“Isaac,” she began, because she couldn’t let him say that. She couldn’t let him think that.
He shook his head. “Let me,” he said. “Let me tell you. Lizzie, you’re not perfect.” He smiled, and she did too. Because his smile was that powerful; she saw it, and her own joy grew in response. “You act like it,” he continued. “But the truth is, you’re not. You’re irritable and you’re sharp-tongued. And I like it. You’re not loyal to ideas or rules—you’re loyal to people. You know the difference between what should be and what has to be. I respect that, and I respect you. You’re not perfect, but you are to me. And I don’t care if you get it wrong sometimes. I don’t care if you lose your temper. I don’t even care that you lied to me because I understand why you did it. I forgive you.”
Lizzie clutched at his hands like a lifeline, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t wipe them away. Let him see. If it was the only way to show him, let him see.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Even if you forgive me. I’m still sorry. I always will be. I ruined everything—”
“No,” he said fiercely. “Don’t say that. There’s nothing in the world that can’t be fixed.”
She smiled weakly through her tears. “Or at least taken care of.”
“Yeah,” he nodded slowly. “Taken care of. Anything you want, I’ll do it, because I can’t let this go. Just being near you feels like medicine, and that’s not something you can fake. You aren’t fake, Lizzie. You’re a brilliant performer, not because you make things up but because you make things real. That’s who you are. That’s where your power lies.” He took a deep breath. “You said you were falling in love with me. I didn’t really believe you. But I should have… because I’m already in love with you, and love means expecting the best from someone, not the worst. That’s why love is for the brave. I should’ve been brave, Lizzie. I’m sorry that I wasn’t.”
Her heart soared with his words until it felt like she was really flying; like her spirit was dancing amongst the stars, and nothing could touch her. Nothing could bring her down.
“I love you,” she whispered, because she still felt oddly shy about the fact. She’d never loved anyone like this—with such speed and such surety. The feeling was still strange. It was like ballet had once been: slightly uncomfortable, a challenge she’d never faced before, but one that she already knew she was made for.
Isaac bent down, resting his forehead against hers. “I love you, too,” he whispered. “Is it weird if I say it again?”
“Oh, now you’re all talkative?” She teased.
“I just the gave you the longest speech of my life,” he grinned. “Maybe I’m chatty now. Maybe you’ve changed me.”
“No-one will ever change you, Isaac. And that’s just the way I like it.” She closed her eyes, breathing in the perfection of the moment. Safe inside a darkness of her own making, Isaac’s soft exhalations warming her cheeks, she showed him the contents of her heart.
“I admire you,” she whispered. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, squeezed slightly. That was all the encouragement she needed. “No matter what life throws at you, you always make something of it. You could survive anything. In fact, you’ve survived practically everything. That’s the kind of strength I want to have.”
“You do,” he whispered back. “We’re not so different, Lizzie. Not really.”
“Maybe. I just wanted you to know that I was wrong about you, when we met.” She frowned, shaking her head slightly. “No. I wasn’t wrong. You are who you’ve always been. But I was wrong to see you as anything other than brilliant. You’re like...” Her mind searched for the perfect words, but for once she couldn’t find any. So she borrowed them. “You’re like the rose that grew from concrete.”
Isaac huffed out a little laugh, the puff of air bringing a smile to her face. “Lizzie…” He said slowly. “That was corny.”
Her eyes shot open, and she found him grinning at her, his eyes dancing. She snorted, and then giggles overtook her, and he laughed too, the sound warming her heart.
“You aren’t impressed with my poetry?” She asked between chuckles.
“If you’re going to plagiarise you should try something less popular.” But he was pleased. She could tell. When he was happy, his face transformed from intimidating beauty to adorable sweetness.
God, she loved him.
