Page 198 of Surfer's Paradise

Hot. Slow. Brutal.

She cried out, head falling back, thighs trembling in his grip.

He didn’t give her an inch.

Didn’t let her run from it. From him.

And he didn’t stop. Not when she begged. Not when she came. Not when she trembled, breathless and undone, shivering beneath the weight of him.

He stayed there, licking her slow now, like he wasn’t done tasting her. Like he never would be.

And all she could do was feel.

All she could do was fall.

Into him. Into the fire. Into everything he’d been holding back for years.

And she wanted all of it.

* * * * *

Isaac was losing his goddamn mind.

He stopped moving, just enough to make her whimper with frustration, her body shuddering.

“That’s what I thought,” he breathed. “You like it when I’m in control, don’t you?”

A choked nod.

“I know how to take care of you. Don’t I?”

“Y-Yes. Isaac, please—”

That did it.

His control snapped.

He shoved his fingers back inside her and kissed her hard—deep and messy and full of heat. Then he broke the kiss, panting now, rubbing himself against her thigh.

“I’m gonna fuck you again,” he growled. “And you’re gonna let me take every inch of you like it’s mine. Because it is. It always was.”

Rosie moaned, her hands still above her head, knuckles white in anticipation.

And Isaac—he was gone.

Gone in her.

Gone in the way she gave herself to him.

Gone in the idea that maybe, for the first time, someone actually needed him like this.

And he never wanted to let go.

He dragged his lips from hers and pulled back just enough to see her, really see her. Rosie, breathless and wrecked, pupils blown wide, her hair wild across his pillow, her legs trembling against his hips.

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

And he wasn’t done.

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