by Katie Reus
Dammit. He couldn’t remember why they should stop as he looked into her bright eyes. He wanted her so much, had never stopped wanting her, loving her.
She reached for him again, this time for the bottom of his shirt, but he grasped her wrists, suddenly cold all over. He didn’t want her to see more, to see the swath of ugly scars forever embedded into his skin. Eventually they would fade, and maybe he’d even get used to them. But that wouldn’t be today.
She struggled against his hold for a moment, but then let go as he crushed his mouth to hers.
She met his kisses with the same intensity as him, hot and hungry. When she shifted her body and wrapped her legs around him, he pinned her against the wall. Groaning, he cupped her breasts through the sheer fabric of her dress, kissing her as if he was dying, as if he might not see tomorrow. As if this was the last time he’d ever get to touch her.
And it might well be.
When she reached between their bodies again and grasped at his belt, he took over. Feeling like a randy teenager, he shoved at his pants and boxer briefs before pushing her dress up to her waist.
He felt absolutely possessed as he cupped her mound. He could feel how soaked she was even through the flimsy material of her panties. It turned him on even more that she was already wet for him, just as hungry as he was.
She rolled her hips against his hand, her entire body trembling as he teased her clit through the material.
God, he wanted to imprint himself on her. He wished they were naked, completely skin to skin, but he couldn’t be that vulnerable with her. Not now. Not ever. Never again. She’d had the whole Evan before. He wasn’t going to give her this version of him.
She let out a strangled moan and bit down on his bottom lip as he slid the material to the side and eased a finger inside her. Another groan tore from his throat. She was completely soaked.
He caught her groan with a hungry kiss, and when she grasped his hard length in her long, delicate fingers he nearly lost it. It had been so long since he’d even touched himself. As if that part of him had died the last couple months. Now it was suddenly back to life with a vengeance.
“In me, now,” she demanded, her voice unsteady.
In the back of his mind a little warning bell went off, telling him this was a mistake, but he ignored it as he slid another finger inside her. Normally they spent a hell of a lot more time with foreplay—and they were usually both naked—but she was ready for him. And he knew that she had an IUD so he didn’t worry about a condom.
“Isla—”
“Now.” The word was a needy, desperate groan as her inner walls tightened around his fingers.
He couldn’t hold back any longer, couldn’t stop this. Feeling possessed, he shifted so that his cock was positioned right at her entrance. But when he thrust inside her, he froze.
She was so damn tight, so perfect. And right now it was like coming home. He’d missed her so much. Burying his face against her neck as she wrapped her arms and legs tight around him, he shuddered, savoring this moment.
Memorizing it.
The first time they’d been together, they’d been similarly frenzied, and hadn’t even made it to his bedroom, instead jumping each other on his couch.
This was different, but it reminded him of that first time he’d completely lost himself to her. He was afraid to move, afraid to ruin this moment. And he didn’t want to embarrass himself.
It had been too damn long and the tight heat of her was almost too much.
She dug her fingers into his back, and even with his shirt in the way, he felt the dig of her nails. Silently she rolled her hips, urging him on.
The feel of her wrapped around his cock was everything, but he needed her to come first. He’d screwed up so badly where she was concerned and he felt desperate to make her climax, to give her the pleasure she deserved.
He reached between their bodies and began teasing her clit, knowing exactly what she liked.
She jerked against his touch, sucking in a sharp breath as he rubbed his thumb in gentle little circles.
He felt her inner walls contracting around him, faster and faster. His balls pulled up tight as he focused on getting her off. Making her happy, bringing her pleasure—they used to be his favorite pastimes. And he might be screwed up, but he wasn’t completely broken. He knew how to get her off.
“Evan.” The way she said his name, a cross between a plea and a prayer, nearly set him off.
He knew she was about to come right before she let go. Only then did he begin thrusting, knowing it would extend her orgasm even longer.
She clutched onto his shoulders, her groans of pleasure the most erotic thing he’d ever heard as he buried himself inside her over and over.
As she climaxed, he let go of the bare thread of his own control and emptied himself inside her, coming in long, hard thrusts. His own orgasm seemed to go on forever, all his muscles trembling by the time she loosened her slender legs around his waist and he came down from his high.
“Isla,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her as he pulled out of her—but she stepped away from him, adjusting her dress and avoiding his gaze.
It was like a cold draft rolled through the room as she turned away, giving him her back. He didn’t know what to say as he zipped his pants up, didn’t know how to stop her from leaving when she reached for the door.
“Please stay,” he managed to get out. Okay, maybe he could find the words. “Just…don’t go.”
But she didn’t respond. Instead she opened the door and stepped out to the hallway.
Leaving him.
It felt like she’d just reached into his chest and ripped his shattered heart out.
Chapter 9
He stared out over the glittering Miami lights, pushing down his rage. His fist clenched around the stress ball, once, twice, over and over.
Breathe, he ordered himself.
Isla could still be his. She would be.
He’d gone through so much to get her. Killed her father, nearly killed that smug bastard Evan Bishop. All the others had just been collateral damage—and the stupid Feds thought it was over business. Everyone did. He’d have gone after Evan again but that fool had ended things with her.
