Bookish (10 page)

“I love the view,” he said from behind me.

“I know, the island looks so close from here,” I said and turned. He crossed the living room and took me in his arms.

“I meant you,” he said and kissed me again. I was getting used to his kisses, how demanding his mouth was, how his hands travelled over my body like he owned me, but each and every time was a little different, a little more exciting.

This time I felt it from my knees to my head. A warm wave of desire coursed through my body and I pressed myself against him, felt his hardness press back.

He tasted of liquorice, he still smelled of the beach but I could detect another underlying scent. His musky scent of lust, he wanted me and I could detect it on some animalistic level.

I wanted him, but not yet. Not until the sun went down.

I wasn’t some kind of horny vampire, but I didn’t want our first time to be in the dim light of a rainy afternoon. I wanted it to be more romantic, by candlelight maybe, or in some beam shining in from the moon overhead.

He sensed this and pulled back, stroked my hair and whispered, “I’m starving, love.” I knew he meant starving for me, but he was a perfect gentleman and let me set the pace.

“What are you going to cook for me?” I asked and turned back around to see the view. He wrapped his arms around me and brushed my hair aside to nibble the nape of my neck. I just about stripped naked right then and there, and let him take me in the window, in front of God and the city of Seattle.

Instead I shivered and pulled his arms tighter.

“Whatever,” he said and nibbled up to the back of one ear, “you desire,” he finished breathily in my ear.

I knew exactly what I desired right then, but I resisted…not very well, but I tried. “Something simple?” I suggested, “maybe something fast? Should we just order in?”

He continued to kiss my neck, nibble my ear, and murmured, “As you wish,” against my lobe.

I shivered and said, “Japanese?”

“Sounds perfect.”

With an almost painful motion, we pulled ourselves apart and he found a menu online. We ordered and managed to talk amicably while waiting for our food.

My stomach growled, my stomach did flip-flops and my stomach was in knots when I thought about being naked with him tonight.

The sun started to set over the water by the time the food arrived. Isaac handed the delivery guy a couple hundred dollars and closed the door before the surprised guy could say a thing.

He set the paper bags on the counter and crossed back towards me, the light was growing dim as the sun was finally sliding beyond the horizon and leaving us for other places. He looked absolutely predatory, his muscular body cat-like in its grace and power, and his features shadowed and fierce.

“Dinner is served,” he smiled and reached for my hand. He pulled me off his low, leather sofa and I stumbled, falling into his arms.

I laughed at my awkwardness and looked up as he leaned into me, his lips met mine again but there was something different this time. He had a hunger that was greater than before, as though the delivery had whet more than just his appetite for food. His tongue pinned mine and I whimpered against him, unable to break free, whether I wanted to or not.

And I did not.

He pulled me up against him, his hands cupping me and lifting me. I felt light in his arms, dainty almost. As though I didn’t have my father’s chin that made my face too strong, or my flabby tummy that made Chloe curled her lip up every time she saw it.

As though I was beautiful. As beautiful as he was.

His lips left my mouth and traveled along my neck, my collar bone and lower. He started to lick and suck the skin just above my neckline, and pushed it lower with his chin. His stubble scratched against me and the sensations were almost too much.

He was kissing the swell of my breasts above my bra when I thought I was going to faint. I don’t know if it was the lack of food or the fact that I had feelings coursing through me that I’d never felt before, but in typical clumsy Aubrey fashion, I fell backwards.

“Are you all right, love?” he asked and came up for air. He supported my head and held me upright when he set me to the floor.

“I might be hungry,” I said and offered him a crooked grin. What else could I say? That his mouth on my breast had almost given me a seizure, it felt so good? I could never admit such a thing, and what the hell was going to happen when he took one of my nipples between his lips? Was I going to have a heart attack? A stroke?

I mentally went through the checklist for a stroke and noted nothing unusual on my body.

Maybe it was just hunger, I hadn’t been able to eat anything that day; my nerves had been so shot from waiting.

“Let’s eat,” he said and grinned, “then we’ll work on making you pass out for good reasons, not simply because I’m starving you.”

