Matched

by Kelli Ireland

  “I’m alone, Rachel, but that doesn’t translate to lonely. Not by any stretch of the imagination.”

  “That’s fair.”

  “So what about you? Boyfriend? Lover? Husband?”

  She stiffened and then pointedly moved one of his hands aside to push past him. “If I was in any type of committed relationship, even if it wasn’t going well, I wouldn’t be here right now. I don’t condone cheating and won’t tolerate being cheated on. I’m worth more than that.”

  “A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed.”

  “Under most circumstances, I’d agree with you. But that won’t cut it with me, Isaac. Not when we’re discussing faithfulness.” She crossed her arms tightly under her breasts and turned to watch the receding city lights. “You should know that up front.”

  “This is obviously a sore spot.”

  She continued to stare out over the pitch-black water.

  “What happened?” When she still didn’t answer, he pushed. “Who cheated on you?”

  “I’d prefer to leave my history where it belongs.” Her gaze met his then, full of heat and fury and such a clear, raw pain. “Behind me.”

  She’d been hurt. Badly hurt. That much was obvious. And whoever it was that had hurt her had done so by breaking promises. The extent of those promises, Isaac could only guess. The very idea insulted even his somewhat stunted sense of chivalry. There were things one just did not do when involved in any type of committed relationship, or any relationship for that matter. Cheating was at the top of the list, right after physical abuse. Tied with lying.

  The idea of Rachel’s pristine skin suffering any untoward handling had him clenching his fists as he asked through gritted teeth, “Did he hit you?”

  “What? No!” She shook her head, her hair making a susurrous sound as it slid over her shoulders and along her arms. “No,” she repeated, more in control of her response. “I’d have cut off his testicles while he was sleeping.”

  He liked this side of her as much as her softer side, liked that she was, again, the perfect vision of strength and self-sufficiency. “Good.”

  She shook her head and turned back to the sea, the wind carrying her words to him. “I would have thought that you, as a man, would be offended at the idea of any man’s preciouses being mistreated.”

  Settling one hand on her waist, Isaac stepped close enough to lean in and press his lips to the hair that covered her nearest ear. “It’s inexplicably sexy, this image of you strutting into prison to a standing ovation.”

  She shook with silent laughter beneath his hand before settling her back against his chest, her ass against his groin. It wasn’t lost on him how well they fit, and he would have thought he’d be fighting the urge to step away and reclaim his space.

  He wasn’t.

  But he did.

  She didn’t follow but, rather, held her place at the railing.

  Part of him had wanted her to pursue him. That was a known element. This—her ease with herself and her self-assurance where he was concerned—was new. So new it was an anomaly. When he asked himself why it mattered what she did, there was just...nothing. No immediate answer. No forthcoming answer. Hell, nothing at all. The only thing he received was internal silence paired with slight unease.

  God help him, this woman had turned him into a damn mess.

  So Isaac moved in close, rested his hands on her waist and urged her back against him.

  She came to him without hesitation, snuggling back so that his cock nestled in the crease of her ass. That? That worked just fine. Particularly when he began to harden again as they shifted to keep their balance, the result being a gentle stroking motion against the sensitive head of his cock.

  Rachel hummed her approval and wiggled against him to bring him closer.

  Lowering his face to her neck, he dropped a slow, openmouthed kiss against skin that smelled faintly of expensive perfume. He’d smelled it before but couldn’t name it. Whatever it was, it was green and woody with a hint of musk—a perfume suited to a confident woman.

  Perfect for this woman.

  “Like that, is it?” Arms crossed over her abdomen, she laced their fingers together. “And here I thought we had come to the ‘boat’ in order to play cards.”

  “The ‘boat’ is good for many things. Playing cards is just one of them.”

  “You’ll spot me a cigar and a beer, right? If I had known I’d need a stogie tonight, I would have carried a larger handbag.”

  For the second time tonight, he busted out laughing without thinking it through and staying the reaction. And just like before, the action—reaction?—irritated him as much as it surprised him, though this time wasn’t quite as jarring as the first had been.

  She let him spin her in a dancer’s twirl and pull her back into his embrace, where he began swaying to and fro. “You muddy what is normally a clear mind. For me, anyway.”

  The smile she gifted him was breathtaking in the starlight. “You’re welcome.”

  “And why is that?”

  “You don’t seem to laugh much. That’s a shame.”

  “And why, again, is that?” he asked, curiosity piqued.

  “Your laugh is sexy as hell.” Rachel went up on her tiptoes and nipped his chin, encouraging him to lower his face to hers. He did as she wordlessly bade, and she rose again, this time stealing a kiss.

  They stood there on the dark deck.

  She tasted him.

  He tasted her.

  They explored each other, and their hands followed their mouths’ joint precedent. Her small sounds of pleasure pushed him higher, encouraging him to go farther, to find bare skin.

  Breaking the kiss, Rachel dropped to her heels. “I’m guessing that Collin, your butler-who’s-more-personal-assistant-and-finger-food-chef, could walk out at any moment.”

