Page 90 of Isla

"They would have told you if that's how they felt, Isla. If they said it's your choice, that's exactly what they mean." He sucks my clit into his mouth as if to make a point.

"Okay," I breathe, riding his face, desperate to come. Theo lifts me from his mouth, scrambling out from underneath me, and then stands, picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder. I squeal, struggling against his tight hold as he walks toward his room. Kicking the door closed, he tosses me onto the bed. Before I can blink, he's hovering over me, one hand pinning my wrists over my head, the other pulling at my nipple as he slams into me. Fuck. Pleasure blinds me, every thrust pushing me higher and higher. I scream as I spasm around his cock, my hips meeting every punishing thrust.

"That's it," he rasps, pressing his lips against mine, deepening the kiss, his hips stuttering as he finds release. I break away from his hold, latching onto his ass, pulling him closer, riding him, wringing every drop of pleasure from both of our bodies.

"Fuck, Isla," he pants, his cock still hard inside me, hips jerking with aftershocks.

I moan as my body goes limp, every muscle trembling, pleasure short-circuiting my nerve endings. "I don't think I can move," I half groan, half laugh, kissing his chin.

"Stay here; I'll be right back." He kisses the tip of my nose and disappears into his bathroom, coming out a minute later with a warm washcloth. He carefully cleans me up, kissing every bit of skin, leaving his mark on me. I love the possessiveness of it–it speaks to something dark and primal inside me. Something that has nothing to do with my independent side and everything to do with the part of me that wants to give up control and be at his mercy.

"Where do you want to sleep tonight?" he murmurs, crawling into the bed with me and pulling me against his chest, his hand splayed over my stomach. I try to answer, but sleep is already claiming me, pulling me down into the darkness.

42

"Morning, sleepyhead." Dylan greets me in the soft light of the kitchen, kissing my temple as he hands me a steaming cup of coffee.

"Morning," I murmur, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I look at him over the rim of my mug as I blow on the coffee, my gaze drawn to the sweatpants slung low on his hips, the lithe muscles of his abdomen disappearing beneath his waistband. I really,reallywant to find out what's underneath.

"Are you up for a date tonight?" Dylan asks, pulling two bagels from the toaster oven and slathering them with a thick layer of cream cheese. I inhale the yeasty, sweet scent of freshly cooked bagels like a lion scenting its next meal.

"Hungry?" The corner of his mouth lifts, his eyes sparkling as he hands me a plate. I plop down at the table, most definitely looking like Gollum when he finds the ring. I take a gigantic bite, my eyes rolling back as an ungodly moan exits my mouth.

"Please don't ever leave me," I beg around another mouthful. I need his bagels every morning for the rest of my life.

"About that date...I wasn't sure if you'd be too tired after yesterday,"Dylan says, reaching over to wipe a glob of cream cheese from my lip.

"What did you have in mind?"

"There's a carnival in Stromness that I thought might be fun. We could go early in the evening so we don't get home too late."

"I'd like that." I lean over and kiss him on the cheek, thankful to have this quiet morning alone with him. "What are your plans for the day?"

"I'm about to head over to the castle with the rest of the bagels. We have a meeting with Charlie in about an hour to review some of the smaller details of the build. What about you?" he asks, sipping his coffee.

"I think I may come over there with you. I need to do some brainstorming and sketch out the interior design of the brewery. I can't really do anything else until I have that figured out. Plus, it'll give my feet some time to recover from the chaos of the last week."

Fifteen minutes later, Dylan and I and a paper grocery bag filled with bagels are walking down the road toward the castle, neither of us wanting to waste a single second of this gorgeous weather. After handing them out and lots of good morning kisses and pats of affection, I scarf down another bagel while watching Charlie and the guys discuss different design elements. I want to listen–should listen–but I can't help but relax into the warmth of the sun streaming through the windows. I balance my sketchbook on my lap and slowly drag my pencil over the paper, sketching out the boundaries of the brewery space. Whenever I imagine it, I think of the brewing area being open to the rest of the building. Shiny copper brewing kettles line the back wall, making it obvious that we craft our own beer and are proud of it. I want the rest of the space to flow seamlessly between the inside seating area and a beer garden. Perhaps most importantly, it has to be family-friendly. Basically the exact opposite of the pub. I'll need to ask the guys how they feel about me offering bar snacks. Obviously, it would have to be different from the food they serve in the pub. And to be honest, I'm not even sure how that would work. I wasn't planning on hiring a chef. Maybe just something simple like charcuterieboards? I jot the word 'food' down at the edge of the paper with a question mark. I'll have to think about it more later.

I'm leaning toward comfortable seating over traditional wooden tables and chairs. Armchairs, sofas, and the like—where people can get cozy and stay a while. Maybe several long tables for bigger groups and shelving for books and board games. What I want most of all is for people to feel at home. I finish sketching my ideas out on paper and end up with a somewhat recognizable bird's-eye view of the brewery and outdoor space.

"What do you think?" I ask Charlie as she pulls up a chair beside me and plops down, wincing slightly. I hand her the sketchbook and drop to the floor, pulling her feet into my lap.

"You're an angel," she groans, leaning back in the chair, balancing the sketch on her stomach as I rub her feet. "This is the back wall?" she asks, making sure she has it turned the right way. I nod, watching her face for clues as she studies it. She takes her time, a grin slowly spreading over her face. "This is going to be amazing, Isla. I'm so fucking proud of you."

"Do you think I should change anything?"

"Not a single thing. What color scheme did you decide to go with?"

"Green and gold."

"It's going to be beautiful. I can't wait to see it finished." She sets the sketch down on my chair and closes her eyes. She looks exhausted.

"How are you feeling? Less than two weeks to go now, right?" I ask, pressing my thumbs into the balls of her feet.

"I'm so ready for this baby to be born. My entire body hurts. I can't sleep. I have to pee every ten minutes."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

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