“You don’t laugh much, do you?” More observation than question.
“I don’t typically find much to laugh about.” The admission made him sound cold, even callous, to his own ears, but before he could expound on the statement, she responded.
“Then you’re not looking.”
That stung, and he snapped back without thinking. “A bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”
She seemed entirely unfazed, blowing off his little spew of temper without comment. “Do you have an executive assistant?”
“Now you’re answering questions with questions?”
“Irritating...isn’t it?” She gave him a wide and genuine smile.
He snorted and shook his head. “Two.” At her confused look, he clarified. “I have two assistants.”
“Surely one of them could schedule some downtime for you to laugh a little.”
“Is laughter so important to you, then?”
The look in her eyes softened and appeared to be far, far too close to pity for his comfort. But the question that followed her look—that made him wince. “Is laughter not important to you at all?”
“I don’t make money by scheduling ‘downtime’ or laughing.”
She smiled softly, a bit sadly, and reached out, the move slow enough to give him time to reject her by withdrawing, but he left his hand resting on the seat between them. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
When she laid her hand over his, he experienced that same jolt of awareness that had hit him when they’d initially shaken hands. The sensation was stronger this time and held a level of intimacy he didn’t believe had been earned. His instinct was to pull away. But he let her hand stay, resting atop his. What she said next proved to be his undoing. And once again he hadn’t been prepared.
“There’s so much more to life than making money, Isaac.”
“Prove it.”
She tugged on his hand at the same time she leaned toward him. Isaac went where she directed, not ceding control, but, rather, allowing his curiosity to be sated.
His rational mind shut down the moment their mouths met over the center seat.
Heat roared through him, a deafening rush of sound and sensation that consumed his senses and rendered him deaf to all but the small sigh loosed by the woman in his arms. She was a study of contradictions—pliant but firm, leading him even as she followed his lead, curious yet certain, innocent but tempting, angelic yet sinful.
Isaac fumbled around in the dark until he found the button that hailed the driver. David’s voice came through the sound system. “Sir?”
“Take the long route to the Marina.”
“Yes, sir.”
Then Isaac turned his full attention on the woman at his side, his mouth finding hers as if they’d done this a hundred times before.
Rachel made a small, hungry sound, and Isaac swallowed it down like a starving man given his first real food in weeks, months, years. He fed from her mouth, sipping until he couldn’t contain himself. Then, for the first time he could remember, he loosened the hold he had on his control.
And desire took over.
Their hands were still joined, but he ran his free palm up the outside of her bare leg, under the edge of her dress until he reached her hip. An inch, maybe two, higher, and he found a scrap of lace that constituted her underwear.
The lace was no match for the strength of his hunger, and the fabric was gone, torn away between heartbeats.
She whimpered, a pleading, needy sound made as she suckled his lower lip. He must not have responded fast enough because she gave it a quick and demanding nip.
His cock swelled harder and faster, tenting his trousers and giving her free hand a destination.
She gripped his length through the linen and wool, and moaned without reserve.
“God, Rachel,” he said into her mouth. “More. Tell me you want more.” And she would have to tell him clearly. He wouldn’t lose all control, wouldn’t let a sexual haze take over and confuse what she wanted with what she consented to.
“More,” she whispered, tracing her tongue down the line of his jaw.
He ran his hands through her hair and forced himself to pull away, to focus on her and wait until she focused on him. “How much more? Spell it out. I won’t have misunderstandings here. Where is the line we don’t cross?”
“If I say stop—”
“We stop,” he interrupted before she could finish.
“That’s the only line.”
Isaac closed the distance between their mouths without another comment or thought, and let his carnal cravings take over. The back of his brain roared with victory even as his conscious mind warned him to proceed with caution. But caution took time, calculated thinking, reserve.
None of these were available to him just now.
He pushed up her dress to her waist as she parked her knees on each side of his hips and straddled his lap.
Still gripping his cock through his pants, she pulled his member toward her and rode the ridge with abandon, rubbing the broad head where she most needed stimulation.
He reached between them to unbutton his pants and pull down his zipper. The move set free his raging erection in one efficient move.
“Sweet, bleeding hell,” he said on a groan as the heat of her sex skated over the most sensitive parts of him.
Nibbling her way down his jaw as she rubbed along his length, she got to his ear and nipped the lobe, then whispered, “Condom.”
Fumbling like a teenager on prom night, Isaac dug out his wallet and prayed to God he still had something in there. When he found the gold tin, he could have wept with relief. He scrabbled to find the tab, then ripped the thing open, pulled the condom free and slid it down his length. Before he could move his hand, Rachel gripped his cock by the root and sank down on him one merciless inch at a time.
Her sheath was so tight she felt almost virginal. Only his control kept him from giving in to the instinct to lunge forward and bury himself in her welcoming heat.
With his hands resting on her waist so she could set the pace of their lovemaking, he let his head fall back against the headrest. His hips slid a little lower, stopping at the seat’s edge to give Rachel more room to move freely. She took advantage of the change in position and began to ride his length.
