Page 28 of The Widower
And the more I sank into that kiss, the more I lost myself in her.
Her tongue met mine in a pace that stole my breath, and every time she pulled away for even a second, I pulled her back, unable to stand the space between us. Our breaths tangled, and every brush of our lips felt like a silent confession—a surrender to everything we’d tried so hard to deny.
At some point, we were pressed together—chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.
The kiss wasn’t impulse anymore. It was need.
I felt her melt against me, and something inside me cracked wide open. Because in that moment, I realized it wasn’t just desire. It was something I’d been trying to silence for far too long—and now, I couldn’t anymore.
I pulled my mouth from hers just enough to breathe, but not enough to let her go.
Resting my forehead against hers, I whispered hoarsely, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
“I should stop… but I can’t.”
She opened her eyes slowly, and the look I found in them sealed my fate.
There was no going back.
“Isabelle, is that you?” a woman’s voice called out nearby.
We froze, breaking the kiss just as the porch light flicked on. Isabelle startled, bending down to grab her dress, struggling to slip it back on.
“It’s me, Mom. I’m coming in.” She turned the doorknob quickly—the key was still in the lock.
“Isabelle…”
“Just go. This was wrong and… goodbye.”
I stood there, staring at nothing as she disappeared inside.
What the hell just happened?
What the hell!
I shouldn’t have done that—kissing her right there on her doorstep. It was wrong.
“You’re an animal, Colin. A damn idiot who can’t even control himself!” I shouted into the empty room.
I hadn’t kissed anyone since Jennifer died—and I didn’t want to. Still don’t.
So why the hell did she shake me like that? Why now, of all times, did I lose control with her?
She irritates me, pushes my buttons, curses me in her head (yeah, I noticed that back at the mansion), and yet somehow I still care what I do around her.
I can’t even blame the alcohol—I only had two glasses of champagne. Isabelle was the one who did the opposite, who made sure to provoke me.
Now I have no idea what the hell is going to happen between us.
ISABELLE CAMPBELL
The ceiling in my room is beautiful...
I’ve had plenty of time to admire it—about thirty minutes now—just lying here, staring up, trying to figure out what the hell I did after getting out of Colin’s car.
I’m such an idiot. What kind of woman does something like that? I don’t even know if anyone was out on the street who might’ve seen me half-naked…
“Isabelle, you’re such a mess!” I yelled into my pillow, pressing it against my mouth to muffle the sound.
