Isabelle was so chagrined at having company that she almost missed the way Mary’s eyes went wide. “It’s just Jill,” she said in reassurance, but Mary didn’t seem less disturbed. And when Jill came around the side of the SUV, her eyes went wide, too. She froze in the act of holding up a bottle of champagne in one hand and a cake pan in the other.
Well, that was interesting. And there was cake.
“I’m sorry,” Jill said, frozen in the glow of the truck’s headlights. “I just wanted to say congratulations to Tom. And to you, of c-course,” she stammered.
Very interesting. Jill never stammered.
“Come in,” Isabelle said, waving everyone toward the stairs before the wind froze her solid.
“I’ve got to go,” Mary said flatly.
“Me, too,” said Jill.
“Oh, come on,” Tom scoffed. He reached past Mary to turn off the truck. “Jill, you brought champagne, and Mary, you earned it. Get inside.”
Jill headed up the steps with Isabelle. Mary cleared her throat and didn’t move until Tom closed the truck door. She followed him up the walk.
“I’ll get glasses,” Isabelle said quickly, hoping to move it along. She had only wineglasses, but no one complained as Jill popped open the bottle and began to pour. No one said anything at all, in fact. Jill set the bottle down, muttered something about plates and rushed toward the kitchen before Isabelle could get there.
“What’s going on with you?” Isabelle whispered as soon as she caught up.
“She drove by my house this morning,” Jill answered.
“So?”
“So, my guest was leaving.”
“Oh.” Isabelle cringed. “It’s okay. You’ll never see her again once she leaves the judge’s house. What’s the big deal?”
Jill groaned. “I think she’s cute. And it was the worst possible moment I could’ve seen her.”
“Oh,” Isabelle said. Then, “Oh!” Tom’s absolute conviction about Mary’s feelings made sense now. “Well...” Isabelle said, trying to spin it. “Now you seem like a hot commodity. So it’s good.”
Jill’s look said she wasn’t buying a word of it, so Isabelle didn’t try again. She knew how embarrassed her friend was about the whole thing, but maybe grumpy-pants out in the living room wasn’t the best fit anyway. “Come on,” Isabelle said as she grabbed forks and a knife. “Cake fixes everything.”
“No, but the champagne might help,” Jill muttered.
A boomingly awkward silence fell over the living room as they took seats and Jill sliced the Bundt cake.
“Is it lemon?” Isabelle asked, trying to break the quiet, but Jill only nodded.
Tom tried next. “Jill’s an amazing baker,” he said to Mary. “That’s not usual for a chef, is it, Jill?”
“I suppose not, but my mother was a baker, so I learned how to bake before I could read.”
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Outside Birmingham.”
“Really? Your Alabama drawl isn’t that strong.”
She grinned and seemed to finally relax a little. “I left home at sixteen and moved to California for a good long while. I suppose I didn’t want to sound country once I got there.”
Now that the conversation was going, Isabelle accidentally interrupted it with a loud moan. Three pairs of eyes locked on her. “Sorry,” she said past a mouthful of cake. “This is so good. It’s still warm.”
Tom took a big bite and made embarrassing pleased noises, too. “So good,” he agreed. “Thank you. You really are the best.”
“Well, thank you,” Jill said, raising her glass. “I’m gonna sleep a lot better to...night.” The last word dragged through her throat as if she’d tried to put the brakes on.
Tom was the only one who didn’t notice. He simply raised his glass with another “Thank you” and took a big drink. Isabelle and Mary stared at Jill for a moment before sipping from their glasses. Jill drained hers.
That must have helped, because she relaxed and told a few stories about Alabama. Then it came out that Mary was from a place in Georgia only two hours from Birmingham and they knew a lot of the same landmarks and history.
As the two women began to talk, Isabelle and Tom raised their eyebrows at each other, and each had another piece of cake.
“So,” Jill eventually asked, “are you two almost done here? There aren’t any more bad guys to catch.”