Eyes wide open, Isaac gave himself over to a wild passion, one that hovered so close to unfettered freedom that he’d never imagined it could exist.
Not for him.
CHAPTER SIX
RACHEL COULDN’T BELIEVE this was happening. She’d seized the moment and initiated that first kiss with Isaac Miller. Things between them had gone from a simmering boil to an uncontrollable inferno in roughly 0.02 seconds.
She rode his thick length with abandon, reveling in his size. Women who claimed size didn’t matter had obviously never had the choice between an average penis and an above-average penis. Isaac was well above average, stretching her to the point that pleasure and discomfort converged, and separating the two became impossible.
And she loved every damn second.
Her inner walls quickly stretched, accommodating his length and girth, and she took him as deep as she could with every downward stroke. Grinding her mons against his pubic bone, she stimulated her clitoris, rocking and rubbing with more primal hunger than finesse. That would come next time. And there would be a next time. She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in him tonight.
She reached between them and begin to strum her clitoris, pushing herself higher as she rode him harder, crying out with frustration when he moved her hand, only to hum with appreciation when he replaced it with his own.
He worked her like a maestro, plucking and pulling and pressing at just the right moments, pushing her so far that she could no longer think, could only grab his shoulders and give her body over
to his control, inherently trusting him to give her what she needed. That was when she felt it—the orgasm bearing down on her, rushing through her with a force that threatened to shatter her.
Isaac wrapped his free arm around her hips and pulled down at the same time he drove his hips up and pressed the broad pad of one thumb on her clitoris with calculated strength.
Rachel’s release nearly tore her apart, ripping a shout from her throat that left her exposed, completely at his mercy as he pushed her through the first orgasm she’d had with a partner in more than five years. With his cock buried in her and her walls contracting around his solid length, it was only seconds later that she felt the repeated pulse of his orgasm work through him.
Head thrown back, the tendons in his neck strained as he rode out his own pleasure in relative silence, a single, sharp gasp the only sound he made.
Rachel couldn’t have looked away even if she’d wanted to.
Small waves of sensuality rippled through her as Isaac’s hips jerked one last time, his orgasm finding its end. She wanted more, wanted to repeat that over and over tonight, so that she was physically sore tomorrow and thrilled with every aching muscle she earned between now and then.
She collapsed against him, breathing in the scent of warm wool, hot skin and the spicy yet earthy remainder of cologne on his collar. Saltiness spread across her tongue as she traced the tip of her tongue over his neck and, again, nipped his earlobe.
The car struck a bump in the road and jolted Rachel so much that Isaac had to help her retain her balance, though he withdrew from her even as he held on to her shoulders. She moved then, returning to her side of the car, and pulled her dress down around her hips as she searched for the scrap of her underwear, though she couldn’t find it in the dimly lit interior.
Beside her, Isaac worked to set himself to rights. Between rustling clothes and rapid breathing slowly returning to normal, he glanced her way.
“Rachel?”
She looked up, pleased at the high color riding his cheeks. “Yes?”
“We’re here.”
“What do you mean ‘here’?” She set her clutch beside her as she tried to wrangle her breasts back into the revealing but nonsupportive V of her dress.
“My boat.”
It was then that she realized the car had stopped moving.
The windows were tinted too dark to see out of, so she moved to open her door.
Isaac reached out and stayed her hand, resting his across her forearm. “Let David get the door for you.”
“David knows what we’ve been up to. I doubt he’s inclined to open my door.”
“No man will treat you as anything but a lady in my presence, Rachel.”
She turned toward him, laughter catching on her huff of breath. “You know, I can’t seem to decide if you’re old-fashioned or contemporary, noble or a certifiable megalomaniac. Which is it, Isaac? Who are you?”
A strange look passed over his face. “Label me however you see fit. Just promise me you’ll stay tonight.”
He left her feeling off-balance and more than a little unsure of where they stood with each other. Conversation with him swung between easy and something that resembled a contest of wills she was never sure she won. Yet she wasn’t convinced she’d lost, either.
But there was one thing she knew without a doubt, one truth that couldn’t be disregarded. They were highly, highly compatible as lovers.
If she intended to follow through on her promise to herself and find pleasure for one evening with Mr. Right Now, she had to stop trying to understand Isaac and, instead, give herself permission to simply enjoy him. He fit her list of immediate needs, and he fit it well. Trying to force him into the mental and emotional mold she’d created for Mr. Right wasn’t fair to either of them because she doubted he would, or could, qualify.
Isaac gently reached out and curled his forefinger beneath her chin, regaining her attention. Eyes on hers, he gently stroked her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “Stay.” If he had couched a question somewhere within the command, she didn’t hear it. But Mr. Right Now didn’t need to defer to her, didn’t need to act the gentleman all the time. He had to respect her rights and know how to get the most out of her body.
Isaac had proven that he fit both requirements.
She gave a short nod. “For tonight.”
Then she stepped out of the car and gasped at the yacht the driver had pulled up to.
