Somehow she doubted the questions were about the weather. Or if she had any plans to do some redecorating to her home. They would be questions that wouldn’t be comfortable to answer, but necessary to ask.
“Sure. Can you ask and unpack at the same time?” Perhaps if her hands were busy she wouldn’t think too much about what was being asked.
The corner of his mouth lifted, and she found thateven sexier than a full, wide lipped smile. “I think I can manage that.”
“Then let’s do this.” Marie reached for the scissors she’d been using to cut through the tape. She had the box open in seconds and went to hand it to Isaac, but saw that he was using a knife that wasn’t a pocket one, but also not a kitchen sized one.
Where had he been keeping that?
“In my pocket.” Isaac twisted his hand, and a second later the blade disappeared into the casing.
“Huh?”
“You asked where I kept my knife.”
Mortification swept through her, and her cheeks heated. “I asked that out loud? I didn’t think it?”
Isaac chuckled. “You sure did.”
“Well that’s not embarrassing, is it,” she said wryly, only to start laughing a second later.
Marie stood still as Isaac crossed the room to stand in front of her. One hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing across her flesh. “Don’t be embarrassed, I thought it was cute.”
“Cute? I’m not sure if that’s not a worse thing,” she murmured, unable to tear her gaze away from his.
The air around her electrified, and she shuffled a little so that the tips of her shoes pressed up against his.
Ever since she’d brushed her lips across his in San Carlion, she’d wondered what it would be like to haveit last longer than the second it did. She knew what it was like to be held in a comforting embrace from him. What would it be like to be held passionately, as though if he let go he would cease to be.
Her thoughts were exaggerated and over the top, but she couldn’t stop them. “Kiss me,” she whispered, shocked at her forwardness.
His nostrils flared at her request and his other hand squeezed her waist. His brown eyes darkened until they were almost black. “Are you sure?”
“More than su—” Her words were cut off as Isaac’s mouth landed on hers.
Fire burned through her from his touch. She wrapped her arms around him, her fingers caressing the back of his neck. This was what she’d wanted to do all those months ago but had been too afraid to.
His tongue teased her bottom lip, and she opened for him. Their tongues dueled, and she pressed herself even closer. She couldn’t get enough of him, no matter how close she was, it didn’t seem close enough.
Vaguely she was aware that she was moving backward. Was he taking her to her bedroom? She would be more than happy with that turn of events. It wasn’t as though they were teenagers making out for the first time. She was a thirty-seven-year-old divorced woman. She had no idea how old Isaac was, but she suspected he was in his forties.
They both knew what they were doing.
The edge of the couch hitting the back of her legs registered, and soon she found herself splayed on her back, sinking into the soft cushions. Isaac’s hard body was on top of her, and she moaned as his lips trailed across her jawline before he nibbled her earlobe. A shiver of desire rippled through her, and she gripped the back of his shirt, attempting to tug it from the waistband of his trousers. She’d just succeeded when Isaac stilled above her.
Had she moved too fast? Did he not want her to touch him?
It was then that the trill of a cellphone penetrated her desire fogged brain. Isaac moved away as he pulled the phone from his pocket.
“Warner,” he snapped out.
Marie sat up, tugging down her dress which had ridden halfway up her thighs. Isaac had moved to the kitchen, and even though her apartment was open plan, she couldn’t hear what was being said. Isaac had his back to her, and his voice was pitched low that all she heard was a slight murmur whenever he spoke.
Was the call about her attack? Had someone found something? He hadn’t even asked her any questions. They’d gone from opening boxes to kissing as if they were the only people alive.
“Okay, thanks.” She only heard that because Isaachad walked back into her living room. He pocketed the phone and she met his gaze. There was nothing on his face to give her any indication of what the conversation had been about. She wouldn’t like to play poker with him, because she wouldn’t be able to tell if he had a good hand or a bad hand. That’s how expressionless his was.
Feeling at a disadvantage sitting on her couch while he stood over her, she got up and walked over to the box she’d opened before their kiss. “Can you tell me about that call?” she asked, hating that she almost sounded like she was pleading for him to give her a breadcrumb of acknowledgement.