Isabelle thought Mary’s head jerked up at that, but when she looked, she didn’t catch Mary watching.
Tom shook his head. “Some of the team will probably leave, but our core group will stay until the end of the trial. The Stevensons are a small clan, but we can’t be sure how small.”
“All right,” Jill said. “Well... Before you leave, you should all come over for dinner at my place. I’ll do it up right. Try out a new menu.”
“Deal,” Tom said immediately. “You should really take up catering. You’d be the go-to caterer for every event.”
She slapped his arm, but her face glowed with pleasure. “Then I’d have to keep some kind of schedule. I like what I’ve got going on here.”
“I like it, too,” he said as Mary stood. “But that’s totally selfish on my part.”
Jill stood, too, and started for the door, but Tom held up a hand as he started to get up. “I’ll take you home.”
“I’ll drive her,” Mary said tersely.
Tom hesitated then sat slowly back down. “Okay.”
The two women left without another word. Isabelle looked at Tom next to her on the couch. “Is that a thing?” she asked in confusion.
“I don’t know. But I was kind of hoping it might be.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but this morning—” He cut himself off and shot her a glance.
She nodded. “Jill was really, really embarrassed.”
Tom winced. “Well, maybe those two crazy kids will work something out on the drive home.”
She grinned. “It’s a pretty short drive.”
“Yeah, but you women on Spinster Row work crazy fast.”
Laughing, she let her body lean into him just the way it wanted to. Tom’s arm fit around her shoulders as if it belonged there. She melted into him and sighed with pleasure.
“Are you as tired as I am?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Want to go to bed?”
“Yes.” And it was that simple. Despite everything hanging over her, despite the fear of the past twenty-four hours, she forgot everything and just said yes.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THIS WAS SOMETHING NEW, Isabelle realized. The first time they were undressing and simply getting in bed together like civilized adults. But there was no reason to be too civilized about it. Isabelle stripped down to her panties, but she left her shirt on just because she wanted to feel him taking it off her.
Tom seemed to notice what she’d done and left his briefs on before he slid under the covers. That was fine with her. She wanted him to feel her hands dragging those off.
She took down her hair and got beneath the covers, too. Before she was even settled, Tom was on his elbow leaning above her, his bare chest and shoulders filling her vision. She reached for him without thinking, her hand seeking out the muscles of his chest.
“You look so beautiful,” he said, smoothing out her hair on the pillow.
“Maybe you’re tired.”
“No,” he said simply. “I’m just really happy I’m here tonight.”
“Me, too.” She traced a finger around his nipple, and he shivered.
“Jesus, you turn me on,” he said.
She laughed in delight as she felt his hand trail up her arm.
“This shirt turns me on, too.” His fingers dipped all the way down the narrow front opening. “Did you know it would? Did you wear it for me?”
She only gave a coy smile as his hand kept moving down, skimming over her abdomen and pushing the blanket out of the way. He touched her hip and then her t
high, his hand still light and slow. This was exactly what she’d wanted. Time and touch. Long moments of exploring, just this one chance for that.
His knuckles brushed the little pink panties she’d worn for him, and Isabelle shivered. She slid a foot up, bending her knee, but Tom had already moved on, curving over her belly.
He’d been watching the slow path his hand traveled. The only light in the room this time was from her bathroom, but it was more than enough to light her body and his hand and his gorgeous profile as he ducked his head to kiss her breast. He found her nipple through the thin fabric of her shirt and caught it with his teeth.
Her breath hitched, and she set a hand to his neck, despite that she was trying to hold on to her patience. She’d wanted it slow, and Tom was willing to give it to her.
The heat of his mouth teased her, and his teeth scraped over the slippery fabric, tormenting her. She felt his hand edge beneath the bottom of her shirt, and she tried not to squirm. He felt good against her stomach. She wanted to enjoy just that, and not anticipate what it would feel like when he cupped her breast and pressed his teeth into her nipple until she cried out.
