Page 64 of Surfer's Paradise

Something deep in his chest cracked open, something hot and sharp and all-consuming.

And suddenly, he was gripping her face, crushing his mouth against hers, kissing her like he was trying to make up for every wasted fucking second.

Her lips parted instantly, letting him in, letting him own her, ruin her, give her every fucking thing she had ever wanted from him.

She moaned into his mouth, her body arching, her hands sliding down his back, over his ass, pulling him into her, dragging him deeper.

Isaac groaned, his control snapping, his thrusts turning messy, erratic, everything tightening, burning, coiling.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his whole body locking up, his cock throbbing inside her.

Rosie cried out, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her mouth brushing his jaw, her breath hot against his skin.

“Come inside me,” she whispered, wrecked, wanting.

And he did.

With a deep, guttural moan, his body jerked, pleasure slamming through him so hard he thought he might fucking break.

He buried his face in her neck, gasping, his whole body shuddering, his release surging through him, deep and raw and unrelenting.

Rosie held him through it, her fingers stroking his hair, dragging down his back, grounding him.

And Isaac?

Isaac felt fucking ruined.

Not just by the sex.

Not just by how goddamn good she felt.

But by the weight of the truth settling deep in his bones.

And he had been so fucking blind, so selfish, so stupid, wasting his time with shit that didn’t mean a damn thing. He swallowed hard, still inside her, still breathing her in, still wrapped in the heat of everything they’d just done.

His fingers curled into the sheets, his jaw clenching, his mind spinning. He needed to say something. But what the fuck could he even say? He had spent his whole goddamn life running from commitment, from the idea of being tied to anything, anyone.

He just slid to the side, holding her face, staring into her pretty blue eyes like they’d tell him what to say. She was always the wise one.

And he was just a fucking idiot.

Chapter 12

Rosie lay tangled into him, her chest rising and falling, her skin still damp with sweat, heat still lingering in every inch of her body.

What the fuck had she done?

Isaac was still holding her. Still kissing her, touching her, taking more—like he couldn’t help himself, like he was trying to keep her here.

And the worst part?

She was letting him.

Her fingers traced along his jawline, her lips meeting his, slow and indulgent. Licking against his tongue, tasting him, teasing him, drinking him in.

Her body was doing one thing, her mind screaming another.

How was she supposed to think when he was everywhere?

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