Chapter 21
IZZY
Without another word spoken, Greg takes my hand in his, the stairs lighting our way to the bedroom. Between the tumult of emotion triggered by my earlier outburst and the fervency in his dark gaze, I almost dare not look at him. But my resolve doesn’t last long, not as we reach the top of the stairs and the natural magnetic pull brings our bodies together, the fine hairs on the back of my neck standing like pins.
‘Any man would be lucky to have you,’ he whispers in the dark as he reaches for me, pulling my hips into his.Hard where I am soft.‘But I can’t keep you.’ His fingers reach to twirl a lock of my hair, his words stark and bare in the darkness.
‘We could—’
‘Shush.’ His finger covers my lips oh, so gently. ‘Darlin’, I’ve been here before. I can’t do it again.’ He presses his mouth to my head almost as though it’s not already dark, but I don’t need to see his expression to understand this hurt.Because I hurt, too.‘It’s thawing outside,’ he whispers. ‘The snow will be gone tomorrow. Tonight, just let me love you.’ And with that, he covers his mouth with mine.
We kiss, and we kiss.Oh, how we kiss. Soft lips and swirling tongue, hands holding onto the other as though we might disappear. His hands curl around my shoulders, backing me farther into the room. The curtains are open and the night sky clear, the brightness of an almost full moon illuminating the space with a glow that’s almost ethereal.
‘Isobel.’ My name is a plea on his lips—a benediction—as our kisses deepen become nipping teeth and sliding hands. Greg trails his mouth across my neck, licking and sucking, each press a deeper caress than the one before. ‘You’re so fucking perfect.’
I can’t answer, tears stinging my eyes as I try to so hard to keep a hold of my emotions, to compose myself. Trying to stop my body from trembling. But that would be like asking the sun not to rise.Or for Greg to keep me. To make me his.
The hot press of his lips makes my skin fevered and my mind delirious, his skimming hands avoiding those places I need him most. His fingers trail my arms, play across my ribs, ghosting my breasts as my nipples ache for his touch.
My fingers are uncooperative, my hands shaking with desperation as I attempt to loosen the buttons of his shirt without much success.
‘Here.’ Greg places his hands over mine, sliding them away before he loosens one, two, then a third button, the cotton rustling as he pulls it up and over his head. My hand finds his solid chest, his skin so warm; the beat of his heart solid beneath my fingertips.
As though anticipating my brimming tears, Greg slips his hand into the waistband of my jeans and yanks me closer to him. It’s an aggressive move, one I feel viscerally, everything inside me drawing tight at the motion—at the determined set of his jaw and the way his dark liquid gaze bores down on me. Without another word spoken between us, he flips open the button at my waistband and pulls the denim over my hips. His rough touch belies his desire, the jagged motion just what I need to be pulled from my head. As the material moves with a stiff kind of reluctance, Greg’s impatience is clear. He wins out in the end, travelling with them until he’s in front of me on his knees, and I’m left just in my underwear.
His skin is hot as he bands his arms around my thighs, his face pressing into the lace of my knickers as he inhales a deep, hot breath. My whole body trembles at the contact, but I don’t have time to react as he pushes me down onto the bed behind me. I bounce a little against the soft mattress, my knees wide, my legs hanging over the edge. My ragged moan hits the air as he tongues a path between the inside of my knee and my underwear.
‘You’re not wearing matching underwear today.’ His voice is rough and rasping as he stretches, taking my breasts full in his big hands. He teases the material of my knickers with his teeth before he begins his tongue over my slit as I exhale a soft curse. ‘That wasn’t an answer,’ he says, his dark tone heavy with tease.
‘Tongue ... pussy,’ I pant out, not able to form full sentences.
‘You like that, do you?’
‘Yes!So much.’
His hands move along with his lustful laughter, his fingers toying with my tightening nipples as he teases the hard peaks. ‘Though I kind of like this look. The angel and the sinner suits you.’
This time, I don’t speak. In fact, I can barely process the possibility that my white bra represents the angel in me and my knickers, my sinning side?
‘Oh!’ Molten hot liquid fills my veins as the lacy edge of my bra drags across my hardened nipples, moving further still as he pulls the material under my breasts before framing the soft mounds with his large hands.
‘I’m so fucking hard I can barely think,’ he rasps, squeezing my flesh as he buries himself deeper between my legs. ‘I can smell you. Smell your sweet cunt.’
It’s too much yet not enough. His dirty whisperings, his touch causing my body to jerk against the bed as though struck by lightning. My knees widen, and my cries are hoarse as he reaches down, curling his fingers into the strip of fabric between my legs.
‘Open your legs wider, darlin’.’ He blows a hot breath against my over-sensitised centre. ‘Show me what you’re offering.’
And I do as I open myself to him, bringing my heels to the edge of the mattress, fully exposing myself to him.
‘Please touch me,’ I beg. ‘I need to feel you.’
Without answering, Greg begins to pull the scrap of black fabric down my legs.
‘You’re so wet. So wet for me.’
The cool air in the room caresses my clit as Greg slides his fingers into me, parting my flesh.
‘Look at you.’ His words ache with wonderment. ‘Just look at your sweet pussy, all delicious and shiny. Are you ready for me, darlin’? I just bet you are.’