Lizzie wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him forward to steal a kiss. This time there was no hesitation, no worry to dampen the spark between them, to gentle the passion. They burst into flame as they always had; Isaac’s hands roamed over her hips, her arse, taking ownership of whatever he wanted. Lizzie did the same. After nights spent without him, pushing away even the memory of the way he made her feel, she finally drank him down like air itself. She tugged up his T-shirt, running her palms over the heat of his abdomen, tracing the sensitive skin over his narrow hips. Electricity coursed through her, a spark ready to surge at any moment. He bent and hooked a hand beneath her thigh, pulling until she wrapped a leg around his hip. Now she was deliciously open to him, and he took advantage, pressing himself against her—
“Lizzie! Fifteen minutes!”
They broke apart, gasping and breathless. Isaac leapt back as if he’d been burned, whipping his head to the door—but no-one was there. Olu had been shouting from the kitchen.
Lizzie felt herself smile, even as she adjusted her rumpled clothing. “Are you scared of my brother?” She asked, incredulous.
“No,” Isaac said gruffly. “Just…”
“Just what?!” She laughed.
“Well, he’s your brother.” Isaac shrugged. “I know you love him. I don’t want him to…” He trailed off.
She softened at the worry on his face. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Olu trusts me, and he’ll see that I trust you. He’ll come around.”
“Lizzie!” Olu called again.
“Okay,” she shouted back. “Thanks!” And then, to Isaac: “I need to go and take my insulin.”
“Alright,” he nodded. “See you in a sec.”
Feeling giddy as a schoolgirl, Lizzie headed for her bedroom. But not before pressing a kiss to Isaac’s cheek as she passed.
And she was almost positive that he blushed.
Twenty-Nine
Isaac settled onto one of the room’s fancy-ass sofas and waited. He’d have to leave soon; they were having dinner. But even the prospect of parting with Lizzie couldn’t dampen the joy shooting through his bloodstream like a comet across the sky.
The old worries nipped at his heels, of course. This can’t last. It’s too perfect. Blink, and it’ll disappear.
He kicked them away, sent them whimpering back into the shadows. Because fuck everything else that had ever happened to him. This was different. This was Lizzie.
But even amid his happy haze, Isaac’s instincts remained razor-sharp. He felt a presence in the doorway and looked up to find Keynes watching him, his gaze like a laser.
Isaac nodded in the other man’s direction, grunting a greeting. This was Lizzie’s brother, after all. And they were in the man's home.
Keynes stepped into the room, his arms folded and his stride slow but sure. Like a prowling lion.
“You ignored my warning,” he said, his voice a wall of neutrality. So like Lizzie. And yet Isaac couldn’t read this man at all.
“Yes,” he said carefully. “I needed to see her.”
“Apparently so,” Keynes murmured. He wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing down at the city’s twilight streets. If his silence was an attempt to break Isaac, it would fail. If the man wanted answers, he’d have to ask the fucking questions too.
Apparently, after a while, Keynes realised that. He turned away from the window and came to the centre of the room, sitting opposite Isaac. Which was interesting. Isaac had expected the other man to remain standing, to employ whatever cheap power play he could.
But of course, Keynes wa
sn’t cheap. He was expensive.
“You have developed an obsession with my sister,” he said. “Is that it?”
“No.” Isaac gritted out. Not in the way you mean.
Keynes ignored that, studying his nails with great interest. They were perfectly manicured, no doubt. “You wouldn’t be the first,” he continued. “Lizzie is considered quite beautiful.”
“I know she’s beautiful,” Isaac said slowly. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
“We have no money,” Keynes went on. “As of today, actually. We’ve been cut off.”
“Good thing I’m loaded then, isn’t it?” Isaac said, leaning back in his seat. The man was an amateur. The only thing he’d ever had over Isaac was his money, his power. And he’d just admitted to losing it. This would be an easy win.
Except, he realised suddenly, winning wasn’t the point. This wasn’t a battle. This was Lizzie’s brother, her family. And if Isaac wanted to remain in her life without tearing it apart… Well. He’d better change tactics.
“Listen,” he said. “I don’t want to argue with you.” The sudden change in his tone seemed to startle Keynes. The other man shifted, perhaps unconsciously, but such simple body language was easy enough to decipher. He was intrigued. He was listening.
