Page 187 of Irreversible

“And then he started fucking your best friend while you were locked away in a madman’s den, waiting for him to rescue you.” He shrugs. “So I’ve heard.”

I frown. “How do you even know that?”

“Does it matter?”

An angry growl escapes, and I shove him away with both hands. “Don’t forget, you disappeared from my life just as easily.”

He grabs me again, pulling me back.

Squirming in his grip, I grit my teeth. “You vanished without a word, leaving me to pick up the pieces.”

“I had my reasons.”

“You’re just as much a part of my past as he is.”

“And yet, here we are.” Isaac sinks a hand into my hair, curling his fist, the tension between us crackling like a live wire. “What are you going to do about it?”

A sound escapes: part wince, part moan. “Let me go.”

“You first.”

I notice my hands are gripping the lapels of his leather coat, holding him to me. The realization sends a jolt of confusion through my senses, but my body betrays me, craving the closeness. The alley fades away, car engines and faraway voices replaced by the pounding of my heart. I’m trapped between the memories of his absence and the intoxication of his presence.

Our eyes meet.

Weakness carves a tunnel through me.

I yank him forward, crushing my lips to his.

Isaac groans hotly, opening his mouth, lashing his tongue against mine as his hands cup my face, fingers digging into my cheeks.

All those days, weeks, months, divided by a wall—God, this was inevitable. This physical draw, this connection I can’t seem to shake. The weight of his return, the intensity of his need, blurs the line between desire and reality. I arch against him, wanting more, wanting all of him.

Wanting the way he made me feel before everything went wrong.

He tugs on my hair, slanting my head until our mouths angle, tasting deeper. My leg draws up, coiling around his thigh, seeking friction. Teeth nick and bite, hands grab and claw, and before I can take a breath, I feel the button on my jeans snap open. Collapsing against the wall, I close my eyes as his hand slips inside the waistband, his fingers stroking me through my underwear.

A high-pitched moan tears through me, and Isaac captures it with his mouth. His fingers rub against wet silk, our tongues tangling with fire and desperation. My thighs spread wider. I need his fingers inside me, to tug aside the scrap of underwear and plunge deep.

“Please,” I whimper, dragging my hands up his neck, gripping his hair as we break apart. Our lips hover, parted and needy, breaths intertwining. “Isaac…”

Two fingers work me faster, bringing me to the edge, the euphoric peak.

I’m already close. I’m already so?—

Then he stops.

All motion freezes.

I nearly cry out with frustration when he pulls his hand free, curling it around my hip as he presses our foreheads together.

“I’m staying at the Crossroads Inn,” he says, voice low and dark.

It takes a moment for his words to register.

For the implication to settle in my chest.

My lips flatten into a thin line, my face flaming. I straighten against the wall, readjusting my camisole before sweeping loose hair out of my eyes. “I’m not a booty call.”

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