Page 3 of Unraveling an Enigma
I moved to the left-hand side of the bed and slipped under the black sheets. Isabelle remained at the end of the bed. Her breaths were coming out in ragged puffs, and her eyes were opened wide in shock. She seemed to be battling with herself as to whether she was going to do as I’d requested or flee toward the door.
I murmured, “Good choice,” when she slipped back into my bed.
“Goodnight, Isabelle,” I said, leaning over and switching off the bedroom lights.
“Goodnight, Isaac.”
The next morning, Catherine, my cleaner/ personal assistant/ grandma, arrived to wash and change the sheets on my bed. She was surprised when she noticed me still in my apartment at 9 AM. I typically leave before the sun rises, sticking her with the task of kicking my conquests out of my bed for me, but instead of having her wake Isabelle, I sent her to a local boutique to buy clothing for her.
The instant Catherine left, I went back to my room to gather Isabelle’s panties from my drawer. For one, they didn’t belong there as I had not yet slept with her, and two, I wanted to add them to a more personal collection.
Upon entering the room, the first thing I noticed was Isabelle’s scrumptious naked backside. She had somehow managed to wrangle one of her legs out of the bedding. My t-shirt had risen high enough to expose the two small dimples adorning her lower back. My jaw tightened and my fingers itched, fighting with the desire to lick, suck, and explore her smooth beige skin.
Despite my better judgment, I moved to the bed and ran my index finger up her arm. Every fine hair on her body bristled with attention. I glided my finger down her t-shirt covered shoulder blade and over her smooth back before stopping just above the bare skin of her enticing ass.
My cock throbbed. With the tilt of her knee, I would have only needed to adjust the position of her hips slightly to gain unbridled access to her intoxicatingly fragrant pussy that kept me awake half the night. The temptation was immense, and it took all my restraint to walk away from a barely covered Isabelle to have my second cold shower in less than twelve hours.
By the time I returned to my room for the second time, Isabelle was awake. Her pupils were the size of saucers, and her eyes tracked my every movement. In true Isabelle style, she mumbled under her breath. I tried to keep my eyes on her face but failed miserably when I saw the outline of her pert pink nipples through my thin white shirt. The night before, because of her heavy intoxication, Isabelle was off limits, but that morning was an entirely different story.
When Isabelle noticed me staring at her chest, she lifted the covers and squinted her eyes. I chuckled and mentioned something about it being a little too late for her to be shy before strolling to my walk-in wardrobe.
To say I was pleased by Isabelle’s reaction when I dropped my towel and commenced dressing would be an understatement. From the puzzled expression plastered on her face, I’d become concerned she was immune to my appeal, which usually makes the girls go weak at their knees, but her lack of composure as she openly gawked at my flaccid cock made me realize her interest in me was just as strong as my fascination with her.
It was Isabelle’s anxious eyes that halted my desire that morning. They exposed her inner turmoil. Not only did they beg for me to fuck her, they also pleaded for me to leave her alone, to remain untouched. So although Isabelle intrigued me, and I wanted to ignore rational thinking, I respected her decision and walked out of my apartment without touching one portion of her delectable skin. It was torturous.
For six weeks, I kept my mind focused on my empire. Only on the rare occasion did my mind drift to Isabelle. I even removed Hugo from his duties of shadowing her. So, you can imagine my astonishment when she arrived at the booth I was seated at while Cormack and I were waiting for our table to be prepared.
Cormack and I did the same thing every week. We had dinner at a restaurant that charged exorbitant prices for minuscule portions of food, drank expensive whiskey, and smoked even more costly cigars.
A broad smile etched on my face when Isabelle accepted my offer of a handshake. When I kissed her palm, she yanked her hand away, as if my lips scorched her skin.
Smirking at her reaction, I accepted the greeting of the lady Cormack was introducing as Harlow. I stared at Harlow a little dumbfounded, certain I’d seen her before. Usually, I have the uncanny ability to match names with faces, but Harlow had me stumped. I was fairly sure that I hadn’tliaisedwith her previously, but a woman’s face in ecstasy can look entirely different than her usual appearance, so I may have been mistaken.