He winked, flicked on the lights and set out unpacking all the food and laying it out on the table.

It was an exquisite feast paired with what I assumed was an expensive wine. My peasant’s palate couldn’t tell the difference, but I went along with his assessment, nodding like a bobble head with a chunk of sashimi in my mouth.

I wish I could possess even a tenth of the poise and grace he had, even a tenth would be more than I’d ever had. He remained so cool and calm when I felt like I had an overheating freight engine roaring inside my chest.

I guess it made me nervous, how easy this all was. In every book I read, the hero who looked like Isaac was a possessive, cocky asshole who bragged about his lack of commitment. The heroine of course changed him, but not until there were chapters and chapters of witty banter and steamy make out sessions.

She was always feisty and fought against him, but gave in of course, and he always broke down his walls and fell in love with her.

What was happening between Isaac and I felt so different, it felt real, it felt authentic. There were no roles to play, not parts to rehearse…there was just he and I, hanging out and talking.

And him exploding my head the moment he touched me with his…

I had to stop that train of thought or I was going to choke on a square of agadashi tofu.

“Tell me about you,” Isaac said suddenly after a short discussion on the merits of ginger as a palate cleanser.

“What do you want to know?” I asked and popped a chunk of tuna in my mouth, savouring the velvety texture. Thank god I was well practiced with chopsticks, I felt mildly elegant with them in my fingers.

“Everything, love,” he said and gave me a look that sent shivers up my spine, “absolutely everything. There will be time to learn it all, but for now I’m curious as to what you’ll divulge in the beginning.”

“Well, I was born in Brussels, moved here…” my voice trailed off as he looked at me and raised his brow. “What?” I asked.

“I know all that, I have heard you recite your biography,” he said, “but I want to know more about you now. Who hurt you? Why do you have this wall built up around yourself? Why don’t you seem to understand how utterly deliciously gorgeous you are?”

I blushed and sipped my wine; let it swirl around my mouth following the path his tongue had taken many times now. I didn’t exactly know how to answer any of his questions, I wasn’t certain of the answers myself.

“I don’t think I’ve been hurt, but I keep myself at a bit of a distance because people make me nervous. And I think you must have had too much to drink to make that assessment of my appearance.”

“Stop doing that to yourself,” he said.

“What?”

“Stop belittling yourself. You are insulting a person I care for very much, and that offends me.”

“I’ll try.”

“Don’t try,” he commanded, “just do it. Stop putting yourself down, at least when you’re around me. I can’t control what goes on in your head of course, but I can help you discover how beautiful you truly are.”

I started to protest, to deny his assertion, to argue with him and help him see how thick my jawline was, how my nose was too long and narrow, how I was too tall and probably twenty pounds too heavy, but one look from him shut me down. I swallowed my self-deprecation and instead I said, “ Thank you.”

We spent the rest of the meal talking about our lives, as much as I could share…and as much as he could share. I knew I had my walls out, and my boundaries clearly defined, but I sensed the same about him. For all the women he’d been with over the years, I felt as though he’d kept them all at arm’s length.

I helped him tidy up…throw take away containers in the trash really. My kind of housework. Afterwards I felt this overwhelming urge to bolt, to get the hell out of there and run for home. We were probably going to finally have sex, well not finally, but most likely. Even though it hadn’t been my requisite respectable time frame, I wanted it. My god, I wanted it to happen.

But Isaac James. This was Isaac James, hottest man in the world, and he would see me naked I was assuming. Unless I could manage sex with my clothes on. Dammit I should have worn a skirt.

I was so jumpy and stayed by the marble topped island when he moved into the living room. He sat on the low sofa; his long, thick legs splayed out like a big cat in his natural environment.

“I believe I have just now figured something out about you,” he said and stared at me across the few short feet between us.

“And what’s that?” I asked, challenging him to unravel the enigma that was my brain. I still felt like fleeing, but his declaration intrigued me, helped calm my nerves.

“You’re terrified,” he said and smiled, “you’re afraid of me and what this is. I can feel it, you’re a bundle of nerves.”