“I’m in love with your sister,” Isaac told him. “And you’re important to her. She’d do anything for you. I experienced that first hand. So I’d like it if we could get on. Yeah?”
Keynes’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. “What do you mean, you experienced that first hand?”
Isaac shrugged.
“You know about Spencer,” Keynes said slowly. “That he was blackmailing Lizzie. Don’t you?”
“Yep.”
“Did Lizzie…” Keynes hesitated, clearly struggling with his words. “Did Lizzie hurt you to protect me?”
Isaac shook his head. “I’m not telling you about that. That’s her business.”
But apparently, Keynes needed no confirmation. His foot tapped compulsively against the thick carpet as he stared at Isaac. “She did, didn’t she? That’s why she’s been so upset. Not because you hurt her. She hurt you. And… here you are.” He studied Isaac with the kind of curiosity usually found in scientists discovering a new species. “You do love her, don’t you?”
Isaac said the only thing he could. “Who wouldn’t?”
Before Keynes could answer, the sound of footsteps reached Isaac’s ears. Both men turned as one towards the door, just in time to see Lizzie appear with a smile on her face. Her real smile. The one that made his heart sing.
“Hey, you two,” she said, coming to sit beside Isaac—and just that little gesture filled him with pride. She was his. They were a pair. She felt it, just the same as him. “Are you having a nice chat?” She asked drily.
“Yes,” Keynes said, to Isaac’s surprise. “We are. In fact, we were just about to discuss tomorrow.”
They were?
“You were?” Lizzie asked brightly. “Is Isaac coming? I think that’s a great idea!” She turned to look at him with sparkling eyes. He had not a single fucking clue what was going on, but he nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, brilliant,” she grinned. “It’ll be even better. I think Mark’s scared of you.”
Mark?
“The Spencer family are due to return to their estate tomorrow morning,” Keynes said, his voice businesslike. “We will go in the early afternoon and have a little… chat with Mark.”
Ah. “Right,” Isaac said. “Good. Want to speak to him.”
“Lord, don’t say it like that,” Lizzie murmured. “You make speak sound like a euphemism for strangle.”
Isaac simply shrugged.
Keynes checked his watch and said, “Dinner should be ready in five minutes. Will you stay, Isaac?”
“Uh…” he studied the other man’s face. The offer appeared genuine, if grudging. “Okay,” he said finally.
“Good. You should sleep here. We’re leaving early.”
“...Okay?”
“Excellent.” Keynes slapped his palms against his knees. “You’ll have the sofa.”
“Oh,” Lizzie said. “But what about—?”
“The sofa,” Keynes repeated firmly. “I haven’t had time to change the sheets in the spare room. We had friends over,” he added to Isaac. As if this were a normal conversation. As though the two of them were accustomed to casual chats.
“But Isaac can just sleep wi—”
“The sofa!” Keynes said again, standing up abruptly. “Anyway! Dinner! Off we go, everyone.”
Isaac didn’t bother to hide his smirk.
Keynes turned out to be a good cook, which was unexpected. In fact, over the course of their dinner, Isaac found himself surprised by the man again and again.
“You should be my personal chef,” Lizzie moaned around a bite of chickpeas. It was delicious. But Isaac really needed her to sound less fucking sexy if he was gonna have a chance in hell of finishing his food.
“We’ll get you a personal chef,” Keynes answered. “I meant to talk to you about that, actually. You need a dietician.”
There was a pause, but Keynes didn’t seem to notice. He took a sip of his wine as if nothing out of the ordinary had been said.
“Olu,” Lizzie murmured, her voice gentle. “We can’t do things like that anymore. Remember?”
Keynes shook his head dismissively. “Don’t be silly. A personal chef is only—what, forty grand a year? That’s fine. It’s important.”
“I thought you didn’t have any money?” Isaac asked baldly.
“We don’t,” Keynes said. “Just my savings. And my property. I don’t know; I’ll talk to my accountant at some point.”
Isaac’s jaw dropped. “That’s your idea of no money?”
Keynes shrugged. “What’s a million pounds, when you get down to it?”
