Rocky Mountain Hero (To Love Again Book 3) (7 page)

Too wanton, too willing to be taken, Isabel solemnly nodded her head. Here she was nearly naked in her kitchen. It was what she’d tell her clients – go with the flow. If your partner is aroused and you don’t feel threatened, just go with the flow.

He rewarded her submission with a quick smile, then spun her around. Cupping her chest, he quickly unhooked her bra and her breasts sprang free. Isabel shivered head to toe, but cold was the furthest thing from her mind.

Tray slid the straps down over her arms until he had her wrists together behind her. He wound the material lightly around her wrists and whispered close to her ear. “To the bedroom. March.”

Isabel led the way with Tray clasping her wrists gently from behind. Her entire body thrummed with anticipation and she could feel the hot wetness between her legs as she strode toward the bedroom – her nipples taut and divining the way before her.

At the edge of the bed, she stopped.

“Don’t move,” he commanded huskily, as he released her. She heard the metal of his belt buckle unclasp and the wrench of his zipper.

She stood stock still, eyes closed and trying to still her heart which pounded wildly in her ears. He inched closer to her and his hardness bounced against the small of her back.

“Are you all right, Isabel?” he whispered gently over her shoulder.

“More than all right,” she replied, turning to his soft kiss on her cheek.

The play was on again as his arm tightened across her chest, his hand clasping the warm flesh of her right breast. His other hand slid into the cleft between her thighs, rubbing, probing, seeking. She moaned in desperation. Had she ever wanted anyone so much? She couldn’t think straight, her body on fire with sensation.

Tray pressed his erect shaft against her back, bending slightly to rub between her buttocks. His breathing was labored and she didn’t think she could take him teasing her much longer.

His finger slid from it’s hot home between her thighs and he encircled both breasts, lifting her leg with his knee.

“Put one knee up on the bed,” he ordered, the urgency clear in his voice.

As she placed her knee on the bed, he bent his knees slightly. As her weight settled into the mattress he plunged upward, burying his cock inside her. A million stars shot through her stomach, up through her chest, her neck and finally out through her mouth, where all she could do was whimper. Her head swam as he pushed deep and deeper inside her. His need insistent, his heat filling her.

“Oh Tray, fill me, fill me,” she cried. Her pleasure mounted, the waves building higher and higher.

Her breasts were cupped firmly by his large hands and he pulled her slightly upright and backwards as he rolled her nipples firmly between his thumbs and forefingers.

Suddenly embarrassed, Isabel remembered the mirror on the far side of the bed and glanced up. She flushed as her eyes met Tray’s in the glass. Time stood still in their bubble of two.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, in barely a whisper.

Her heart surged and she was filled with wonder at being here with this gorgeous man. Filled with wonder and filled with Tray who was lunging into her again with urgent groaning. His large shaft slid in and out, further and deeper, and he increased the pressure on her nipples, growing ever more sensitive by the moment.

“Now baby, now baby, now baby,” he chanted, in rhythm with his pumping. He increased the pressure again on her rock hard nipples and the first roar of release surged through her.

“Aaaaah,” she screamed in a voice she barely recognized as her own. “Tray, Tray,” she called out again and again as her orgasm coursed through her, over her, weakening her knees and enveloping all her senses.

“Is-a-bel,” howled Tray as he thrust deeply inside her and froze. His body shuddered into hers, locking them together in a primal embrace.

A jumble of arms and legs and kisses, she collapsed beneath him onto the bed.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The lights were dim at Ercole, Isabel’s favorite Italian restaurant, and they were ushered in like favorite family guests to a small, quiet table at the back of the restaurant.

This was a restaurant she’d frequented with Chet before they’d had children, and which she knew Chet frequented with his many lovers while she was at home changing diapers and reviewing homework. Still, she loved the family ambience, the efficient almost-invisible service, and the food – like no other she’d eaten.

Tray’s eyes sparkled across the table at her. He was still glowing from their lovemaking. He’d taken her completely by surprise. She hadn’t expected him to have that much fire in him. She felt weak-kneed at the vision of him over her on the bed, when their eyes had met in the mirror. Her cheeks flushed with the memory.

Tray quickly made selections for them both, ordering the house specialty, a platter of risotto with stuffed veal, artichoke hearts, stuffed tomato and garnished with the freshest of asparagus. He ordered a robust wine to accompany the meal, the waiter nodding his approval.

Once again, he surprised her with his knowledge and sophistication. Like earlier this evening. What had happened to his ‘alleged’ lack of confidence she wondered. She liked this new Tray - Tray in charge.

Still, she was aware of the not-so-discreet looks of some of the other diners. Tray was a young man, and she was – well, not as young as he was. She knew she was still young-looking, some would even say beautiful, but Tray looked younger any way she wanted to spin it.

He pushed the antipasto plate in her direction and she scooped the last bit into her mouth just as the waiter arrived to retrieve the empty platter.

Dinner was delicious, the veal mouth-watering and the risotto a feast suitable for a gourmand.

“To new friends,” she raised her glass in Tray’s direction.

“And new lovers.” He smiled and clinked his glass against hers.

Isabel swirled the wine around in her glass, gazing over the top at Tray. He clearly had something to say, but she could sense an air of reluctance.

She waited, surveying the other patrons in the restaurant, while fidgeting with the napkin in her lap and waiting on the waiter to bring coffee and dessert.

A part of her was dying to hear what was causing him so much trouble, but a larger part still was hoping that he wouldn’t say it at all. Curiosity killed the cat, is what her mother used to say. Sometimes you were better off not knowing. Take Chet for example. For a long time, she’d been better off not knowing. But in the end, she knew it was better to walk through life with eyes open, than with eyes closed.