But then her nails were against his neck, and her other hand was shaping the tight muscles of his shoulder, and she was arching into his mouth. His arms flexed as he shifted above her, and Isabelle slid a hand down to feel his biceps. He wasn’t bulky; he was lean and hard, and he felt so strong. “God,” she breathed, “you’re gorgeous.”
His hand spread over her breast, cupping her for a brief moment before he pushed her shirt up. Yes. She wanted his mouth on bare flesh now. She was already done with teasing. But Tom wasn’t.
She let go of him to get her shirt off, but he was still poised above her instead of pouncing on top of her. “I could look at you forever,” he said. She shook her head, but he didn’t notice because he was tracing a fingertip around her tightening areola.
He licked his fingers then spread the moisture over her nipple, making her groan in frustration. Tom smiled, but she knew how to get him back.
Isabelle wrapped her hand around his and dragged it up her chest to her neck and then her jaw. When his fingers touched her mouth, she opened for him and sucked one finger inside.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathed as she drew at his finger. “I love your mouth.”
She slid his finger slowly out. “I love your fingers,” she said, licking the next one until he pushed it into her mouth. He watched as though it was the most important thing he’d ever seen. She rubbed her tongue firmly against the pad of his finger, and his eyelids fluttered. When she bit his knuckle, his eyes were wide-awake again.
She pulled his wet finger free with a pop and chuckled. “You’ve got nice hands,” she said, licking at the space between his fingers. “But your arms are spectacular.”
“My arms?” he asked a little vaguely.
“Yes.” She pulled his arm higher and licked the underside of his wrist. “They’re so different from mine. You’re so hairy and lean, and I can see the muscles work beneath your skin.” She turned his arm over and rubbed her mouth lightly against the golden hair there.
He swallowed hard. “That’s why your arms are nicer,” he breathed. “They’re soft and smooth...”
“No. No, this is better.” She bit at the bulge of muscle in the middle of his forearm. “So much better.”
He jerked when she pressed her teeth too hard, so she soothed the mark with her tongue and then licked all the way up to the inside of his elbow. She sucked there, and his breath hissed in.
He’d finally had enough, and he pushed up on his hands to lean over her. He kissed her then, filling her with the taste of him, pressing his whole, gorgeous body against hers. She could tell he was trying to keep his weight off her, but she pulled him down, wanting it all. She wanted taste, smell, touch, sound, weight, heat, everything that was Tom Duncan.
His cock was pressed to her now, and she rocked against him as he kissed her, rubbing her clit over the length of him. Such sweet pleasure, and so dull compared to what she wanted.
But it felt good, making out like teenagers, soft fabric separating them from each other as the head of his cock pressed between her legs, and she swallowed his moan. He pressed harder against her, and she knew she’d soaked through her underwear and into his, but he couldn’t get any deeper. Still, she clutched his ass in her hands and pulled him harder to her clit. Harder. Yes.
He broke free of the kiss. “God, Isabelle. Please.”
“Please, what?” she asked.
“This,” he growled, rising to his knees to grab her panties and yank them down. She brought her legs up so he could slide her underwear off her feet.
She grabbed a condom, but when he reached for it, she shook her head. “Let me,” she said as she reached for his underwear.
His fingers wrapped around hers. “Wait. I want to taste you.”
Isabelle ignored him and cupped her hand over the shape of his cock. “No. I want to get fucked.”
His hand tightened for a moment, a small spasm of need before he let her go. She tugged down his briefs, and his cock sprang free of the fabric.
“Oh, God, Tom. You’re so fucking big for me.” His breath grew harsher as she wrapped her hand around him. She felt a little crazed, too. “I love it. I want it inside me.”
He didn’t say “Yes” or “Hurry” or even nod his head. He just watched as she squeezed hard and moved her hand slowly up his shaft until a drop of precome formed at the tip.
“So nice,” she murmured.
“Put the condom on,” he ordered, his voice harsher than she’d heard before.
