Page 50 of Isla

Ipull my sweatshirt up to cover the ridiculous grin I can't seem to wipe off my face. As I watch Henry feed sticks into the fire, his words bounce around in my head.Love me. God. If only he knew that I'm tumbling head over heels for him. It feels like I jumped out of an airplane without a parachute. Henry looks up at me, flames reflecting in his eyes, the fire casting a red glow over his skin, highlighting the veins riding over his hands and up his arms. I suck in a shaky breath, my heart pounding in my ears.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he says finally, his gaze sweeping over my body.

I swallow hard, scared of admitting how badly I want this. How badly I want him. "I'm thinking that you look like Lucifer come to lure me away using one of the seven deadly sins as bait," I rasp.

The corner of his mouth kicks up, and he licks his lips, his gaze dipping to my mouth. "And what deadly sin would that be, Isla?" His voice is like velvet sliding over my body and between my legs.

"I think you know."

He walks closer, towering over me, nudging my chin with his finger until I'm looking up at him, fire and ice warring against each other. "Tell me, Isla."

"Lust," I answer, my voice cracking. With him this close, all I can think about is pulling down his pants and burying his cock in my throat. I clench my hands at my sides, digging my nails into my palm, resisting.

"Good girl," he murmurs. Those two words hang heavy between us until my stomach growls, ruining the moment. "We better get you fed before we continue this conversation," Henry laughs, kissing my cheek before heading back to the car and returning with the cooler. He pulls out container after container of ingredients, everything chopped, sliced, and ready to cook.

"I'm impressed," I admit as he lays a grate over the fire.

He chuckles. "Why is that?"

I shrug, not sure if I want to put it into words. "You went through a lot of effort is all."

"You're worth the effort, Isla. You shouldn't be impressed by the bare minimum. It makes me want to find every other guy you've dated and wring their fucking necks."

"I'll make you a list when we get back," I laugh, the possessiveness of his words doing unmentionable things between my legs. "What can I help with?" I ask as he places three cast iron pans on the grate.

"You can pour us both a glass of wine and then talk to me while I cook for you."

I pour two glasses as he tosses chunks of butter into the pans, pulling my chair closer to where he's working. "What do you want to talk about?" I ask, savoring the first sip of wine.

"I want you to tell me how you really feel about being in a nontraditional relationship," he says, dumping a bowl of fingerling potatoes into one of the skillets. "I worry we're being selfish by dragging you into this."

"Nobody drags me anywhere I don't want to go."

He looks at me, a grin pulling at his lips. "Good. Now that we have that covered, I want you to tell me one of your fantasies."

"You first," I insist, my self-preservation instincts kicking in.

He cocks an eyebrow as he dumps a container of green beans into the second pan. "The number one thing I jerk off to is imagining yourface when I sink my cock into your pussy for the first time," he says, his eyes meeting mine.

Fucking hell. Desire slides through my body, igniting my nerve endings, leaving insatiable need in its wake. I squeeze my thighs together, wondering how much of this I can take before I cave and make the first move.

"Your turn," he says, carefully placing two filets in a screaming hot pan.

I don't have to take time to think about it. I know exactly what I want. "I want to be worshipped, ravished, fucked, and filled until it's the only thing I can think about. I want to be so immersed in it that everything else disappears. I've never had that before, and I crave it so badly. I need a true release."

"Jesus." He clears his throat, his cheeks scarlet, eyes dark in the waning light. "It's like you were made for us," he whispers. "We will gladly make that come true for you, Isla. And I'll go so far as to say it will happeneverytime." He picks up my hand from my knee and kisses my knuckles before pulling the food off the fire and plating it. He moves our chairs so our backs are to the fire and motions for me to sit.

"Why are we facing away from the fire?" I ask, taking a plate from him.

"Because the show is about to start," he says, winking.

"The show?" I ask, confused.

"You'll see. Eat before it gets cold."

I cut a bite of steak, trying to ignore how closely he's watching me. The flavors burst over my tongue, and I can't help the moan that slips from my lips. "I didn't realize you could cook like this. It's amazing. Why didn't you guys open a restaurant?"

"None of us are classically trained."

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