Page 50 of His Relentless Angel

Isaiah answers for me with a low but curt voice, “She’s almost twenty-two.”

Troy purses his lips. “And you’re pushing forty. This”—he waves a hand between us—“is beyond inappropriate, and it isn’t like you.”

Khady smooths her hand up and down Troy’s bicep and says something quietly in Wolof, which he learned when they started dating, speaking his wedding vows fluently in her native language. He says something back to her, his voice clipped, and it’s more than clear he doesn’t approve of our relationship.

Mr. Owens attempts to interject, but Troy turns apprehensive eyes on Isaiah. “What are you doing with her?”

“Our age difference—it doesn’t matter. We’re both adults,” I tell Troy, hoping to temper his disapproval, knowing Isaiah is going to take his brother’s reaction hard.

He swings his gaze to me and shakes his head. “Barely. You are barely an adult, Bailey, and frankly, he deserves better after everything you did to him when you were just a kid. It’s—” He pinches his lips together, but I get his meaning well enough. Disgusting. Wrong. My already queasy stomach drops. Looking Isaiah directly in the eye, Troy says, “This isn’t going to end well, and you know it. She’s going to go psycho when you break it off—as you should—and who knows how far she’ll go this time.”

I want to tell him that I wouldn’t go psycho if that were to happen because it would simply kill me before I could do anything.

Khady may have embraced me, but she’s of the same mind as her husband, since she nods and eyes Isaiah coolly. Isaiah allows Troy to finish speaking his piece without interruption since he respects his older brother’s opinion over most people. Khady slips her hand in Troy’s and leads him around us toward the kitchen when he’s done, neither of them looking at us again.

Fear takes root inside me, and I can scarcely bring my eyes up to meet Isaiah’s, wondering how his brother’s censure will affect him. I’m steady in the fact that Isaiah loves me, but I’m worried that, after today, he’ll always have his brother’s warning playing in the back of his mind.

“Isaiah?” It’s just a whisper of a sound after a long pause. He tightens his arm around my shoulder.

Mr. Owens, who stood silently throughout the exchange with his brows drawn behind his silver wire-frame bifocals, clears his throat. “He means well.”

“I know,” Isaiah says, swallowing hard.

“But Troy…he doesn’t speak for all of us. I could see the difference in you the moment you walked in. This is the real deal—the two of you—isn’t it?” Isaiah nods, and Mr. Owens pats the top of his shoulder. “That’s what I thought. I’ll give you a moment.” He gives me a small smile and walks away with his hands pushed in his pockets.

Isaiah drops his arm around my waist and guides me down a hallway to the far left. In the marble hall bathroom, Isaiah closes the door quietly and turns me to press my back to it.

Before I can speak, Isaiah bends to look me in the eye. “I know what you’re thinking, baby, but nothing anyone could say will ever make me change how I feel about you. Never.”

“But he’s your brother,” I say with grief in my voice. “I’d understand if—”

“He may be my brother, but you are the love of my life, Bailey,” he says firmly. “You will always come first.” He tries to press a kiss to my lips, but I stop him since I haven’t brushed my teeth. He switches to kissing down my neck as he hikes the bottom of my dress all the way up around my waist, encouraging me to hold onto his shoulders after he unzips his pants and lifts me with his hands under my ass.

“What are you doing?” I ask with a whisper, even as I wrap my legs around him and reach between us to pull the gusset of my panties aside.

“I know your mind is still spinning. You need me.”

I nod, my heart swelling with so much love for him that it’s bound to burst.

Isaiah buries his face in my neck at the same time as he grinds his cock against my pussy until he’s hard, then works his length to the root inside me, though it’s not so easy since I’m dry. That quickly changes when Isaiah carries me to the opposite cool gray wall to press my back against it so we don’t rattle the door during our quiet lovemaking, our lips pressed to each other’s skin to muffle our moans. This isn’t so much about pleasure as it is about reassuring each other of our mutual commitment and devotion.

At least…that’s what I think until he mumbles, “I’m already close, baby, but I need it harder to cum.” I nod, squeezing my inner muscles around his shaft. “Need you to keep quiet.” I nod again, but his first hard thrust makes me gasp. “Fuck, I wish I could listen to you scream my name, but not here.”

Isaiah holds my weight with one arm and presses his palm to my mouth with his other hand. That just makes my pussy squeeze harder, and I try to roll my hips. He drops his forehead to mine, his eyes flashing with hunger.

“Play with your clit, angel,” he growls low. “Make me cum with your little pregnant pussy.”

I gasp behind his palm, massaging my clit roughly as he pounds into me, though not all the way so that our skin doesn’t clap together and echo in the large bathroom. As soon as my pussy pulses around him with my orgasm, he empties himself inside me with a barely contained roar.

He’s right. I did need this.

After letting me slip to my feet, both of us breathing hard and reassured, Isaiah asks me to continue holding my dress up. He crouches, part my thighs, and watches as his cum slowly starts to drip out of me. “Fuck me, I already want a second round,” he says, nipping the top of my thigh with his teeth.

“No time,” I say with a pout. “Or they’re going to figure out what we’re doing if they didn’t already hear us.”

He sighs and slowly rises, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Tonight,” he says. It’s just one word, but it’s a promise for what’s to come, and now I’m ready for a second round, too.

After quickly cleaning up, I immediately go to the island to grab a dish to take outside to the backyard patio along with Brianna, who gives me a wry smile. Isaiah’s parents are already seated next to each other at the wrought iron and glass patio table, the two outdoor ceiling fans attached to the underside of the wooden pergola spinning at top speed to keep the heat at bay.

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