Isabelle smiled up at him, but he didn’t look amused. “Right now?” she asked.
“Yes,” he growled. “Now.”
She opened the condom and rolled it slowly onto his cock. So slowly. Until he was pressing forward, trying to hurry her along. “Now fuck me,” she said, still smiling.
She’d been playing at control, but he wasn’t playing anymore. He grabbed one of her legs and pressed her knee up and over until she was on her belly. Isabelle’s pulse quickened, pushing blood into her tight clit.
He wasn’t careful this time. His hips were between her spread legs, and his cock caught at the notch of her pussy, and he pushed into her. Hard.
The breath was shoved out of her with his thrust. His next thrust was even harder.
“Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” she gasped. This was what she wanted. To be fucked as if he’d die if he didn’t get deeper.
His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her up on her knees, his fingers digging in hard as he thrust again. Isabelle put her face into her pillow and moaned. He’d given her too much, too soon, and the pleasure bordered on pain. She loved it.
He held himself still inside her for a long moment, letting her feel the way her body was trying to stretch to ease his way. She heard him let out a long breath as if he were gathering himself before he began to move inside her.
He started with a slow, hard rhythm that made her fists curl into the sheets. “Yes,” she gasped into the pillow. “Yes, like that.”
“I love fucking you,” he rasped.
“Yes,” she said again. She wanted him to love it. She wanted to be the best he’d ever had. She wanted him still thinking about it ten years from now when he was settled down with someone nicer, someone more stable, someone whose entire life wasn’t a lie that kept her from the world. If this was all the love she’d get from him, then she wanted him to love fucking her more than he’d ever love it with anyone else.
She forced her fingers to unclench from the sheets and slipped a hand down her stomach.
“Yes,” he said. “Touch yourself. It’s so fucking hot when you do that.”
Not as hot as it was for her. Her clit was hard under her hands, her pussy slick. She rubbed herself and arched into his next thrust, trying to take him deeper, deeper. So deep it would hurt.
He held her still and fucked her as she
touched herself, her cries getting louder as her pleasure built. She loved his hands so tight on her. His cock so big. The sound of his hips slapping into her ass. The way her clit got tighter and tighter with every stroke.
She loved the way he was polite and reserved, and then he fucked her just the way she needed. Just like she— “Yes,” she cried out as the orgasm built into impossible tightness inside her.
She keened as the pressure crested, and then suddenly it was upon her, taking her under.
She felt the cry in her own throat, but she couldn’t hear it past the rushing pleasure, and she couldn’t feel anything of his body anymore, only hers. It was nearly violent, as if she’d break apart in joy, but finally the waves ebbed and she could hear again, could feel his fingers on her hips and his cock so tight inside her.
She was shaking, gasping for breath, and he was so strong and still behind her. She was wondering if he’d already come, too, but then he moved within her, a slow, long stroke. His hand left her hip and smoothed over the small of her back, tilting her hips up even more as he fucked her. Her thighs shook, but she didn’t give in to the weakness. She stayed on her knees for him, because that was what he wanted.
His strokes quickened as his breath got ragged, and she expected him to crash into her with his orgasm, but in the end, he held himself still. So still. His hips hard against hers as he buried himself deep. She felt his cock pulse inside her as he came, but his hips didn’t move.
She’d never felt a man come like that. As if he wanted to feel every cell in his body as he climaxed.
His breath left him on a long sigh, and he finally pulled free of her. Isabelle collapsed, facedown. She couldn’t quite breathe, and she didn’t quite care. She was exhausted, in every way possible.
She heard Tom return to the bed. She felt the sheets settle over her naked body and then the comforting weight of the blankets. Even better, he slid in next to her, and his heat soaked through her sweat-cooled back.
“Is it all right if I stay?” he murmured near her ear.
Isabelle thought she nodded, but she wasn’t sure. She just moved back until her ass was pressed tight to him, and she fell asleep.
Flirting with Disaster & Fanning the Flames Page 19