“What is this?” I asked.

“This electricity we have between us. I know you feel it. I feel it when we’re near each other. I even felt it on Skype those nights I was away. It’s undeniable and it fascinates me…but it terrifies you.”

“Maybe,” I replied slowly, but had to admit to myself he had it spot on.

“Come here,” he said and patted his lap, “have a seat.”

“I don’t think that’s the way to do this,” I sputtered and ran out of words to say. I wanted to go, but some stubborn fearful part of myself stayed put.

“Come here,” he repeated, “be a good girl, Ms. Britton.”

My god, the way he said my name. Ms. Britton. I melted a little. Okay, I melted a lot. But still, he was ordering me. And two could play his game. “Why Mr. James, you are being very forward this evening,” I said in a slight British accent. At least that’s what I hoped I achieved. Hopefully.

“Ms. Britton,” he repeated in his crisp accent and patted his lap again, “I told you to come.”

I did, every little part of me that was fighting his command was booted out the back door by this overwhelming lustful part of me that felt like a sexy little kitten when he spoke like that.

This truly was one of my books coming to life, and I couldn’t have said no even if my mouth hadn’t been so dry and my panties so wet.

I slunk over, the best way I could, and arranged myself delicately on his knees. I perched there, looked down at him and smiled. “Is this acceptable, Mr. James?”

“Not quite,” he said and dragged me down until I was seated firmly across his thighs…and his prominent erection.

“Oh, Mr. James,” I exclaimed and played my part so well it no longer felt like a part. I wasn’t a character in a romance novel, I was
me
, in my life and my life just happened to look like one of the books I read.

“Oh Ms. Britton,” he mimicked me and ran his strong hand along my thigh and pressed it in between my legs. I sighed and loosened up, let his hand explore me and push my legs apart. “I need to see your face,” he said, “look at me, love.”

I turned shyly and watched him as he pulled my leg across him so I straddled him and faced him completely.

“You are beautiful,” he said and ran his hands up my arms, “I love your softness, your stunning eyes, your lips. I love that you don’t know it, you can’t see the effect you have on people.”

“I hardly–” I started to protest, and then remembered his earlier command to stop speaking so badly of myself. Instead I said, “Thank you,” and blushed. I reached out to feel his body, the rippled muscles of his abdomen, his bulging arms, and his strong jaw with the masculine edges. “You’re not bad yourself,” I told him, “but I think you know that, you know the effect you have on people.”

“I do,” he replied, “but not on those who matter. I can’t lie, I’ve been with a lot of women Aubrey, but when I met you it ended. I can’t explain it, but this, everything there is between us, makes me want to be a better man. I wanted to take it slow with you, so I didn’t frighten you or have you assume you’d be just like the others. Then I realized something tonight…”

“What was that?”

“You want to be frightened, don’t you, love?” he said and smiled at me, “you want to be excited and lead…no…ordered into the unknown.”

“Maybe,” I said and felt a thrill travel down my spine at his words. Order. Normally I flinched when I was being told what to do, which is why I kept working where I was. I needed the autonomy.

But when Isaac gave me orders, I melted and I was putty in his hands. “What are your orders, Mr. James?

“Take off your top, Ms. Britton,” he replied, “I want to see your beautiful body.”

I hesitated, but complied when I saw his face. He meant business and there was no stopping him now. I wanted this; I just had to wrestle the mortified logical side of myself back down in order to do it.

And I managed it, so I unbuttoned my shirt slowly and slid it off my shoulders and was finally exposed in front of the hottest man in the world.

Isaac James. I wasn’t wearing a bra and I dropped my shirt to the floor in a soft wave of silk.

“Gorgeous,” he breathed out and reached for me. His hands cupped my breasts and I arched myself towards him, longing for his mouth on my nipple, but unable to demand it of him.

He must be a mind reader as well as the hottest cover model in the world today, because he leaned forward, wrapped his arms around my back and started to suck my breasts

He rolled the nipple between his teeth, so gently that it brought out a fevered urge in me that I’d never found before.