by Isabel Love
Untouchable
Unexpected Love, Book 1
By Isabel Love
Monica Morgan is off limits. One-hundred percent untouchable.
Too bad I didn't know it when we met.
We were just two people in a club, drawn together by chemistry.
Hot, SIZZLING chemistry.
Imagine my surprise when I discover she's my new boss.
Now that we work together, she's determined to keep it professional.
My problem? I can't forget the night we met.
I know there's a sexy siren under that prim and proper exterior. She tries to bury that side of herself away, but I want to be the man to show her it's okay to be professional AND sexy.
I've felt the magic we can make when she loses control.
Because I've already touched her. And I want to do it again.
Warning: This book is recommended for readers over 18 years of age.
Copyright © 2017 by Isabel Love
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage or retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, story lines, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales or any events or occurrences are purely coincidental.
This book is for your personal enjoyment only. Please respect the author’s work by not contributing to piracy and purchasing a copy for those you wish to share it with.
ISBN: 1541237854
ISBN 13: 9781541237858
Cover: Najla Qamber Designs
Image: Deposit Photos
Editing: Editing by C. Marie
Proofreading: Bex Kettner at editing.ninja
Formatting: That Formatting Lady
Beta Readers: Kim Bailey, Christy Baldwin, Kara Hummel, Bex Kettner, Pavlina Michou, Desirae Shie, SM West
Dedication
Chapter 1: Was she even real?
Chapter 2: I want to touch her again.
Chapter 3: You look flushed.
Chapter 4: Piece of cake.
Chapter 5: You have to do this.
Chapter 6: It’s my blowup doll.
Chapter 7: So.
Chapter 8: You are a goddess.
Chapter 9: I bet he could help clear out the cobwebs down there, dear.
Chapter 10: She’s pretty cool.
Chapter 11: You’ve got it bad.
Chapter 12: I’m in awe of those women.
Chapter 13: Is there anything on your desk you need to move?
Chapter 14: I only have so much willpower.
Chapter 15: They can’t keep their hands off each other.
Chapter 16: Fuck. My. Life.
Chapter 17: Well, she’s an idiot.
Chapter 18: Her smile is all I see.
Chapter 19: It’s Max.
Chapter 20: The thing is…I love him.
Chapter 21: This is it.
Epilogue: I can’t wait.
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Excerpts
This book is dedicated to my husband, for not laughing at me when I told you I was writing a book, for supporting me in all I do, for being there in good times and bad.
I love you.
Was she even real?
Monica
The crowded dance floor of Club Bailar is the perfect escape from real life. The heavy beat vibrates in my chest and my body itches to move to the music. It feels so good to get lost in the crowd. Bodies are everywhere, some dancing, some just standing around watching others. Tonight, I am not Dr. Morgan, Director of Emergency Services. Tonight, I just want to be Monica, a 32-year-old single woman in need of a drink, dancing, and no stress.
When was the last time I went out like this? I can’t even remember. Things are so hectic at work and even though I promised myself I wouldn’t let my job take over my life, it seems that it has. Not only that, but I cringe at the thought of a co-worker seeing me at a club. I try to stay away from this side of my life, the part that doesn’t mesh well with being a respected physician. I bury it deep inside of me, but when life gets too stressful, dancing is one of the only ways to ease the pressure and make me feel like myself again.
Forget about work.
The music calls to me, and I close my eyes as I dance and let my body move without thinking, hips rolling, arms thrown up over my head. The dark lighting sets me free and the music reaches into me to pull out all my stress. My muscles burn as my body works, one song turning into another, and soon, I’m sweating. I lift my long brown hair up to cool off my neck and keep it gathered in my hands as I continue to sway.
I love the physical release that comes from dancing.
Soon a man comes up behind me and starts to move with me. My eyes are still closed, so I don’t know what he looks like, but it is most definitely a him. A large broad chest pillows my head and big hands settle on my hips. Sometimes I find dancing with a partner to be too restrictive, especially if their moves don’t match my own, but he matches me step for step, our bodies in sync.
A thrill shoots through me as I feel every inch of him press up against me. He’s tall, but he moves easily, and his grip on my hips starts to control my movements, making my body do what he wants it to. I lean my head back on his shoulder, settling into the rhythm and breathing him in, wanting to drown in this moment. He smells of sandalwood with a hint of citrus and feels amazing behind me.
I lower my hands to the stranger’s arms, which touch me possessively. His forearms are toned and dusted with hair; his hands are big and strong. I feel my way down to the thighs that bracket mine, and his muscles ripple as we continue to move. Mmmmm. He inches forward to get even closer, bending lower to line his pelvis up against mine, and I can feel his hard erection against me.
Oh, my.
My body heats in arousal. How long has it been since I had sex? I can’t even remember. Last year? It hasn’t been that long…has it? Regardless, my neglected body wakes up with this man’s touch.
