Page 194 of Surfer's Paradise

His hands were everywhere now—raking up her shirt, pressing into her ribs, dragging a moan from her mouth with nothing more than his grip and the heat in his eyes.

“The problem for you is I know what you like,” he said, his voice gone hoarse. “I know what gets you wild. You want to feel what I’ve been holding back, thinking about all day for you.”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

One word. That was all it took.

Isaac leaned in, kissing her like it was a promise and a punishment all at once. It was deep, slow, devastating—the kind of kiss that made her toes curl and her body strain forward. Tongue sweeping hers. Teeth grazing her lower lip.

“Now” he demanded against her mouth. “Tell me you want me to lose control.”

“I want you,” she whispered, breathless. “All of you. Rough.”

The sound he made was somewhere between a growl and a groan.

His hands slid under her shirt—his shirt, really—and up her ribs. He didn’t ask permission. He didn’t have to. He’d learned her body like a second language. Knew exactly how to undo her.

“You know how many times I’ve imagined this?” he rasped. “You on my counter. Begging me. Soaked through for me.”

Her head fell back when his mouth found her neck, hot and demanding, his stubble scraping just enough to make her whimper.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.

“You know what I see when I look at you?” he said. “Not just a girl I want to mess around with. Not just somewhere to bury my cock. I see a goddamn fire I’ve been burning in for twenty years.”

Rosie’s fingers curled in his shirt. She was dizzy. She was molten.

“Take this off,” Isaac growled, voice low, nearly a command as he tugged at the shirt she wore. His shirt. “I want to see you.”

Rosie lifted her arms. The cotton slipped away, and his gaze locked on her like she’d just answered a prayer.

He exhaled sharp. Then his hands were on her again—palming her bare waist, cupping her hips, keeping her pinned there on the counter like she might disappear if he let go.

Her breath caught.

Then he kissed her again—deeper this time. Hungrier. And when his hands slipped lower, dragging her even closer, she let him.

Dinner was forgotten.

The whole world was, too.

“You’re mine,” he muttered, mouth against her shoulder now, kissing down her collarbone. “Every inch of you. No sharing. No second guessing. Just mine.”

Rosie moaned, fingers threading into his hair as he bit gently at the curve of her shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

That only made him growl.

“You like that?” he rasped, lips dragging hot across her skin. “You like when I get rough with you?”

She nodded, breathless. “Yes.”

Isaac pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. His pupils were blown wide, his jaw tight, his breathing ragged.

“I think about this all day,” he said, thumb brushing over her lips. “Coming home to you. Putting you right here. Showing you who you belong to.”

Her thighs clenched instinctively. He noticed. That was all he needed.

His hand fisted in the back of her hair, tugging gently, guiding her gaze up to him. “You’re gonna be good for me. You’re gonna let me use you.”

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