Page 21 of Resisting Isaac
Fuck, that mouth. That body. Those damn eyes.
She was radiant when I first met her, but she was ethereal after an orgasm. And I should know. If I counted right, she had somewhere around five or six of them.
A new personal best for me, and I hope, for her.
Hook ups were typically just fun, a laid-back good time where I mostly focused on letting a woman use my body to get herself off. There was some playful banter, not much kissing. Kissing felt more intimate than sex, so I’d avoided it soas not to lead anyone to believe it was more than one body part going into another.
I’d never tell my brothers, but sometimes the women I went home with just wanted to talk—often about an ex who’d wronged them or their asshole of a boss or the latest frenemy drama. Sometimes we watched a movie and passed out drunk, maybe a little oral here and there.
The rowdiest time I’d had recently was with a tourist and unfortunately, Beau’s latest crush. They’d mostly been busy trying to outdo one another, doing more arguing than dick riding. I lost interest several times that night and never even came.
They didn’t notice or care. But my mystery girl made it clear she wasn’t going to be happy unless she got me off.
None of my previous encounters have been anything like last night.
This woman was a level of intensity that demanded my full attention from the moment I laid eyes on her until the second she drifted off in my arms. Sweaty, sated, with a small smile on those perfect plump lips.
I never even got her name.
And she sure as hell didn’t care to know mine.
That was a first, too.
I make it to the truck with five minutes to spare and a hell of a lot more questions than answers.
Today’s the meet-the-production-crew ordeal at the ranch. Tomorrow begins six weeks of training actors how to ride, rope, and fake cowboy their way through scenes my sister-in-law wrote.
And I’m late.
Of course I am.
Because I was too busy getting laid by a woman who itfeels I dreamt into existence. I can already hear Wyatt giving me Hell.
Worth it.
I shift the truck into gear and gun it down the road, dust rising in clouds behind me.
At least I’m no longer worried about upholding that contract I have to sign and hand over to Ivy today.
Because no matter how many actresses show up on my family’s ranch today, none of them will be her.
An odd sinking sensation in my stomach tells me that every experience after that one will be less somehow. Less suited to me, less intense, and less satisfying.
For the first time in my thirty years, it’s going to take me a while to get over a woman.
CHAPTER EIGHT
elena
I’m worried that I’m late when the car service the network arranged pulls into a long winding driveway. Horses graze on either size of the fence as we approach a modern lodge-style farmhouse.
Triple Creek Ranch is breathtaking.
I’m filled with a sense of relief since it’s going to be home for the next six months between training camp and then filming. Ivy informed me on the phone that she’d arranged for me to stay in a guest cabin on the property. She said it was one she’d stayed in before marrying her husband, the ranch owner.
The butterfly effect was crazy. She told me she’d walked in on a cheating ex, driven here on sheer impulse to escape, rented a cabin and had been so inspired by the rancher who owned the place and his family that she’d written the pitch forWelcome to Paradise.
Now here I am. In a place I never expected to be.