  “He better not,” Isaac all but growled. “I pay him better than that.”

  She chuckled even as she took his hand and backed toward the nearest pair of sliding glass doors. “Surely this rickety dinghy has a horizontal surface somewhere.”

  “Dinghy, huh? I don’t think she’s ever been so insulted.”

  “She’ll survive.”

  “I’ll have her brass polished and make Collin sweet-talk her while he does it.”

  “Rich men are such snobs.”

  Taking her hand, he rested it over the length of his throbbing cock.

  “Hmm.” She palmed him before changing to long, slow strokes. “You need to see a doctor about this, sir?”

  “I’d rather see a particular lawyer in this case.”

  “Lucky for you, I’m on a one-night exclusive retainer.”

  She closed the paper-thin distance, opening herself to him. His hands. His kiss.

  Isaac plundered her mouth, his tongue tracing her lips, her teeth, before seeking hers. It was an intimate duel, one of thrusts and parries, with an outcome that would have two winners.

  She returned his attention with equal fervor. Every move she made affirmed for him that they weren’t yet done with each other. Every sound solidified her intent. Her every touch declared that she intended to slay the demons he’d roused.

  And his body was her weapon of choice.

  * * *

  Anyone could see them, standing as they were on the open deck. Rachel pulled away from him and, grabbing his hand, backed up, trusting him to guide her. Or at least keep her from falling overboard.

  His lips were swollen from the passionate kiss they’d just shared. A small smudge of lipstick—her lipstick—marked his collar. She couldn’t help but think the deep brownish red, labeled Jungle Vixen, was a good color on him.

  “Which way to the bedroom?”

  He smirked. “She has six. Take your pick.”

  “‘She’ again. Why is that?”

  “E
very good boat is a ‘she.’”

  “I’ll make sure to let the United States Navy know they need to rechristen a few of their boats.”

  He stumbled. “Boats? Good God, Rachel. Don’t let the navy hear you call their warships ‘boats.’”

  “Boats. Ships. Warships. Why are the ‘warships’ not classified as ‘she’? Seems a little inequality might be at play here.” She paused. “You don’t think women are warriors?”

  He moved closer with panther-like grace. “If I’d ever been so foolish as to entertain that idea, you would have changed my mind tonight.” Leaning in, he nipped her lower lip.

  “Good save.” She couldn’t help but wonder if he always knew what to say to when backed into a corner.

  He slid an arm around her waist and then bent and hooked the other behind her knees, lifting her with ease.

  She squeaked, a sound she found embarrassingly feminine. “Don’t carry me, Isaac.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m too heavy.”

  “Bullshit.” But he stopped and looked at her. “Let me carry you to bed, Rachel. Please.”

  “Just...” Heat burned up her neck and across her cheeks. “You swear I’m not too heavy?”

  “Don’t impugn my manhood here, woman. I shouldn’t have to tell you that my carrying you is a wildly romantic gesture.”

  Burying her face in his neck, she murmured, “Don’t do something ridiculous like throw your back out.”

  “I won’t. I’m curious, though. Where’s the concern coming from?”

  She kissed his neck and couldn’t help but feel empowered when he shivered. “I’m not done with you tonight. An emergency-room visit for a slipped disc isn’t part of my plans.”

  “If I slip a disc, it’ll be because I’m rushing. You have no idea how sexy you are or how much I want you to carry out your plans for the evening.”

  “And if those plans are simply a card game?”

  “I’ll spot you the cigar, as promised. But, Rachel?” He paused and leaned down, bringing his lips to within a hairbreadth of hers. “If you told me all you wanted was a poker game, I’d honor that.”

  “I know.”

  “That’s all that matters.” He toed open the sliding glass door and strode down the narrow hall, carefully twisting and turning, as if to ensure he didn’t bang Rachel’s head or feet on a wall.

  She gasped when he stepped through a doorway and kicked the door shut before settling her on a massive bed. Looking around, she feigned indifference. “An actual king-size bed. I’m impressed.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “What did you expect?”

  She grinned at him. “Bunks? A U-shaped dinette? Maybe a fish-gutting table.”

  Isaac peeled off his jacket and tossed it toward a chair in the corner of the not insubstantial room...and missed. “Not on this dinghy.” Then he started working on his tie.

  Rachel rose to her knees, then crawled across the bed, stopping only when she placed her hands over his at his collar. He stilled, looking down at her. For a moment, her mind went blank.

  His blue eyes, framed by black lashes, had darkened several shades and developed an immeasurable depth. But they held something new.

  Excitement.

  His facial features were as defined as before, but they were decidedly less harsh.

  Softened.

  And the flush of his skin might be attributed to the brisk wind that had buffeted them on deck, but she saw something else there, as well.

  Anticipation.

  She hadn’t taken the time to pay attention before, and the car’s dark backseat hadn’t been conducive to noticing the small things. Admittedly, she hadn’t been interested in the small things, either. All she had wanted was him. His body. An orgasm.

