He laughed, finding her statement so very Patras. “Unless you have any more conditions.”
“Just one.”
He braced himself, unsure if he could concede another principle. He was already breaking so many of his rules, namely, to let her live a happy life and not interfere. But at this point, he knew he’d agree to anything. “Let’s hear it.”
“Make love to me.”
His body tightened as blood rushed to his cock. Jesus. There was definitely something to be said for her tenaciousness.
His guard slipped and he smiled. Placing his glass next to hers on the table, he stepped toward her, unable to resist putting his hands on her a moment longer.
“Bella.” He jerked her body to his and gave her a brief second to change her mind. When she made no objection, he lowered his lips to hers.
Her mouth fit against his like a memory he’d never forget. She tugged him closer and deepened the kiss, her eagerness adding fuel to the already scorching fire in his blood. His body firmed as his hands dropped to her hips, massaging greedily.
“Upstairs,” he whispered, tugging her by the hand toward the hall.
“Here.” She pulled him closer to the sofa until they stumbled to the cushions and her body cradled his weight.
His hands coasted over her prim and proper work attire as he hungrily kissed her, showing her exactly how much she’d been missed. At the office he’d been able to see the precise points of her nipples pressing through the thin silk of her blouse. He wanted to rip it off of her now.
Hiking up her fitted skirt, he worked the lace of her panties aside, sinking a finger deep into her core. She arched and moaned, breaking their kiss as his lips moved down her throat and his finger pumped into her.
She was so wet, so responsive. As he fucked his fingers into her tight pussy her scent swept to his nose, filled his lungs, and his desire rushed forward with unstoppable force.
“God, I fucking missed you,” he hissed, yanking her blouse open and unveiling her breasts.
He shoved her bra out of the way and stared. Supple peaks tipped in dark scarlet. He captured a tight nipple in his mouth and sucked hard.
She cried out, running her fingers through his hair and holding him close. Her other hand tugged at his belt. He shoved her skirt higher and yanked her panties down her legs, forcing her thighs wide.
“Scoot forward.” He cupped the back of her knees, dragged her to the edge of the couch, and dropped to his haunches.
She gasped as the heat of his tongue found her center and stabbed deep. “Oh, my God, yes!”
Her legs curled over his shoulders, as he tasted her. So familiar.
He sank two fingers deep and closed his lips over her clit. She cried out again, as her pleasure broke free in a show of such exquisite beauty he nearly came himself.
Stark desire stole through him as her body subtly shook. He kissed a trail up her stomach, back to her breasts. Her arms wreathed around him and she pulled his mouth to hers. Urging him on top of her, she fit her hand into his pants to free his cock and stroke him against her sex, guiding him with gentle presses until he finally sank deep.
His eyes closed as he let out a curse. She felt like home.
Burying his face in her hair, he caught his breath. Easing back, he stared into her eyes and nearly lost himself in the trust he found staring back at him.
“Isadora.”
Her soft smile twitched as her cheeks flushed. There was that familiar innocence he loved. He pulled her mouth to his and kissed her with gentle affection as he thrust into her, claiming everything he’d lost as his once more.
Her eyes opened slowly, a glassy sheen giving away her bottled up emotions. That was the woman he wanted, his bella. She could save the act for someone else.
“Don’t pretend to be someone else with me, bella. Where’s my girl?”
“I’m here,” she whispered, a tear slipping past her lashes.
He traced the moisture away with his thumb. He wanted to hold her, take care of her, protect her, but she was stronger and different now. Or was she?
“You’re still my bella.”
Her mouth curved into a smile. “I’ll always be your bella.”
He thrust hard. A static melody of pounding flesh mixed with their moans. He growled, unable to get close enough to her, doubling his speed.
When he was near finishing, he reached between them, teasing her clit, and she shattered once more. His release pumped into her and she held him tight, his shoulders trembling under her fingertips, an unnamable emotion cocooning his heart.
He pulled her into his arms, tighter than any man would hold a paramour, and it scared the living shit out of him. How had he gone without her for so long? Never again.
Chapter Seventeen
Vita Segreta
“Secret Life”
Sawyer poured coffee into two mugs and passed one to Isadora. Her smile was shy as she looked up at him, cradling the ceramic cup in one hand and holding the blanket from the couch to her chest with the other. He found it hard to believe she was back in his life after countless days of lonesome hell.
“This is good. I missed your coffee.”
He grinned and sipped from his mug, unsure if they should discuss what just happened. Other topics flitted through his head but they all seemed too casual. When he woke up this morning, he never expected the day to end like this, with her inhabiting his space again.
Now that the edge was off, his mind bombarded him with more unanswered questions. He needed to know what brought about so many changes in her, if her experiences were positive or negative.
“I should—”
“Why did you break up with that man?”
Appearing startled by his question, she placed her mug on the end table. “I told you why.”
“There has to be more to it.”
“You really want to talk about that, Sawyer?”
He shrugged. “Was he good to you?”
“He was a gentleman.”