I gasped a sigh of relief when Harlow explained she was from the bakery I’d left my card at for Isabelle. Harlow looked completely different out of her dowdy work uniform. That night she looked beautiful with her waves of auburn hair cascading down her fitted red dress.
“Please join us,” Cormack offered, motioning his hand to the booth. Harlow eagerly slid into the spare space next to Cormack, meaning Isabelle had no choice but to sit next to me.
The instant Isabelle slid into the booth, her intoxicating scent invaded my nasal cavities. I leaned toward her intimately, and without a snick of hesitation, took a sizeable whiff of her seductive smell. I’ve never smelled anything more delicious than Isabelle when she is aroused.
Isabelle tried to hide her smile, but the dimple on her right cheek gave away her deceit. I ran my index finger along her forearm, wanting to see if her hairs bristled to attention like they did when she was intoxicated. They did. When she noticed her body’s reaction to my touch, she huffed in annoyance and scooted toward the edge of the booth, trying to expand the distance between us. I chuckled at her reaction before sliding across the booth, leaving even less space between us than there was before. My intuition was screaming at me to run away from Isabelle, but it was my intrigue keeping my ass planted in that booth.
Isabelle’s stance firmed as she lifted her shoulders high. She tried to keep her focus on Cormack and Harlow talking across from us, but I caught the occasional glimpse of her turmoil when her eyes shifted sideways to glance at me. I found her hostility refreshing. For the past five years, I’d become accustomed to people doing as instructed. Isabelle was the only one who didn’t jump at my every command. She even fought against her own body’s desires.
My mood soured considerably fast when Isabelle probed me for further information on my fighting career in college. I’ve never talked about the event that led to the death of Ophelia, so that night wasn’t any different. My brooding composure lasted the entire meal.
To say I felt like a fucking asshole when I discovered it was Isabelle’s birthday would have been a major understatement, but when she kissed me, my shrewdness dissipated, and I once again became a mere man having my hand forced by a woman who intrigued me. I was furious Isabelle tried to coerce me into doing something against my wishes.
But even in my woeful mood, I couldn’t stop my quintessential need to taste Isabelle’s perfectly structured mouth when she kissed me for the second time that evening.
That kiss…. it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. It catapulted my obsession with Isabelle to a new level. From then on, every move I made was contrived strategically to get Isabelle into my bed. The cupcake orders, Isabelle’s apartment, and Cormack’s long weekend away, that was all me. It was all an elaborate ploy to make Isabelle mine.
Although I coerced Isabelle to spend time with me, never once did I force her to make a decision she didn’t want to make. I could see the apprehension in her beautiful eyes, so I waited for her to make the first move. After the Wave Runner ride, I knew without a doubt Isabelle desired me just as much as I craved her.
My stringent ruse in making Isabelle mine was working to perfection, until we ran into Col Petretti when we left my 57 Nightclub. The instant I jerked Isabelle to my side in a protective stance, Col knew she was more than the one night stands he had become accustomed to seeing me with the past several years.
Col justifiably blames me for Ophelia’s death. If it weren't for me, Ophelia would have never been in that car that night, but Isabelle was innocent, and she should have never been dragged into Col’s personal vendetta against me. The instant he threatened her, I knew I'd do anything in my power to make sure she was protected from him. Col is one of the most ruthless, cold-hearted men I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a lot of unscrupulous people the past few years.
I tried to push Isabelle away so I could keep her safe, but my desire to claim her as mine was too strong even for me to contain. It was like an out-of-control wildfire; there was no way to dampen that furious heat. All the apprehension clouding Isabelle’s beautiful eyes the past few months disappeared on the return flight to Ravenshoe after our weekend away. Her every desire, need, and want was reflected, and they were all pointing to me. One taste of Isabelle on the private jet was all it took for my desire to grow more rampant. It stoked the fire with more wood, increasing its insatiable appetite.
