Page 68 of Not the Plan

He pulled back to meet her gaze, sliding his hand down her side to grasp her hip. Her eyes widened.

“Tomorrow?” he breathed.

“Yes.”

“Seven? You promise?”

His heart was in his throat as she cradled his cheeks. “I promise,” she said, yanking his lips back to hers. He surrendered himself to being consumed, groaning when she tugged at his belt with both hands.

He pulled away, bracing his palms against the wall on either side of her head. Placing his cheek against hers, he panted into her ear.

“There’s something I need from you, Isadora. Something I’ve been dying for.” Her chest heaved, and she searched his eyes, her perfect brows asking her question.

“I need to taste you,” he said. Her eyes went wide, and he dropped to one knee, gliding his hands down the sides of her thighs to the hem of her skirt.

“Please?” he whispered, his gaze still locked on hers.

His hands below the hem, he began to push back up, inching her skirt up along with them.

“We should stop,” she whispered, her breasts rising and falling.

“We should,” he sighed back, still pushing up.

“Anyone could catch us.”

“Anyone could,” he whispered, nodding. “But…”

“But?”

He shoved, forcing her skirt up over her hips, pressing his face hard against the ecru lace of her thong. His eyes fluttered closed as he inhaled deep.

“You smell too good for me to care,” he groaned. He looked up at her again. “Please.”

Begging for her permission was much more of a turn-on than he’d ever imagined.

She ran a hand through his hair, panting.

“Yes, Karim,” she groaned. “God, yes.” Those four words made him feel safer than he had in years.

Growling, he moved lower to drag his tongue along her lips, from bottom to top over her panties. Her hand shot up to her mouth as she watched. He did it again and she whimpered, her hips bucking forward to follow his tongue. A hand between her thighs, he tapped them apart to hook a finger into her panties. Then there was a new sound. Someone was coming down the stairs.

He froze and registered the panic in her eyes. She ripped her skirt down as he scrambled for his files. Then she grabbed his hand and pulled him farther still, through a large, darkened space, then back up another hallway as a familiar voice reached his ears.

“Here we are, Daria,” Julian said. “Just you and me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Isadora

Isadora snapped her shaking finger from Karim’s doorbell less than an inch away from making contact. She’d been having trouble with buttons and keys over the past thirty-two hours. First, there were all the times she’d picked up her phone, pressed the button to call him, then pressed the button to end the call before it went through. She searched for excuses, reasons not to go, in spite of how much she wanted him, of how much she needed togo.

They’re exactly that, excuses. Stop trying to make something up, some lie that isn’t supposed to hurt him but will because you’re scared…. But this is dangerous; letting myself follow my feelings about him is dangerous. This step could lead to something, anything, and that could get in the way of…She’d pick up her phone, resolute, only to put it down again.

She’d had trouble with the buttons on her favorite jeans, the ones that hugged her curves just right. After missing one button and then bending a nail back as she tried to button up again, she’d gotten mad and ditched them for her second-favorite pair. She’d misplaced her keys and dumped out the contents of her purse in a minor explosion of anxiety that she was going to be late and make him believe that his fears were well founded. Then she’d dropped the damn things while locking her door, and again beside her car.

And now, standing on his doormat, she couldn’t press the button, to ring the damn bell.

What are you so afraid of? He didn’t plan for this, and you didn’t either. No one is going into anything with big expectations. There’s work, but that’s dumb too. Are you gonna let Julian’s jealousy of Daniel keep you from getting some smoking-hot sex from a smoking-hot guy? Julian’s childish games are gonna keep you from getting laid?

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