of her face, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb. The kiss is long and deep and full of heat. But there’s something else she tastes, the promise of more and she feels an answering ache between her thighs. She bites his bottom lip gently, feeling a little thrill as he growls deep in his throat, pulling her even closer to him, so close that she’s left under no illusions that he wants her and, Lord, how she wants him.
The slamming of the front door down the hall brings her back to reality with a thump. Her eyes fly open and she takes a step back from him, watching as his hands drop slowly to his sides. He makes no move to reach out to bring her back to him. If anything, he looks as shell-shocked as she feels.
“I’m sorry, I hadn’t meant to -,”
“No, I’m sorry.” Isabel’s voice is a little stronger than she had feared but it’s husky as all hell. “I shouldn’t have come in here. That was…unprofessional. Can we just forget this ever happened?” She watches as his expression turns from contrition to something else – hurt.
“Sure.” He shrugs as if what had just passed between them was nothing different from a normal kiss he would share with anyone else.
That’s because it’s not different, Isabel . The rational side of her brain kicks the emotional side off of center stage. You’re not a fairy princess and he isn’t your prince. He’s just a guy who’s used to getting any woman he wants and you’re lonely and emotional. So get a goddam grip!
She nods to herself, taking on board the advice from her inner Jiminy Cricket. “Great.” Her voice sounds like it’s anything but. “So, I’ll just be going then.” She sidles around him to get to the door. She grabs the handle, feeling like she can’t get out of there fast enough.
“Isabel.” His velvety voice makes her freeze and turn around. He locks eyes with her, communicating more than he ever could with his words. “The next time you want to know something, just ask me.”
She nods quickly before dashing out of the door, closing it softly behind her. She races up to her bedroom and locks herself in the en-suite bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her lips are swollen from the intensity of the kiss, her eyes bright and shiny like emeralds, her cheeks flushed, and there’s an ache of need inside of her that won’t quit. It had been more than a kiss, or, at least, more than any kiss she’d ever had before. There was something there, a connection, something that terrified her, but, at the same time, she knew she wanted more.
She leans her head against the cool glass, hoping it will do something to quell the fire raging inside of her. It would be so easy to fall into bed with Wesley, far too easy. And where would that leave her? Nowhere. It is clear he wants her, but he’s probably used to getting exactly what and whom he wanted, whenever he wanted them. The thought brings an unpleasant spike of jealousy along with it.
“You cannot fall for this guy, Isabel,” she tells her reflection in the mirror. “Not this one. Out of all the guys you’ve been with, you cannot choose the one who has trouble written all over him.” Her voice is stern as she gives herself the telling off that she needs. She will not fall for this man, this man she knows next to nothing about. It makes no sense.
Mike is a good, kind, dependable guy and he is crazy about her. Wesley is…well, that is exactly the problem. She doesn’t know what he is and her little mission only stirred up more questions without providing any answers. But, right now, the biggest question of all is how the hell is she going to face him after what had just happened?
CHAPTER SEVEN
That night, insomnia grips her just like it has, like clockwork, for the past few months. It has gotten to the point that Isabel has almost forgotten what it is like to be able to sleep through to morning. She laughs at the
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