Page 72 of Isaia

The way he kisses—demanding, relentless like he’s starving for my taste.

My fingers brush over my lips, chasing the phantom heat of his mouth, the bruising intensity that left me breathless and aching for more.

Anthony’s right. Isaia consumes.

He seeps into your veins, saturating every cell until there’s nothing left but him. Every drag of his hands, every scrape of his teeth, every dark, commanding word—it all pulls me deeper into his orbit, leaving no space for thought, only raw, unfiltered sensation.

I close my eyes, and the memory of his hands sliding over my skin flares to life. He touches me like he’s memorizing every inch, every curve, like my body exists solely for his possession. His stare alone is enough to quicken my pulse, those piercing eyes dragging over me with a possessive hunger that’s equally thrilling and terrifying.

Even now, I feel it—that electric charge sparking between us whenever he’s near. It’s a pull I can’t resist, no matter how hard I try. It’s the way he looks at me like he knows every secret I’ve buried, every lie I’ve told myself. Like he’s just waiting for the perfect moment to strip me bare and devour what’s left.

God, why can’t I stop thinking about him?

My skin flushes, my thighs pressing together as the memory of his voice echoes in my head—low, rough, whispering my name like both a promise and a curse.

The way his hands gripped my hips, pulling me into him, commanding me without a single word. He’s under my skin, in my head, and I hate how much I crave the chaos he brings.

I push off the door, shaking my head as if I can shake him loose. But as I move through the quiet house, he’s everywhere—in the air, in the shadows, in every breath I take.

I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want him. But my body doesn’t care about logic or reason. It remembers the way he made me feel—alive, undone, entirely at his mercy.

And it wants more.

Chapter 21

EVERLY

Iwake up to heat.

Not just warmth from the sheets—this is something primal, alive, coursing through me in waves that drag me out of sleep and into something electric.

My mind is foggy, slow to catch up, but my body? My body is fully awake, my thighs trembling as a flicker of wet, insistent heat drags over my pussy.

What the?—

“Isaia,” I gasp, bolting upright. My head jerks down, and there he is—between my legs, eyes blazing as he feasts on me, his mouth doing unholy things that ignite a devastating flame of pleasure. “Isaia, what are you?—”

“Shh.” He doesn’t stop. Not when I try to press my legs together, not when I grab a fistful of the sheets, my eyes rolling closed.

The roughness of his jaw against my thighs sends shivers through me, a friction that sharpens the heat deep in my core. Big hands grip my flesh, fingers pulling my panties to the side,his mouth moving against me, wet and relentless, his tongue sweeping over my clit like he’s starving for it. For me.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I pant, throwing my head back, grabbing his hair. Not to pull him away. To push him closer.

“Taking what’s mine.”

There’s a sharp rip, and my panties loosen against my skin. The heat of his breath, the scrape of his stubble—it’s too much and not enough all at once.

“And you’re going to let me.” With a rough hand, he grabs my knee and forces it upward and to the side, spreading me wide.

“I don’t—” Whatever protest I think I have dies on my tongue as he flattens his against me, dragging it in one long, slow stroke that has me arching off the bed.

A gasp escapes me, high and breathy, my thighs trembling as he does it again, and again, and again.

“You let him into your house.” Venom drips from his words, hands tightening on my thighs, his grip bruising. “You let him eat off the counter where I tongue-fucked you for the first time. You let him drink my fucking bourbon, Everly.”

“What?” My brain is too foggy, too consumed by the relentless pull of his mouth to process what he’s saying. “Who?”

“Anthony.” The name is a snarl, dark and furious, before his tongue circles my clit, and I cry out, my hips bucking against his face. “I watched you. Watched him. Sitting in here like he belongs.”

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