My stranger leans forward and his cheek touches my face, stubble scraping against my skin and causing me to shiver. “You’re stunning,” he says right into my ear. The deep timbre of his voice rumbles from his chest into mine.
Here’s the thing: I am not stunning. Most days, I’m a plain Jane, my attire consisting of scrubs and tennis shoes, my hair in a messy bun or ponytail, my makeup nothing more than ChapStick and a bit of mascara. Tonight, though, I wear a sleeveless black dress that hugs my curves and cuts off about mid-thigh. My curly brown locks flow down my back, and I took the time to apply some makeup. It’s amazing how putting myself together on the outside changes how I feel on the inside. Right now, in this stranger’s arms, moving to the music with his hands on me, I feel desired—sexy even.
“Thank you,” I say. I’m not sure he can hear me over the loud music, but he nods in acknowledgment.
His nose skims down my cheek to my neck and he lays a gentle kiss there. Goose bumps erupt on my skin at the feel of his lips when he inhales deeply, breathing me in as his hands move slowly up my waist to rest just under my brea
sts.
Oh, God. My breaths speed up and my breasts start to get heavy. This man is making me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time, and I haven’t even seen what he looks like yet.
Without warning, he turns me around. I hesitate before looking up at him, not wanting to ruin the chemistry we have by seeing his face—what if he’s ugly?—but after a moment, curiosity gets the best of me.
Slowly, I open my eyes and get my first good look at him. He’s tall. Of course, I’m 5’2”, so everyone is taller than me, but still, he’s really tall—six foot something. Tall, dark, and fucking hot. I crane my neck up to meet his stunning blue eyes and my mouth falls open. Wow. Dark hair, chiseled cheekbones, and a square jaw make up a model-perfect face. He is utter masculine perfection.
His intense blue eyes rake over me from head to toe, and I feel his look like a touch. We take each other in as best as we can in this lighting, and the air becomes heavy, charged with attraction. Each piece of him—his muscular chest, sinewy arms, tapered waist, and strong thighs—completes my checklist for the perfect man. The icing on the cake: black tribal tattoos peek at me from beneath his short sleeves, making him look that much more masculine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better-looking man.
In no realm of reality would someone who looks like him be attracted to me.
Except…
I see the desire in his eyes as he eats me up with his gaze, and I like it.
I was afraid seeing him would lessen the pull I felt when we were just dancing, but I was wrong. I can’t decide what part of him I like the best. His eyes are by far the most striking feature, so blue I can see the color even in the darkness of the club. Dark stubble decorates his square jawline and my fingers itch to feel it—would it be soft? His lips smile down at me, not cocky but sensual, confident I like what I see.
I smile up at him, too, trying to pull myself together and not gawk like an idiot.
He moves into my space and my heart kicks into overdrive at his proximity. When I just stand there, he takes my hands and places them on his shoulders. Then he wraps his arms around my middle and pulls me close, bending his knees so we are lined up chest to chest. One of his thighs goes in between my legs and he starts to dance again.
Fuck.
I really like the way his body moves…maybe a little too much. It feels so intimate, his thigh beneath me, pushing my dress up as our legs slot together. My nipples tingle when my breasts brush against his body and my hands move up and down his shoulders, feeling his lean muscles. I’m on sensory overload. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, willing my body to relax and just enjoy the attention of such a sexy man.
“What’s your name?” he asks me.
“Can we just dance?” I deflect. I’m not looking to start anything; an anonymous dance is all I want tonight. I’m never going to see this guy again, so exchanging names and getting to know each other is pointless.
He nods, not put off by my refusal to tell him my name. His blue eyes stare into mine, and I am hypnotized. His intense gaze sets my body on fire, and his lips—God, they’re full. As he bites his lower lip, I get the urge to bite it, too. I watch those lips curve into a knowing, sexy grin then my gaze moves from his mouth to his eyes and I feel myself flush. Electricity sparks hot between us, and my body feels like a live wire.
His big hands splay across my back and he leans down to talk directly into my ear. “Can I kiss you?”
I nod and lean up to meet his mouth with mine. Soft—his lips are so soft. His fingers thread into my hair and he pulls me even closer. My eyes flutter shut and I’m lost, my world reduced to the feel of his lips pressing into mine, gently at first, then hungrily.
His tongue licks against my lips and I open my mouth, our tongues tangling. My fingers find their way up his neck and I allow myself to touch his face. Mmmm, his stubble is soft. God, everything about this guy feels good. We kiss and kiss and I feel boneless, breathless. I’m clutching at him and he’s gripping me tightly. It’s like his mouth is a magnet pulling me to him.
He makes me forget that we’re in a crowded club. That I’m a respectable physician in charge of a department. That I don’t need a man to be happy. That I usually feel as if I’m juggling a million pieces in the air every day and if I don’t stay on top of everything, all the pieces will come tumbling down. I forget everything; his kiss melts it all away.