It was…unimaginable. But he’d left the man alone because of it. Not to mention going after Bishop might have made the Feds look even closer at the bombing. They had the actual bomber, had that case tied up neatly, but they had no clue he’d hired the guy. It still shocked him that Bishop had walked away from Isla after surviving.
She was perfect, everything he’d ever wanted. Even if she’d shot him down.
Evan should have just stayed away from Isla forever, but now…he needed to die. Once Bishop was truly gone he could make his move, make Isla his. There would be nothing standing in their way anymore.
Rolling his shoulders, he turned away from the window and strode to his desk. He had work to do. The bomber he’d hired to take out Evan Bishop wasn’t talking, but he was going to make sure the man never did.
With the information he had on John Nix, the bomber would never talk. Not if Nix wanted to keep his daughter safe.
He pulled up a picture of the little girl on his screen, one he’d taken from outside her school, and printed it out. After slipping on gloves, he picked up the picture and slid it into a plain white envelope.
He didn’t need to put a message on it. Didn’t need to do anything at all other than send it—just like he sent a reminder picture every two weeks. All recently taken pictures of the little girl.
As he leaned back in his chair, he thought about how Isla had looked earlier in the week, especially at the gala. Her hair had been pulled up, showing off her long, elegant neck. She hadn’t been wearing much jewelry because she didn’t need it.
She was the jewel. He wanted to wrap his fingers around her long hair, crush his mouth over hers, fuck her any way he wanted. And she would beg for it. Beg for his cock.
He’d even set up that m
ugging, hoping she’d turn to him for comfort.
But nothing. Not even a whisper of what had happened to anyone. It was all Evan’s fault. If he was gone for good, she would be able to get over him. To move on.
Only…he didn’t understand what she saw in Evan Bishop. Especially now. The man looked like a monster.
She could have anyone she wanted, but according to what he’d been hearing, she and Bishop were talking again.
He clenched his stress ball again, his fingers digging into the soft squish of it. And it did nothing to push back the voice inside telling him to take what he wanted.
What he deserved. He’d waited patiently for Isla. It was his turn.
He’d been keeping tabs on her, but it was time to make his move.
Time to take his due—her.
Chapter 10
With her bag of Thai food in hand, Isla smiled at her assistant as she passed by Carol’s desk, walking into her own office. She’d been so busy at work today she probably shouldn’t have even left for lunch but she had to start taking care of herself.
She could practically hear Evan’s voice in her head telling her she’d lost weight—but she squashed the thought of him. After last night, after they’d hooked up against the wall of his condo, she felt hollowed out. Empty.
She wasn’t embarrassed, but she felt regret for her lack of control. Or maybe not regret but…she sure didn’t feel good about last night.
She wasn’t sure what she’d been thinking. But when he gotten all in her face, she’d just needed to kiss him to shut him up.
And then when she’d gotten a taste of him, that oh so familiar taste, something inside her had sparked wild and out of control. The man was like a drug—addictive and sending her senses into overdrive. She’d needed to have him. Feeling him pumping deep inside her had been incredible. But now reality and exhaustion had set in. They were right back where they’d started.
Exactly nowhere.
So she’d made the decision to keep him at arm’s length. She’d deal with Evan for business stuff, but that would be it. Nothing more.
Liar, liar. Ugh. Why did her inner voice have to be such an annoying know-it-all? She wanted to tell Jemma about last night but her friend had texted her this morning telling her she had to go out of town on an emergency trip. So she was going to save everything for when they could talk in person.
As Isla set her bag of food down, she smiled to see a cookie on her desk, wrapped in plastic. There was a cute little note that said eat me, along with a smiley face.
She recognized the wrapping from one of the local vendors. And it was her favorite—peanut butter and chocolate chip.
Eat dessert first, Jemma always said. Maybe she’d somehow dropped it off? As Isla unlocked her desk drawer and pulled her laptop out, she heard a familiar voice from outside. And she also heard Carol telling Ollie that she was busy.
“I’m free,” she called out, not bothering with the intercom. She really should sit and eat but she wanted an update on the security system ASAP. These glitches were getting frustrating.
“Hey, boss.” Oliver frowned when he stepped inside, seeing her takeout bag and the cookie. “Ah, I can come back later. I didn’t realize you were having lunch.”
“It’s fine.” She started unwrapping the plastic. “Seriously, don’t worry. And please don’t call me boss,” she said, laughing. “I’m assuming you have an update.”
“Maybe—I think so. I’ve done a full scan of the security system and I think it’s more than a glitch that’s been setting off the alarm. From what I’ve found—” He half turned, frowning at the sound of a very familiar voice from the other office.
What the hell? Isla resisted the urge to groan at the sound of Evan’s voice. Mainly because she needed to keep a neutral mask in place, especially in front of one of her employees. But really…stupid butterflies launched inside her, mixing with her annoyance. So much for keeping him at a distance.
“I don’t care if she’s not seeing people.” Evan’s heated voice carried through from her assistant’s desk. “I need to see her.”