What the hell did that mean? “Did you get along?”
“We got along great, but he wasn’t enough for me.”
Rabid curiosity burned inside of him, desperate to understand exactly what she meant. He’d insisted she find someone more appropriate. But knowing someone else had known her in a carnal sense …
It hurt and he didn’t like it. More than hurt. It felt like a part of his heart had been violated.
She reached for his shoulders and the blanket fell away. Her naked body pressed into his. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, so long as you keep your secrets to yourself. I can’t bear the thought of you with anyone else. I know I’m stronger now, but I’m still breakable.”
Running a finger along her delicate cheekbone he looked into her dark eyes. “I won’t break you, bella.” The thought of causing her any more pain was unbearable.
She smiled, but something shifted in her face. Maybe she was right. It was bad enough knowing she’d been fine without him. He could live without the details of how she’d managed. Better to focus on the now.
She was back now. He missed hearing about her days and that was what he should ask about, her day-to-day life now.
Antoinette was in college, yet he still pictured her as a little girl. He remembered the day Lucian left for college, how hard it had been on Isadora, yet she appeared to be taking her sister’s departure in stride. He hated missing so much.
He didn’t need the details of her experience with other men, but wanted to know everything else. “Tell me about Italy.”
Her face lit with affection as she fell into reminiscing anecdotes of her and her sister’s adventures across the globe. He laughed and listened and let her stories carry him to a familiar place he hadn’t been in some time.
Isadora’s heart was a wide-open part of her. The longer he let her talk, the more she opened up to him. He missed her stories. Being welcomed back into her life was perhaps the greatest surprise of his.
T
his time was easier. Familiar. And he promised never to take her for granted again.
It was never discussed, why they’d broken up. Sawyer sometimes privately wished her a proper future, loving her enough to know she deserved more than he could offer, but he was too selfish to let her go again. Having her back in his life felt right.
Though her schedule was busier, especially once Lucian’s company really took off, they always made time for each other. They no longer only met on Mondays, but whenever they desired. At the office, when their paths crossed, there was an unspoken tension between them, but Isadora made professionalism an art form, so no one ever suspected they shared a life outside of their careers.
She never complained about their clandestine status, nor did she breathe a word about loving him. Perhaps she no longer did.
Once the cooler months started so did the usual winter events. Isadora attended some, but not all. Slade continued to ease into his role, taking over the reins and that meant Sawyer had to introduce him to hundreds of colleagues.
One evening, after a local charity event for St. Christopher’s, the homeless shelter Chelsea had supported with great passion when she was alive, he and Slade stopped for a drink at a local bar.
Sawyer was disappointed in this year’s fundraising efforts and knew that was partly his fault. If they didn’t make some changes the shelter wouldn’t make it another winter.
“It’s difficult, doing so much and still seeing so much suffering. It can burn you out. Make you jaded.” He needed Slade to understand how necessary the shelter was, why it couldn’t close. It was about more than a promise he’d made to his late wife. It was about compassion, second chances, and survival for those less fortunate.
“You can’t beat yourself up, Dad. Think of how many residents leave for better options.”
“Unfortunately, we don’t hear the success stories. We just have to assume they’re out there. The number of those in need keeps increasing and the charity events aren’t bringing in half of what they used to. Your mother was always so good at charming people to open their wallets. I’m failing her.”
Slade patted his arm. “You’re not. She’d be happy to know you kept with it. I remember going there as a kid and watching her sit and talk to them. She never saw them as different. Not everyone can be as open minded.”
He frowned at his son’s choice of words. “They aren’t different. Some of them once had beautiful homes and luxurious lives. Everyone’s only one crisis away from bankruptcy in this country. And sometimes loss isn’t related to money at all.”
His mind again went to Chelsea. Losing his wife had been the shock of a lifetime. He would’ve given up everything he owned to just have one more day with her.
In the beginning, it was a trial just to get out of bed in the morning. If not for Slade, he would have never made it through his grief. But grief like that never really went away. It certainly lived longer than people. Exactly why he refused to love anyone that deeply ever again.
Slade looked at him as if he could read his thoughts. “You know it’s been twenty years, Dad. No one would blame you for moving on.”
“Love’s too complicated. It has the ability to lift you up and cut you down in one fell swoop.” He paused to sip his cocktail and flag down the bartender for a refill. “When your mother died… It broke something in me that can’t be fixed.”
Slade slid his glass forward as the bartender approached. When they were alone again, he asked, “Don’t you want to be happy?”
“I am happy.”
“Dad, you haven’t been with anyone in years.”
Shifting the attention off himself, he asked, “What about you? You haven’t brought home a girl since high school.”
“My needs are met.”
Sawyer chuckled. “I get that, but what about a family? Don’t you want children someday?”
“No.”
Startled by his son’s immediate rejection of the possibility, Sawyer frowned. “Since when?”
“Since always. I might get married one day, but there won’t be kids in my future.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because I’m a realist.”