Instead, I feel…. alive. Surrounded by this strong man, in his arms, practically fused to his mouth, I feel…safe. Electric and desired. Judging by the size of the erection rubbing my stomach from behind his jeans, he is as turned on as I am. We grind into each other, and his heart beats so fast I can feel it thump against my chest.
Soon enough, our bodies start to move in a way that mimics sex. His hands skim down my body, from my hips to my bare legs. His touch is hot, waking up each of the nerve endings in its path. He squeezes my thighs then starts trailing his fingers up again, feeling my bare skin. Up and up, his fingers reach the hem of my dress, and he inches it higher, exposing more skin. Both of his hands end up just under my ass, touching the elastic of my underwear.
Oh, God. I’m so wet. Just one inch farther and he’ll be able to feel what he’s doing to me. I feel his groan rather than hear it, the vibration in his throat a pained sound. He rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes, hands still touching me, toying with the edges of my panties.
“Can I touch you?” he rasps into my ear.
I should push him away. I should be appalled that a total stranger wants to feel me up in the middle of a crowded dance floor. I should disentangle myself from him right now and leave.
But I don’t want to. I like his hands on me. My body is so aroused by the sight and feel of him that I’m close to orgasm already. The friction from dancing on his leg with his thigh against my center has my clit throbbing. The dance floor is dark and full of other couples probably doing the exact same thing. No one is paying us any attention.
I give in and nod, needing him to touch me. He clenches his jaw at my response as if trying to stay in control and it looks so damn sexy. Being on the receiving end of his desire is heady. Powerful. He wants me. Me.
His hands grip the backs of my upper thighs, pulling my cheeks apart. I gasp, not expecting that. He swallows my sounds with a kiss, and his fingers slip beneath my underwear. Oh, God. He’s touching me. Fingertips explore me gently, rubbing up and down, spreading my arousal to my clit. I arch my back, leaning into his touch. My legs go weak and I’m not coordinated enough to keep dancing.
The music drowns out my moan but I know he can feel it. One hand grasps my ass firmly and directs my movements as the other continues to rub up and down my pussy while I ride his thigh. My orgasm is approaching, fast and furious. Somehow, the fact that I’m in public makes this even hotter. I can’t believe I’m doing this. The telltale flutters begin and I know I’m about to come. He must feel it because he pulls back from kissing me to look at my face, watching me. Desire and hunger pull his cheeks taut and he looks deep into my eyes, nodding for me to let go.
And I do. I shatter and tremble with the force of my orgasm.
He kisses me deeply as he pulls my dress back down and wraps his arms around me, hugging me close, supporting my weight as I get my bearings.
“That was amazing,” he tells me.
Suddenly, someone on the dance floor bumps into us and reality comes crashing in. I teeter off balance and start to fall sideways.
He steadies me before I trip over his legs and fall to the floor. “You okay?”
“Yes.” Separated from the warmth of his body, I feel suddenly cold. Our little bubble of lust has burst, leaving me a bit disoriented. I wrap my arms around myself and look around awkwardly. What the fuck am I doing? I just let a complete stranger finger me in the middle of the dance floor.
I just had an orgasm.
In a club.
Real classy, Monica.
“You want to get a drink with me?” he asks.
I need to get out of here. This isn’t me. I don’t hook up with strangers. I don’t have one-night stands. I don’t go to clubs, and I have to wake up early tomorrow morning for work.
I smooth my hair and try to slow my breathing. He is still watching me with a look so hot I can practically feel it.
“I have to go,” I mumble, turning to walk off the dance floor. My legs are like jelly, wobbling as I try to lose him in the crowd.
“Wait!” I hear him shout as he maneuvers through the throng to try to catch up with me.
Max
I hold on to my mystery woman’s hand, keeping her close as we exit the dance floor. My overheated body needs to cool down—watching her fall apart in my arms while we danced was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
If only that douchebag hadn’t bumped into us. It totally interrupted our moment and now she’s about to slip right through my fingers. What’s more, it looks like I’m not even going to get her name.
“Are you sure you don’t want some water before you go?” I ask her. I know I could use a drink to cool down, and it would give me a minute to talk to her.
She smiles up at me but it’s brittle. “No, thank you.”
Oooookay. “Do you need to find your friends?” I didn’t see anyone with her, but don’t women usually travel in packs, especially to clubs late at night?
“No. I’m parked right in front. You don’t have to follow me out. I’m good on my own from here.”
Dammit. She can’t go yet. I need one more kiss. I tug on her arm and turn her toward me. Before she can say anything else, I lean down to kiss her. God, she tastes good. She leans into me and I pull her close, tucking her little body into mine. She starts to kiss me back and I think she’s changed her mind about leaving. Her hands settle on my shoulders; her touch feels so good. But then she pulls away. I look down into her hazel eyes, wanting to memorize what she looks like. It’s dark so I can’t see every detail, but her eyes are bright and her cheeks are flushed from her orgasm. Her lips look swollen and I want to kiss them some more. She looks like my every fantasy come to life.
