Page 121 of One for the Road
I dropped my head against the wood, wishing I could turn back time to before I knew what it was to be close to him. To feel cherished by him.
Before I knew what he looked like naked.
“Just now, when you called this fake.” He nuzzled at my throat, teeth scraping skin. “When I can’t stomach the thought of being with anyone else.”
That’s how he felt now. One day he’d meet someone new. Someone who didn’t come with a truck load of baggage. Probably a doctor who ran half marathons for fun and loved wheatgrass as much as he did.
The image of a willowy, briefcase-carrying brunette seared through me like a white-hot poker.
“You don’t have to tell me the truth now.” Alistair’s chin brushed my hair. Fingers squeezing my hip. “Just . . . let me make it up to you, honey. It can’t end like this.”
Because the second I walked out that door, it was over.
“No.” I whimpered. I wasn’t ready for it to be over.
Alistair misunderstood, fingers gently releasing me. “Right. You should probably—”
“No,” I repeated. Harder this time.
I couldn’t even recall turning to face him, but I clutched his wet shoulders and pushed onto my toes, lips crashing against his.
We both burst into flames.
The first press was bruising. Frenzied. Like we’d mutually agreed to this terrible decision but were determined to languish in every moment of this inferno before it turned us both to ash.
He curled a hand around my neck, pulling me onto my toes into the kiss. Groaning into my mouth. All I could do was cling on, my hands finding no purchase as they slid over his slick skin. I ran them down his sides, finally resting on the notch of his hipbones.
A tug at the back of my neck had me moving, following. We tripped our way to his sofa. Our feet and legs tangled as he half fell and dragged me over his lap so I straddled him, my dress bunching around my hips.
I barely had time to catch up. I didn’t want to. It was like a switch had been flipped, taking me from furious to turned on in a nanosecond.
A voice in the back of my head screamed at me to hit the brakes. Put a stop to the madness. It would hurt all the more later. But my nervous system was overrun by sensation; the slide of his calloused fingertips up my thighs, grabbing my hips to tug me closer.
God, he was already hard. Still hard? Pressing through his low-slung towel.
“Isla.” His teeth were at my neck. Scraping over my pulse.
Whimpering, my head fell back into his waiting palm. I was losing my mind. Had already lost it. Because I’d never heard my name spoken that way. Like a prayer at an altar.
My fingers had taken on a mind of their own, chasing beads of water across his chest. His skin was soft. Silk against my fingertips.
I told him so and he let out a guttural groan and returned to my mouth, kissing me over and over again. His hand roved higher, over the back of my dress. He cursed when he felt the clasp beneath the fabric.
“This is the day you decide to wear a bra?”
“I wore it for you.” My mind was addled, my tongue too loose.
He grunted, “You are so fucking sexy,” then kissed my jaw. The scrape of his stubble made me shiver. “From the moment I first saw you, I’ve been desperate to get beneath these little dresses.”
I tucked my knee tighter at his hip, rocking until we both groaned. “Isla.” He fisted the material. “Did you wear this for me, too?”
I nodded, my lips wet against his. “I wanted to look pretty for you.”
“Fuck.” He kissed me again quickly. “I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.” The words were so contrite. So earnest. That reason alone was why when he said, “Let me take this off,” I nodded. No room for insecurity beneath his heady stare.
His chest pressed against mine as he tugged the dress down in one smooth swoop, leaving damp patches on the bodice that now hung around my waist.
His lips trailed from my cheek, down my neck to my shoulder. He tugged at the bra strap with his teeth. “These fucking little straps. Did you plan on teasing me tonight, honey?”
