Page 155 of Surfer's Paradise

Only him.

Always him.

And Isaac watched her like she was his salvation. Like this was the holiest thing he’d ever seen.

She was trembling.

Her hand was still between her thighs, Isaac’s palm pressed over hers, their fingers tangled. Every stroke, every pulse of pleasure surged through her nerves like lightning.

He was watching her like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Like he’d burn it into memory for the rest of his life.

Her chest rose and fell, lips parted. “Isaac…”

That one word—his name—came out wrecked and fragile and pleading.

He shifted suddenly, his body moving lower, strong shoulders easing between her thighs, his lips grazing her wrist as he gently moved her hand away. Taking over. He licked her clit, dreamy, circling. Soft, slow, unbearably gentle at first, just the heat of him and his tongue parting her. Then firmer. Focused.

“You know I used to think about this,” he said, voice low, rough, like gravel under velvet. “Before I ever kissed you. Before I ever touched you. I used to think… what the fuck would it be like?”

She swallowed, unable to look away.

“I’d be on some op halfway across the world,” he went on, licking slowly, purposefully. “Sand in my boots. Saltwater in my lungs. But my head?” He hovered over her now, bracing his arms on either side of her, face inches from hers. “It was full of you.”

“Isaac…”

“I’d picture you exactly like this,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her thigh as his fingers found her soaked pussy. “Your skin. Your mouth. Wondering if you’d be soft. If you’d taste sweet.”

His lips grazed her clit again. She arched toward him involuntarily. Wanting more. Needing.

“And you know what I hated the most?” he said, licking kisses down her clit, to the sensitive spot just beneath her hood that he was coming to know. “I knew you weren’t mine. I knew you were off-limits.”

She could barely breathe as he licked her clit faster, then again, rougher. He flattened his tongue and increased the pressure. The pace. Her fingers curled into the sheets. Her hips lifted instinctively.

And then—

His tongue was doing magical things.

Rosie let out a sound she didn’t recognize, her head falling back into the pillow. She was already on edge—already so close from touching herself with him watching—but now? His shoulders holding her thighs open. His mouth tasting her pussy like she was the most decadent thing he’d ever touched.

“Isaac,” she gasped, her voice broken.

He didn’t stop. He didn’t let up. He growled softly against her, like he was the one unraveling, like the taste of her was undoing him.

And maybe it was.

Because she could feel the way his hands gripped her ass, her hips, the tension in his forearms, the rhythm of his mouth—hungry and desperate and so, so good.

Her fingers threaded into his dark hair, tugging, anchoring herself to something—to him—as her whole body tightened, wound up, and began to break.

“I can’t—” she whimpered, and he hummed against her, the vibration sending her spiraling.

Pleasure surged. Bright and violent and hot. She shattered, her back arching, thighs clenching around his head. Isaac held her through it, drinking her in, not stopping, not until she was twitching and breathless, her body sinking into the mattress like her bones had melted.

She blinked up at the ceiling, heart pounding, chest heaving, completely undone.

And when he finally rose, face flushed, lips glistening, dark eyes full of heat and something dangerously close to love—

All she could do was reach for him until he was hovering on top of her again, caging her in.

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