“Looks like you have something on your mind,” she smiled, prompting him.

Tray met her gaze and pushed his fingers through his hair. “I do. I’m just not sure how to say it.”

“I find it’s helpful to be direct. Just say it. I’m a big girl.”

“You keep telling me that, you’re a big girl. From where I sit, you’re all woman.”

She blushed with delight. “Why thank you, kind sir.”

“Here’s the thing Isabel,” he started, leaning forward. “It’s not working for me like this.”

“What’s not working?”

“Having the weekend that we had and now just walking away.”

Walking away? They were having dinner, had just finished a mind-blowing love-making session. This was walking away? “Dinner? The session at the house? This doesn’t feel like walking away to me.”

Tray’s face dropped and her heart went out to him. She reached across the table and placed her hand over his. “Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

“It’s us. I want there to be an us. Not just a sexual liaison, not just a long one-night stand.”

Isabel’s head raced in a hundred directions. An us? Ohmigawd. She wasn’t ready for an
us
. But there it was - this just confirmed her feeling that she should’ve cut it off at the end of the weekend. When he dropped her off on Monday, that should’ve been the end of it.

What had she been thinking? It was only in a moment of weakness that she’d even begun to think of seeing him again. And then, like some built-in radar, he arrived at her door, right at the moment she’d decided she could see him again.

“Look, this is my fault. When you came over tonight, I should have explained.”

“Explained what?”

“I am willing to see you again, but only for the sex.”

Tray’s face registered surprise, then darkened with anger. “You call what we just shared ‘sex’? Are you kidding me?”

“Tray, please understand…”

“What we just shared… I can’t believe that you didn’t feel as much as I did. We went somewhere magical together. That wasn’t just sex.”

“It’s like I told you before, it’s easy for people to mistake sexual feelings for something deeper.”

He stared at her in disbelief. She might have slapped him across the face.

“You can’t believe that, Isabel.”

“I do. And when you’re more experienced-”

“More experienced?”

The anguish that crossed his face wrenched her heart. “That’s not what I meant. You know it isn’t. I meant… it doesn’t matter. It would never work between us. You’re so young.”

“I’m not as young as you think.”

“I think I’ve already I’ve figured that out. You know too much about the world. At first I thought you were mid-twenties. Now I know you’re older.”

“How old?”

“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine.”

Tray locked her gaze and raised his eyebrows.

“Thirty?”

“I’m thirty-five, Isabel.”

“Thirty-five?” She spit out the words and a few heads turned near by, so she lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “Thirty-five? Come on, you don’t expect me to buy that.”

“It’s true. I could show you my birth certificate.”

“Then why were you masquerading as a college student?”

“I
am
a college student. People just always assume I’m younger – I look younger.”

“You certainly do. So I haven’t been robbing the cradle after all?”

“Were you feeling guilty about that?”

“Frankly, yes.”

“Well, you can rest at ease. There’s only a few years between us.”

Isabel leaned back in her chair twisting the napkin in her lap. Thirty-five? He was only five years younger than she was. Clearly not a boy. And his actions earlier this evening hadn’t been those of a boy. She thrilled again with the memory of his voice, commanding, in charge. The feel of his body as he pushed her against the counter in the kitchen. No, clearly all man.

“So what was the line about needing a Mrs. Robinson? That was just an easy way to get laid?”

“Not at all, that much is true. Look, I’ve not had great success with women. Because I look so much younger, and since I’m in college, I do date a lot of younger women. You would think I’d naturally have more confidence with them, but things never clicked. Never worked.”

“So you went to The Shore?”

“I heard it was a sure thing.”

“I was a sure thing?”

“The club was a sure thing.”

“You’ve been playing me for a fool since we met.” Her anger surged to the surface. She’d vowed no man would ever treat her like a fool again.

“That’s not the way it was, Isabel. You know it! It suited you, too. We were both playing a game.”

“But your goal was not a one-night stand, it was to find a Mrs. Robinson?”

“Yes. There was something missing, and I thought an older woman, or more precisely, a woman closer to my age, could help me find it.”

“And you hit the jackpot when you hooked up with a sex therapist?” She spat the words bitterly across the table, unable to contain them.

Tray reached across the table to take her hand, but she pulled away, placing her hand in her lap.

“I hit the jackpot, Isabel, because I met you.”

Isabel caught the waiter’s eye and motioned for the bill.

“I noticed you right away. I could see your sparkle from the other side of the room.”

“This conversation is finished, Tray. Let’s just pay and go.”

The waiter placed the bill on the table and Tray quickly placed his hand over it before Isabel could whisk it away.

“As soon as you hear what I have to say.”

She leaned back in her chair and eyed him warily, tapping her foot nervously against the table leg.

“You know it isn’t just sex between us. I know it, and you know it. And here’s what I’ve figured out. The reason I wasn’t successful with those other women, is because they didn’t have what we have. There was no chemistry.”

“Chemistry is-”

“Let me finish, Isabel. You’ve taken the lead through most of our relationship –”

“We don’t have a relationship.”

“Any two people involved in some interaction have a relationship, Dr. Chapel.”

She was furious, and she also knew he was right. They did have a relationship. As much as she wanted to fight it, she couldn’t deny there was something between them. Something that made each interaction exciting, exhilarating and yet, at the same time, as comfortable as an old slipper. It was a feeling she thought she could get used to. But she couldn’t stand that he had lied to her.