Jarred by his announcement, he took a moment to process the idea that the Bishop name might die with them. For a split second he wished he could give Isadora a child, but that would never work. It seemed like the perfect solution, but it wasn’t—just more selfish thinking on his part.
He’d be nearly seventy by the time their child graduated high school. The older he got the more responsibilities would rest on her shoulders. He’d be lucky to see their kids reach Slade’s age. It was simply out of the question.
He watched one child grieve a parent. He wouldn’t do that to another, leaving Isadora with that sort of unbearable loss, the helpless position of explaining to a child that there was no way to bring a parent back.
“Dad, are you listening?” Slade waved a hand in front of Sawyer’s face.
“I was thinking. Sorry.”
“I said, you should get on one of those dating sites. At least then you won’t be spending all your nights alone at the house.”
Sawyer chuckled, not realizing how pathetically his son viewed his social life. “How do you know I don’t have a gorgeous woman in my bed every night?”
“Come on, Dad.”
“You never know. She could be waiting for me at home right now. Naked.”
“If you’re not going to be serious, forget I said anything.”
Thinking of precisely who waited for him, he checked the time and tossed a few bucks on the bar. “You’re right. I’ll take your advice into consideration. But I have to get going.”
There’s a beautiful woman waiting for me…
On the drive home, he considered confiding in his son the next time the topic of dating came up. He tried to imagine how Slade might react to his relationship with Isadora. They always got along well and Slade could possibly keep the information to himself. But nothing stayed secret forever, and Slade wasn’t his biggest concern.
His worry was her family.
The older Lucian got the more he used his aggression as a weapon of intimidation. While Isadora saw a thoughtful industrialist in her brother, Sawyer knew the truth.
Lucian was a son of a bitch to work with. Smart as a whip, but a real cut throat when it came to doing business and he didn’t hesitate to destroy any opposition that stood in his way. Not only that, the kid had a temper that could rival his father’s.
Sawyer had seen both Patras men use their power to resolve personal vendettas. They were extremely territorial and if anyone dared to infringe on what they viewed as theirs, there were sure to be consequences.
The last thing Sawyer wanted was the wrath of a Patras interfering in with his life. And he didn’t want Isadora to deal with that sort of backlash either.
While she might be able to reason with Lucian, Christos would be furious. There was no reasoning with that man. His daughter was smart, beautiful, and wealthy. Christos viewed those qualities as bargaining chips meant for his personal benefit. The man had despicable disregard for his children, which was the primary reason Sawyer kept an eye on them after their mother died.
He could still hear Christos’s words from many years ago. They’d been disturbing enough for Sawyer to maintain the illusion of a friendship with his partner, long after his feelings for the man turned to hate.
“Useless daughters! My son will probably be the death of me, but my daughters…” Christos had laughed as though Isadora and Antoinette were as inconsequential as lint. “Let’s just hope they’re beautiful. My only hope is marrying them off so someone else can support them.
“The older one’s attractive enough. Let them screw whomever they want, but marriage is a business. Their mother never understood that. It’s the only way a father can get a return on an investment like daughters. You’re lucky you only have a son to worry about, Sawyer.”
He’d listened to several ra
nts of the same degrading tone. Enough that Sawyer always felt he had no choice but to keep an eye on all three Patras children. While Lucian had the luxury of being a son, he still suffered. His father had a different form of cruelty for him.
Christos would never approve of his daughter settling with Sawyer. There would be no heirs or advancement of any kind.
Sawyer was quite successful, but not to a Patras standard. And at this point in life, he had little ambition left. This was it and it was a far cry from what Christos expected his daughter to achieve for him whether she was aware of that or not.
That was exactly why he never misled Isadora with words of love. He cared deeply for her, yes. And when they made love he always made sure she felt his affection, but he never wanted to vocalize any promises that would take away from her future or cause her trouble.
He didn’t give a shit about pleasing Christos, but Isadora did. She’d always craved her father’s approval and settling with Sawyer would guarantee she never earned it. Plus, she was born to be a mother. It was simply her nature.
As he pulled into the driveway his mind returned to the same position it had held for years. Their relationship was complicated, too complicated to involve others. They were happy the way things were and that should be enough.
And, in a strange way, the clandestine tone of their liaison worked. It made the flame flicker hotter than ordinary affairs. Hiding created a fast, furious, and scorching thrill that built a hunger unlike anything else. His body warmed just thinking of how hot they could get.
Isadora was wild, untamed, and utterly enchanting. It was almost impossible not to love her. Almost.
His deep affection lent itself to looking out for her, his mind certain their time would eventually end and she’d settle down with someone more suitable. But, for now, he savored every passing moment.
As he entered the house he smiled at the energy in the air, sensing her presence the moment he walked through the door. “Bella?”
“Upstairs,” she called.
He climbed the stairs and saw his bedroom door cracked, light seeping into the hall. Pressing it open, he grinned.
Sacrifice of the Pawn: Spin-Off of the Surrender Trilogy (Surrender Games Book 1) Page 21
