Page 80 of Heartless Game

More than it should.

And then the locker room. It should’ve been humiliating, the way he’d used my body. I should’ve hated the way he edged me, playing me like a musician and not letting me come even though I needed to. But not only had I come, hard, I was more satisfied than I’d ever been in my entire life. Isaac didn’t know, of course, that he was the only man who had ever touched me that way. But when he’d told me in that deep growl that I was his and no one else would ever lay a hand on me, part of my heart had detached from my body and spilled out onto his hand. When he’d called me “everything,” even more of it defected to join his team. Maybe they were the parts that had always been his, since we were young children and he’d promised to protect me then, too. I didn’t know. All I knew is that I was losing pieces of myself to this man, even though he’d hurt me.

Possibly because instead of getting angry at me for challenging him at the hockey game, he’d been amused, even impressed.

And then had stood up for me.

Even though he supposedly still hated me.

The goddamned sun could fall out of the sky and the world would still burn bright as long as you’re in it.

God.

I had to face him.

And say what?

Exhaling, I opened the bathroom door. In the bedroom, Isaac was stripping out of his clothes. The lamp beside the bed lit his body with a copper glow.

His eyes landed on me, and they warmed. Opening his arms, he gestured me forward.

I stared at him.

Did he…

…did he want me to hug him?

“Come here,” he said gruffly, and slowly, like I was stepping on eggshells or possibly landmines, I made my way over to him. Once I was within arm’s reach, he grabbed my wrists, pulling me against his body, wrapping my arms around his back, and then wrapping his own around my waist. Isaac was so tall; I barely came up to his chest. As he held me, the world and all my fears and confusion and worries receded, until all that was, was him.

“Do we hug now?” I asked his chest.

It vibrated with his laughter. “I guess. I don’t fucking know. I’m not going to even pretend I know what I’m doing with you anymore, Tovah.”

“Me neither,” I admitted, and the way he laughed again warmed something in my soul, something that had been slowly, cautiously defrosting since the night he’d tied me to the statue.

We stood there for a while, quiet but together, warming each other, protecting each other. Caring about each other, maybe. Although I couldn’t entirely let myself trust that, or him.

Could I?

Deciding to be brave, I pulled away from his chest.

“I’m not done holding you,” he grumbled, but I was already grabbing his hand and tugging him to the bed.

Shockingly, he let me guide him.

“Lie down,” I said, pushing at his arms, and he did.

I climbed onto the bed and over his body, straddling his stomach, still in my towel. His eyes grew hazy.

“This looks fun,” he commented, reaching for my waist.

I stopped him, pulling his arms off me and lowering them to the bed.

Once again, he surprised me by letting me.

I swallowed. “Will you tell me about your tattoos?”

He blinked. “You climbed on top of me in only a towel so you could ask me about my tattoos?”

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