“This is what you call a boat?” she asked.
“By definition, it qualifies.”
If this was what he called a “boat,” she’d be interested in seeing what he called a “house.” She was certain they had very, very different definitions. But, for tonight?
She could live with that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WITH RACHEL’S HAND in his, Isaac led her to the moored yacht. He normally didn’t give the size of the boat a second thought, but he’d been oddly concerned that Rachel would balk at his suggestion they come here if he’d made it clear that the boat was, in fact, a yacht.
His personal assistant, Collin, stepped out and inclined his head in greeting. “Mr. Miller.”
Isaac let go of Rachel long enough to step onto the rear deck’s planking, then turned and took her hand again, helping her step across the wooden gangway and onto the deck.
“Welcome aboard the Patent Pending.”
Her laughter rang out across the still night air, and warmth spread through Isaac’s body with an effect similar to that of a generous shot of whiskey. The sound was so uncomplicated. Pure. Authentic.
Isaac found himself smiling in return.
Rachel turned toward him, and what had been a look of amused curiosity on her face softened, evolving with every beat of his heart until her expression settled on something far more intimate. She seemed to realize she had revealed something quite personal and abruptly turned away. Approaching Collin, she held out her hand. “I’m Rachel. Rachel Stephens.”
Instead of shaking her hand, Collin kissed her knuckles. “The pleasure is entirely mine, madam. My name is Collin. I’m Mr. Miller’s personal assistant.”
She shot Isaac a funny look, one that silently asked, “You have a personal assistant?”
Isaac shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking heel-to-toe and back as he answered. “He prefers that particular title over ‘butler.’ I indulge him because it keeps him in my employ.”
“Why do you need a personal assistant?”
“It’s my job to keep him in line and, at times, focused, Ms. Stephens,” Collin interjected.
“Collin tends to grossly overestimate his value and underestimate my self-sufficiency,” Isaac grumbled good-naturedly. “I don’t have the heart to correct him for fear he’ll lose his obviously tenuous grip on reality.”
“Had I known I was agreeing to spend the evening with a yacht-owning philanthropist, I might have been a bit nervous.” She leaned toward Collin, laid a hand on his arm and, in a stage whisper, said, “It’s a good thing he pretended to be a rather self-involved, disinterested, somewhat self-deprecating individual. That managed to keep my expectations for the evening in check when I found out he was, actually, filthy rich.”
Collin glanced at Isaac, unable to mask his surprise. True, Isaac normally would have taken someone to task for calling him self-involved, be it true or not. He would even agree that he did, indeed, have a penchant for keeping his world ordered. That might make him come across as self-involved in some situations. But to agree that he was self-deprecating? At all? No one would believe that description. Ever. He was completely confident, both in himself and in the world he’d created with money and sheer force of will.
Still, this was Rachel. He was clearly inclined toward leniency where she was concerned. And his current easygoing nature was, without a doubt, a direct result of the mind-blowing orgasm he’
d just experienced.
Collin clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. “What are the evening’s plans, Mr. Miller?”
He looked out over the inlet. “How’s the water tonight?”
“Calm. Wind is out of the northwest at roughly five knots. Skies are clear. If I may, sir, I’d suggest a short sail out into open waters. Ms. Stephens might enjoy the night sky absent the city’s light pollution.” Collin gave her a small smile. “The stars are magnificent when viewed from the upper deck.”
“Please, call me Rachel. And while it sounds lovely,” she murmured, “I wouldn’t want to create any unnecessary work.”
“Work is, by definition, necessary to one’s continued employment.” Collin gave Isaac a sharp nod. “I’ll have the captain point us to sea while I put together some finger foods and drinks.” He strode off with purpose, leaving Isaac and Rachel alone.
“Are you up for a short sail?”
She moved to the nearest railing and watched as the crew worked to release the moorings and push off from the dock. “It’s fine with me, though I’m not sure how my friend would reach me if I needed to call her.”
“The boat has Wi-Fi. The password is penniesandpounds.”
She snorted rather indelicately. “Of course it is.”
Isaac stepped up behind Rachel, pressing his chest to her back and resting his hands on either side of hers on the railing. “Do you need to call her, Rachel?”
She shook her head. “Do you do this with every date?”
“I don’t date.”
Leaning her head back, she rested against his shoulder and stared out across the dark water. “What about lovers? Surely you take a lover now and then.”
“I haven’t had a lover in... Let’s just say it’s been a very long time.”
She huffed out a small sound of disbelief.
“It’s the truth. I haven’t had the time or the inclination to get involved with anyone.”
“That’s a lonely way to live.”
“I’m surrounded by people all day every day. Each one of them is constantly making demands of me. By the end of the day, all I want is to sit down, alone, and have a beer in silence. No one asking me for anything. No one giving me news, bad or good, that requires my action. No one expecting me to fix whatever is currently broken. No one pitching me an idea from their mother’s bunco partner’s son’s grandson in the hopes they can bypass the process and have a direct ‘in’ to the decision makers.
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