Page 54 of Isaia

I bite down on my lip, stifling another moan as he works me over, his touch relentless and devastating. The rhythm of his fingers builds, pushing me closer to the edge with every teasingstroke, and I can feel myself unraveling, tension coiling tighter and tighter until it’s unbearable.

He turns, and I open my eyes to see a long, straight road ahead of us. “You ready?” His finger pushes in deep, and my mouth falls open as I gasp for breath.

Isaia steps on the gas, and the car roars beneath us, surging forward with a violent burst of speed. The force presses me back against the seat, and I’m on sensory overload.

The pressure of his fingers inside me is relentless. My pulse races, matching the Ferrari’s furious rhythm, and I can barely breathe, my body caught between the thrill of his touch and the breakneck pace of the car.

“Hold on, sweet girl,” he says, his voice thick with control and something darker. “This isn’t a ride you’ll forget.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat coursing through me, and I’m no longer capable of controlling the moans I make, his finger curling just right, hitting a spot that has my legs trembling.

“Jesus, Isaia,” I gasp, clutching the edge of the seat.

“That’s it. Let me hear those pretty sounds. Don’t hold back. I want every moan, every breath. They belong to me.”

The words unravel me, and when he slides his finger into me once more, the stretch sends a jolt of pleasure straight through me, his palm working my clit hard and fast.

I can’t help the way my hips tilt, trying to take him deeper, and he chuckles, the sound rich and sinful, while I’m chasing a release that has me in a chokehold.

His hand doesn’t falter, his fingers curling with precision, dragging over that spot inside me that has stars sparking behind my eyes.

My thighs tremble, my nails digging into the seat as I clutch at anything to ground myself, but there’s no grounding this. No controlling the way he’s pulling me apart, piece by piece.

“Come for me, baby girl. Make a fucking mess in my palm.”

And I do—shattering with a cry, my body clenching around his fingers as pleasure crashes over me, wave after wave.

“Fuck!” I cry, slamming my palm against the roof of the car, lifting my hips, my ass off the seat so his fingers can work me through an orgasm that ripples on and on, an endless intensity that blinds me, white-hot and consuming, leaving me trembling and utterly undone. I barely register the smooth way he keeps control of the car, even as my world tilts and spins.

As the last tremors fade, I open my eyes, my chest heaving. Isaia slows the car, and his hand lingers for a moment longer, his fingers sliding away with maddening slowness as if he’s reluctant to let me go.

He lifts his hand to his lips, his tongue flicking out to taste me, and the sight is so raw, so sinful, that my breath catches all over again.

“Christ. You taste like something I’ll never deserve,” there’s a wicked glint in his eyes, “but I’ll take it anyway.”

Everything’s a blur until we pull up in front of Ember & Bean, his eyes dark and unreadable as he shifts the car into park. The gleaming yellow Ferrari hums beneath us, but the space between us is electric, crackling with everything he just did to me.

I’m still trying to catch my breath when he gets out, rounds the car, and opens the door for me.

“Out,” he orders, and there’s no mistaking the edge of command. I climb out, my knees barely holding me as the cool air hits my flushed skin. He crowds me, my back against the car, his eyes wild with promise. “Next time, you won’t be walking anywhere.”

My breath hitches, and I practically float onto the curb, watching him get back in the car. “Lock your door tonight,” he says. It’s not a warning—it’s a promise.

And I hate how much I want him to keep it.

Chapter 17

EVERLY

Ishift in my bed, jolted awake by a sense of being watched. I rub my eyes, trying to erase the lingering images of a dream that felt all too real.

The room is shrouded in darkness, with only slivers of moonlight peeking through the blinds and painting bars of light and darkness onto the sheets.

“Good, you’re awake.”

“Oh, my God!” I jolt upright against the headboard, my heart racing in my chest. “Isaia? What the fuck?” Trembling, I reach for the lamp on the nightstand and turn it on, and my breath catches in my throat.

He’s sitting in the chair by the window, his presence a perfect storm of danger and seduction. Shadows cling to the sharp lines of his face, accentuating his chiseled jaw and cheekbones like some dark god sculpted them.

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