Page 47 of Impenitent Claim

Infuriating ass!I stomped on the gas, hoping his foot caught under the tire. No such luck.

Chapter 20 – Isabella

The predominant scent in the room was lavender, but several other essential oils complemented the sweet bloom. From the candle burning on the side table to the bath oil, the purple flower was everywhere. I breathed in the serenity invoked by the destress routine. It might be the middle of the night, but after the chaos of the party, I couldn’t sleep. So I soaked until my skin pruned, and I avoided using my signature scent of green apples to keep from stimulating my senses.

Dropping my robe, I sat on the cushioned bench at the foot of my bed and cracked the cap open on the lotion bottle. Mind blissfully clear, I squirted the thick cream onto my hand. With long, sure strokes, I worked the rich moisture into my skin. Finally floating on a field of green and purple, the distraction lasted for a while. I could have curled under the covers and fallen asleep.

Until I brushed lotion down my chest.

The buzz was electric.

An unwanted, and completely unstoppable, heat spread through my veins, pulsing deep between my legs. And like clockwork, my body’s reaction summoned the dark visage.

Ah, crap.

It was too late. The thoughts I spent so long chasing away with every mind-clearing technique flooded back. Only this time, instead of tormenting myself with the severity of my actions, how much trouble I was in since this force of nature found me, my thoughts were solely focused on the past, on the first interactions with this fiend. Ones involving Chicago andhim. That tall, broad form, watching me from the shadows of the club.

The memory was so powerful, the rush of feeling so strong, I blinked, staring around the room to check for the phantasmal presence hiding in the dark.

There was no sign of him.

I viciously squirted more lotion into my hand and made short work of moisturizing the rest of my skin. The memory of his body against mine, the way he pounded between my thighs….

A filthy curse left my mouth with a groan.

Shooting to my feet, I entered the bathroom to cleanse my hands before I applied the infused oil to my cuticles and palms. But as I dried them on the cloth, I had to admit sleep wasn’t going to find me.

Returning to my bedroom, I pulled a different kind of oil from my self-care kit. The smooth silicone egg was in a hidden compartment. The rush of heat came from deep inside, a conditioned response to this sleek, hot pink device.

I leaned back against the bench, opening my mind to the memories that refused to be silent. The way he watched me from across the club, sensing my determination even in the sea of people. Last November, I would have said I was the one stalking him—seeking him out and taking what I wanted.

Clearly, I’d ignited an obsession.

But what did that make me? Delusional? Mad?Bat crap crazy?

This need burning through my core and tightening my breasts was undeniable—and oh, so forbidden. I couldn’t have him, and he shouldn’t be here, pursuing me.

But in the dark, a girl could dream.

My touch grazed over my chest. I caught a hardened nipple, rolling the hard nub between my fingers. A hiss escaped my lips.

Damn, that’s sensitive.

It didn’t feel as good as when he’d touched me. As my touch slid to the other side, I arched in frustration. Those large hands could cover my entire breast. Knead the flesh. Squeeze until I moaned.

I tried, but my fingers didn’t have the reach to cover.

Funny how his hands, so capable of easy destruction, were exactly the thing I was craving. They were dangerous, and yet I wanted them all over me more than I wanted to breathe.

My touch slipped down my stomach. I pushed my hips up, meeting my fingers as they slid between my legs. If I thought my breasts were sensitive, I wasn’t prepared for the reaction of my body to my slipping my fingers against my sex. The rush of pleasure was euphoric. A warm, slick wetness waited for me there. I didn’t need the oil tonight.

I tried to trick myself into believing my hands were rough and my touch was heavy.

But a little sob of disappointment choked in my chest.

While I could remember every detail of that night, my body couldn’t reconcile this feeling with the memory of him.

“You’ve ruined me,” I seethed, voice barely a whisper.

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