  The memory made her thighs clench and her sex ache.

  Isaac lifted a hand and gently cupped her jaw, tracing his thumb along her cheek. The tip of his thumb brushed her lower lashes. He smiled when she blinked. “The way your pupils expand when you’re turned on...”

  “Surely they’re not any larger than a dime.”

  “Try a pair of Lincolns,” he countered.

  “No way.”

  “Two nickels, on my honor.”

  “Do you always have to be right?”

  “No. It’s just that I am always right.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Keep believing that. It’s bound to keep your bed warm.”

  “Tonight, I have you.”

  “Tonight.” The affirmation was unexpected. Worse? It stung.

  She knew she had no reason to expect more. Hell, she’d been the one to initiate this one-night stand. Not once had she thought beyond the moment, she’d been so intent on reclaiming her life with Mr. Right Now. Isaac fit that bill.

  There was no denying he was well outside the type of man she had traditionally looked for, dated and, yes, even married. They were from such different worlds. His “dinghy” bedroom was larger than the one in her apartment. His annual club membership was likely more than her annual salary. She had only just scored approval to hire a paralegal, whereas Isaac had two executive assistants...and a private personal assistant. But they did have raw, undisputable chemistry.

  That was all a one-night stand required.

  Leaning down, he brushed his lips over hers. “Where did you go, Rachel?”

  “Mental walkabout.”

  “Come back to me.”

  Her chest tightened, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to hear him say those words with meaning. Purpose. Desire. Not that he didn’t want her, but if he truly wanted her.

  Sinking back to rest her butt on her heels, she let one hand wander down the buttons on his shirt. “I assume you have a tailor?”

  His brow furrowed. “I do.”

  Gripping the front tails of his shirt, one in each hand, she pulled. The first button popped off, pinging across the built-in dresser’s marble top.

  “Objections?” she asked, her voice low. Sultry.

  “None.”

  That was what she’d wanted to hear. With a single swift yank, his shirt buttons pinged around the room. The shirt hung open and left his chest exposed, his skin still bearing the last vestiges of a summer tan. Mission accomplished. The temptation to take him in in visual gulps almost overwhelmed her. Forcing herself to slow down was almost more than she could stand. But this moment and this man were meant to be savored.

  So she did.

  His pecs were much more defined than she had expected and so firm she could have bounced a quarter off the top of each muscle. The planes of his abdomen were sculpted but not egregiously so. He clearly worked out, took care of himself, but he wasn’t muscle-bound.

  With his belt loose and his pants hanging low on his hips, his obliques created funnels to the ultimate final destination. But Rachel still wanted to look and luxuriate in his sheer maleness. To appreciate him for the way he’d not only taken care of but had also sculpted his body. If it was a shrine, she planned on worshipping there with fervor all night.

  Tracing her hands lower, reveling in every peak and valley, she reached his waistband and paused before curling her fingers over the edge. Her fingertips brushed the tip of his erection and came away damp with arousal.

  He sucked in a breath. “Enough play.”

  “Never.” She worked his zipper free and let go, watching his pants pool around his ankles. His cock strained at the boxer briefs he wore, the head breaching the elastic waistband.

  Impulse drove her to lean in and quickly trace her tongue over the exposed crown.

  Isaac’s hips jerked forward as his hands flexed open and closed, seeking something to hold on to.

  She kneeled before him on the bed. “Honest question.”

  He gripped his shirt front and pulled down until the fabric strained over his
shoulders. “You want to talk? Now?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “I’ll trade you conversation for losing the dress.”

  She reached for the zipper at her back and paused. “Answer my first question and I’ll drop the zipper.”

  “The whole dress.”

  “And you want to negotiate now?” Folding her hands in her lap, she smiled demurely. “Not happening.”

  “Damn it, Rachel. You’re killing me. I want to see your body. All of it. In the light. Not try to make out details by the diluted light of oncoming traffic. Just...” He tunneled his hands through his hair...and immediately finger-combed it into a semblance of submission. Then he set about picking up the buttons that had scattered when she’d removed his shirt, gathering them all before opening a drawer on the built-in dresser and depositing them inside. When he retrieved his shirt, folded it and set it on top of the dresser, her suspicions were confirmed.

  Isaac Miller was a man who needed order and control.

  Part of Rachel wanted to panic. Jeff, her ex, had tried to control her. No, not control exactly. More that he’d tried to dominate her in every aspect of their relationship. Isaac had kept his need for control to himself. Literally. He’d not once tried to control her but, rather, had tried to negotiate what he wanted while keeping his own person and his surroundings controlled. When it came to his treatment of her? There had been nothing but respect. That made Isaac different than Jeff. And different was what she needed tonight.

  She shifted her body to give him a good look at her cleavage, teasing him and, in an unexpected turn, being teased by him when she saw the way his eyes flared as they took her in. Running a hand up the front of her dress, she hooked her pointer finger over the fabric and tugged just enough to expose more flesh. “Answer my questions, Isaac, and the dress comes off.”