Suddenly, Isaac felt a weight on his thigh. Lizzie’s hand, beneath the table, pressing hard into the muscle of his leg. Snatching his attention. He met her eyes and saw a message there, full of humour: don’t bother.
Then she turned to face her brother and asked brightly, “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“Well,” Keynes said, clearing his throat like a politician. “As you know, Theo and I engaged in some reconnaissance earlier today. It was fruitful, to say the least. Lizzie, do you have any idea what Mark was trying to gain when he blackmailed you?”
“Well… He wanted me to get information that he could use against Isaac. In case Isaac refused to sign his contract.”
“I see.” Keynes turned his intelligent gaze to Isaac. “Your books are popular, correct? You make a lot of money?”
“Some,” Isaac hedged. Old habits died hard.
“They’re very popular,” Lizzie said. “He’s a best seller.” Was that… pride in her voice? Isaac’s heart warmed at the thought. Her hand remained on his thigh, and now its slight weight reminded him of other touches. Touches he was determined to claim tonight, everything else be damned.
“But you haven’t signed this contract,” Keynes said. His voice snapped Isaac out of the beginnings of a lustful reverie. “Why not? It isn’t your typical boilerplate?”
“Uh… No.” Isaac pushed down the vestiges of his desire, avoiding Lizzie’s gaze. It did dangerous things to his composure. “My guy looked at it. Told me not to sign. Said Mark was trying to cheat me.”
“I see,” Keynes murmured. “Who is your lawyer?”
“Kev Palmer. But he’s not a lawyer. He just reads a lot of books.”
Keynes arched a brow. “And you trust his opinion?”
“He’s been locked up for twelve years. When I say he reads a lot, I mean a lot.”
“Ah,” Keynes said. “How… Interesting. Maybe I could speak with him about—well, never mind that. My point is that I believe your man’s right, Isaac. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if Mark has been offering dishonest contracts for at least the last six months. The man is absolutely drowning in d
ebt.”
“Oh, God,” Lizzie whispered. “Candy. We have to tell Candy.”
“I wouldn’t worry about telling anyone,” Keynes said. “After we visit Mark tomorrow, I believe this whole thing will be nicely ironed out.”
Isaac arched a brow. “Really?”
But Keynes seemed completely confident as he tore up a piece of naan. “Oh yes. You’ll understand when we explain the plan after dinner. But for now, know this: Mark Spencer will wish he’d never even set eyes on my sister.”
And the threat in his voice was so very dire that Isaac believed him.
He’d been waiting for her.
Lizzie knew as soon as she saw him, standing by the room’s wall of glass and staring out into the moonlight, his broad back to the door. He was in nothing but his briefs, and she saw his muscles tighten as she crept into the room, her movement unnaturally loud in the pre-dawn quiet. But he didn’t turn. He didn’t speak. He simply waited.
And looked damn good doing it.
Lizzie padded across the carpet on bare feet, her silken robe cool against her fevered skin. She swallowed as her eyes followed the sweeping lines of his body; the dips and ridges of his muscled flesh. He was so strong.
But he’d kneel for her.
She rested her palm against his shoulder, and he exhaled as though he’d been holding in a long breath. His head fell back, and she saw that his eyes were closed, his expression pained.
“Did you shut the door?” He rasped.
“Yes.”
“Good.” In one swift movement, he turned and pulled her against his body. His hands slid beneath her arse, lifting her up into his arms until their faces were level—until his thick shaft grazed the core of her desire. She whimpered at the pleasure that spiralled through her at just that small touch.
“Shh,” he whispered, right before he claimed her mouth with his.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lizzie registered the fact that they were moving. But she barely felt Isaac’s slow steps; all she could focus on was the feel of his lips against hers, of his tongue teasing its way over her own until she surrendered, opening to him completely. He growled against her mouth and the kiss deepened, gradually descending into a chaotic desperation that matched her need perfectly. Holy fuck, she wanted him.
Undone by the Ex-Con: A BWWM Romance (Just for Him Book 2) Page 24