Picking up the cookie, she bit into it. Chocolate and peanut butter were definitely going to be her therapy right about now. Because clearly Evan was determined to make her crazy. The flavors exploding on her tongue were pure heaven. She’d take the small things right now.
“Just give me a couple minutes,” she said to Ollie, pushing up from her desk and setting the cookie down. She needed to deal with Evan quickly, then get back to business.
Taking a step around her desk, she stumbled as her throat closed up tight.
Oh, God. She knew what this was. Gasping for breath, she clutched at her throat even as she fell forward against her desk. Fear clawed at her as she tried to draw a breath and failed. No, no, no.
The cookie must have had strawberries—or traces of it. Which made no sense. But that didn’t matter. Only breathing did.
She needed her EpiPen!
“Isla…” Ollie stepped forward, his eyes wide as he stared at her in horror. “What’s wrong?”
“Isla!” Evan shouted, a giant blur of motion as he rushed into her office.
In one sweep he took in her face and the food on the desk. She tried to drag in a breath, but could only wheeze in the tiniest fraction of air as her throat swelled.
Ohgodohgodohgodohgod.
She stumbled back, knocking papers off her desk. Have to get my EpiPen. There was one in her purse but the one in her desk drawer was closer. Before she’d even taken two steps, Evan strode around the desk and yanked open the left-hand side drawer. Because of course he knew where she kept it.
Her knees buckled as she tried to draw in an impossible breath. As she hit the ground, he slammed the needle into her thigh and injected her.
Gasping, she felt the effects moments later and sucked in a deep breath of blessed air, dragging in breath after breath as her heart raced out of control.
“Call an ambulance!” he shouted.
She was vaguely aware of Ollie on his cell as Evan lifted her into her office chair.
“Look at me,” he demanded as she collapsed back. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she rasped out, adrenaline pumping hard through her. She blinked as she watched him, only able to focus on his face. She had no idea why he was here and she didn’t even care. Because she wasn’t so sure she would have been able to get to her EpiPen in time.
“The ambulance is on the way,” Ollie said as Carol simply stared at her with wide eyes.
“Where did you get this cookie?” Evan asked, completely ignoring the woman.
“It was on my desk,” she said. “I thought it was a gift from Madeleine or maybe Jemma.”
“Who left this?” Evan demanded, turning back to Carol.
The other woman just stared. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I had to go to the bathroom and I left my desk unattended.” Now tears started flowing down her cheeks.
Even Ollie looked shaken, his cheeks and even lips gone pale.
She tried to tell Carol that it was okay even as Evan let out a savage curse. But Isla couldn’t find the words.
He strode over to one of her cabinets, pulled out an envelope and dropped the cookie inside.
She wanted to ask him what he was doing but she had a feeling she knew even as the weird sensation spread down her spine. There was no way this was intentional, was there? The cookie shouldn’t have had any strawberries though. And from the way she’d reacted? It hadn’t been mere traces of it.
Closing her eyes, she leaned back against her chair as Evan ordered her assistant and Ollie out of the room like a drill sergeant.
She might not want to go to the hospital but she knew she needed to in case she had a second reaction once the epinephrine wore off. Right now, she was glad that Evan was with her.
* * *
Isla stepped out of a small hospital room, only momentarily surprised Evan had even been able to get something private, but sh
e probably shouldn’t have been. The Bishop name had a lot of pull in Miami.
“What are you doing?” Evan asked as he rounded the corner, clearly surprised to find her leaving the room.
“I’m going to get some of those little biscotti things I like.” She hated it here—the smells, the memories of Evan shutting her out—but she’d gotten very familiar with the hospital layout when she’d been waiting for him to wake up from his coma. “Then I want to leave.”
“There was strawberry in the cookie,” he said, his expression growing darker.
“I kind of figured.” It was the only thing she was allergic to. Unless she’d all of a sudden developed an allergy to chocolate or peanut butter—and she didn’t think the universe would be so cruel right now. Luckily she hadn’t had another reaction and enough time had passed that she was in the clear. “Can you start the release process? I don’t want to stay here any longer.” She knew she’d have to talk to the cops—again—but she was done with hospitals. So freaking done.
Frowning, he swept his gaze over her in a purely clinical fashion as if he thought she was going to fall down. He was being incredibly overprotective. And while she definitely appreciated it, there was nothing more anyone could do for her.
Reaching out, she placed a hand on the middle of his chest. “Look, I’m fine. I promise. Thanks to your quick thinking.” A shudder snaked down her spine as she thought about what would have happened if Evan hadn’t been able to get to her EpiPen in time. And as far as she knew, her assistant didn’t even know where it was—something she was going to remedy soon.
“I don’t like you just going off by yourself.”
“I’m at the hospital surrounded by tons of people. Whoever poisoned me is a freaking coward.” And she couldn’t imagine who would have done it either. Security was looking into it, but so far she simply couldn’t imagine someone trying to actually kill her. Because she would have died without her EpiPen.
“Fine. Just wait for me. I’ll get the nurse and we’ll grab the biscotti on the way out.”
