasn't quite what I had in mind!"

  Grinning, he bent down and picked her up in his arms, carrying her from the sofa through the patio doors and into the living room where he placed her on the deep, soft brown leather sofa before moving away quickly to close the patio doors and dim the lights in the living room.

  "Nor me, love," he said, and chuckled. "But at the same time I don't much fancy having an audience and that garden isn't very private."

  "Oh!" Isabelle's cheeks flushed a delicate rose colour, as she hadn't even considered the fact that anyone looking out of an upstairs window from the surrounding houses could have had a bird's eye view of their activities. "I'm sorry! I hadn't thought—"

  "Shhh, it's fine, Bel. That's why I brought you inside." He sat down next to her on the sofa, tugging her towards him and, before she could say anything else, lowered his head to hers and captured her lips with his.

  Gasping at the sensation, at the electricity that jolted up and down at his touch, instinctively Bel arched herself into his body, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and tracing her fingers over the outline of muscles that she could feel under his shirt.

  Firmly, his lips moved over hers, demanding her acquiescence, and automatically she opened her mouth to his unspoken command. His hands moved steadily but gently over her back, lightly tracing the delicate curve of her spine and gathering in one fist the loose material of her shirt from where it had untucked itself from her jeans.

  Whimpering softly she craned her body further against his, wanting more of his exquisite touch, but realised quickly that he was refusing to let her set the pace. For possibly the first time in her life, she was with a man who was from the beginning asserting his control over her body and refusing to give in to her attempts to manipulate the encounter.

  Tilting her head back slightly, so that her neck was e
xposed to him, he traced the line of her collarbone with his free hand, whilst his teeth nibbled at her lower lip, gently but with enough bite that she gasped out loud. Soothingly, his tongue laved the spot he had nibbled, calming her instinctively, knowing that her lack of control over the situation would make her nervous, unused to it as she was.

  In those long minutes, she felt as if they had never been apart, as if their relationship had taken the natural step from childhood friends to lovers without the intervening years. Isabelle had thought she had experienced, and understood, passion and desire, but as she accepted his sensual assault on her sanity she realised that she had had no idea, that anything that had come before had been a poor rehearsal in comparison.

  With a groan, he sat back on the sofa, leaning back and drawing her to him so that she was in his arms, her legs relaxed over his lap. With one hand he reached down to the table to pick up the glass of wine he had brought in with them from the patio and held it to her lips. As if by reflex, her lips opened and carefully he let the dry, chilled liquid trickle slowly into her mouth before tracing her lips with his tongue so that he could taste the remnants of the wine from her mouth, mixed with her own unique taste.

  As he put the glass down she lifted her head up once again for his kiss and, as he deepened the pressure, she pressed her breasts firmly against his chest, wanting to feel the sensation of his hard chest against her sensitive nipples. Although his hands had barely strayed from her back, neck and mouth, Isabelle's whole body felt as if it were on fire, sensitised to his touch and crying out for more. Quite what that 'more' was, Isabelle wasn't sure she could identify clearly, but her body craved his touch in a way that she had never before known.

  Pulling back from her slightly, he chuckled huskily, "Naughty Isabelle," as his hand brushed deliberately over the taut nipples that she had tried to stimulate further by rubbing them against him.

  "You know what happens to naughty girls, don't you, hmmm?"

  "Hmmm?" was her only response, as her body cried out at the loss of contact with him.