Page 39 of Midnight Secrets

She’d been beautiful back then, too, she’d still knocked him on his ass but this Isabel? She rocked his world. Last night had been a different kind of sex than he was used to. Sex had always been great. He’d started young and he’d bedded a lot of women and he’d never turned anyone down. But sex sure hadn’t been world altering. He’d set himself on a course when he’d enrolled in the navy and he hadn’t deviated one step. He hadn’t been tempted by any woman to change the trajectory of his life.

One night with Isabel and he’d throw everything overboard to be with her.

Man was he lucky that he didn’t have to do that. He wasn’t going to have to sacrifice anything. She already lived close by and was fine with his job and—God! It felt like he’d rolled heavenly dice and thrown a midnight.

Joe had always relied on his instincts. In the Teams, he’d studied damned hard, he’d played everything by the book but on the streets and in the field, he trusted his instincts. Right now, it felt like something huge had come into his life. If some blood had been left in his head last night instead of pooling in his dick, he’d have recognized it. He recognized it now.

Homecoming, for a man who’d never had a home.

He watched her moving around in her kitchen. She knew it the way he knew his kit. Perfectly. Everything positioned just so. Well-organized and in perfect condition, ready for use.

Of course his kit was for whacking his country’s enemies and hers was to stun people’s taste buds, but still.

Imagine having this every day.

Imagine her in his house, every single fucking day. In his bed, every night. This beautiful creature, all grace and light, his.

He was getting ahead of himself.Down boy.

She was beautiful and smart and classy. And she was a Delvaux. No getting around that. No way would Joe ever be in a position to replicate for her what her family had given her. He loved his teammates, his bosses, his job. Or he would when he could finally do it.

But he couldn’t pretend for a second that they were this country’s elite. They were solid guys, none better. Men he’d trust with his life. But they’d never be bestselling authors or Supreme Court Justices or presidential candidates.

So what?—

Joe stopped thinking when Isabel slid a plate in front of him. Pointless thinking, really, when everything looked and smelled so amazing.

He glanced up at a smiling Isabel. “Waffles? Really? You made me waffles?”

“With baked raspberry jam. One of my specialties. And I make my waffles really light. Try them.”

He cut into the stack of waffles, slightly crusty on the outside, soft on the inside and oh God, thesmell.If there were awards for food smells, she’d nail it.

He kept himself from moaning by sheer grit because it wasn’t like any waffle he’d ever eaten. Light as air, with the tangy taste of that incredible raspberry jam…did she say she’d baked the jam?

Never mind. He didn’t want to analyze the magic. He finished in record time.

“That was fast,” Isabel observed. She was barefoot, in pale blue sweats that reflected her eyes, dark honey hair a little messy, no makeup. She looked more delicious than the waffles. His heart kicked once beneath his ribs, hard. “Do you want any more?”

God yes.

“Come here.” His voice sounded thick and strange even to his own ears.

She was carrying her own plate to the table when she stopped at the odd note in his voice. Then she looked him in the face, glanced down at his lap, looked up again and blushed. What he wanted was clear on his face, not to mention the huge boner nicely outlined by his thin sweats.

She walked slowly over to him. No hesitation whatsoever. If she’d hesitated, if he felt he was forcing her in any way, he’d stop.

He hoped.

She stood by his side, legs brushing his where he sat.

Sometimes Joe initiated sex like he went into battle. Deliberately, planning every move beforehand. Mapping out which items of clothing had to go first, deciding where to touch the woman and when.

Not now, oh fuck no.

Now he felt out of control, an unusual feeling and one he’d reject in any other context. Control was gone. Right now, all he wanted was to be inside Isabel, to feel her naked body against his. There was no planning, no mapping of his actions, he acted out of pure instinct and he moved as fast as he could.

First her. “These have to go,” he whispered, clutching the hem of the sweatshirt. “Up with your hands.” She stuck her hands up in the air as if he was a bank robber. He pulled the sweatshirt up and threw it off, so quickly her hair crackled with static electricity. No bra. Fantastic. His hands were shaking so he didn’t know if he could deal with little hooks and things.

---