Page 68 of Unraveling an Enigma
In the process of our kiss, I’ve somehow gone from kneeling on the bed to straddling Isaac’s lap. His lengthened rod rubs against my oversensitive pussy as he slides us across the bed. When he reaches the edge, he stands up, taking me with him.
“I want to taste you, Isabelle” he croons seductively against my lips. “But first, I have to feed you.”
His efficient strides have us reaching the wooden kitchen more quickly than a heartbeat. A huff escapes my lips when he places me on the tiled countertop in the kitchen. His tantalizing kiss awoke my libido, and it was anticipating a mouth-salivating Isaac Holt for breakfast.
Hearing my shameful protest to the loss of his contact, Isaac pivots around to face me. In silence, his eyes rake my body. Even though I’m only dressed in one of his short-sleeve t-shirts and a pair of panties, he looks at me like I’m the most precious jewel in the world. My knees meet when a genuine smile carves onto his strikingly handsome face.
“Food first.” His demanding tone causes a shiver to involuntarily run through my body.
Several core-clenching seconds pass between us in silence. A triumphant grin curls my lips high when Isaac is the first to break our intense stare-down by dropping his gaze to watch my tongue leisurely slide across my top lip.
A rush of excitement shoots through my body when Isaac mutters, “You’ll pay for that,” before striding to the fridge to remove eggs, bacon, and a loaf of bread.
He doesn’t ask what I'd like to eat. That isn’t Isaac. He assesses my needs and desires in silence and formulates his own judgment. I'm starving, though. So I'll happily eat anything he presents to me without a protest leaving my lips. I did the same thing yesterday when he took care of me.
Isaac was attentive and gentle, while also being firm when needed. He stressed that nothing I could have done would have made any difference in the situation because the gentleman most likely was deceased before I became an FBI agent. He gave me the space I needed to gather my thoughts in peace, and he offered me a shoulder to cry on when the vivid images became too much for me to bare. He has been perfect in every single way, and my love for him has grown even stronger the past twenty-four hours.
“Did you want me to help with anything?” I hop off the countertop.
Isaac shifts his head to the side as one of his brows arches high into his hairline. He may have discovered the hard way that I’m not a very good cook. One morning, I even set the toaster in his kitchen on fire. It was his fault, though. I wanted my toast a little browner, and he distracted me with his skillful tongue, so I forgot I had pressed the toast down for the second time.
“I can make coffee?” I suggest with a hunch.
Isaac smiles. “The coffee and sugar are in that cupboard,” he answers, pointing to an overhead cabinet behind my head while he pulls a skillet out from a cupboard next to an old-style oven.
For the next twenty minutes, Isaac moves effortlessly around the kitchen, making scrambled eggs, maple syrup bacon, and French toast. The smell filtering through the cabin is nearly as intoxicating as him. I aide him the best I can, by gathering the egg shells from the counter and placing them in the waste bin, and setting the small two-seater table in the living area with cutlery, placemats, and glasses. Even though it is early in the morning, the setting looks like a romantic date since it is set up next to an open fireplace.
Isaac gathers the two plates overflowing with scrumptious breakfast treats while I grab the pot of coffee and carton of orange juice. The only sounds heard for the next several minutes are the pleasurable moans erupting from my mouth as I sample each delicious item on my plate. Isaac remains quiet, but I can feel the heat of his captivating eyes watching me. My moans may have become a little more dramatic when he adjusts the crotch of his pants.
Satisfied and full to the brim, I push my plate away and lean back into the chair. My laidback eyes absorb the cabin. The room is a decent size, nearly the size of the living room in my apartment, but because of the wooden features and exposed vaulted ceilings, it has a homey feel to it.
The roof is curved just like the half circle window in Isaac’s bedroom, and is done out of varnished wood. There is one framed oil painting of a country setting hanging above the open fireplace, and a selection of photos on the mantelpiece below it. My pulse accelerates when my gaze zooms in on a picture displayed on the mantelpiece.
My confused eyes shoot to Isaac. “When did you take that?”
A broad grin lifts his lips high. “The night you slept at my apartment. That was after you gave me your panties.”
My eyes snap to his. He smirks and cockily winks. He stands from his seat to gather the picture I’m referring to. It is a close-up photo of my face. My eyes are shut, my mouth is ajar, and smears of mascara are under my eyes.
“Why would you frame that photo? I look wretched.”
Isaac’s broad grin slackens. “It is the only photo I have of you,” he replies, more to himself than me.
My brows stitch as a dull ache hits my chest. Because we were forced to keep our relationship a secret, we never got to be an average couple. We didn’t go on fancy dates or met each other’s friends and family. We kept our life hidden away. Not just from the world, but ourselves as well. Our relationship was never given a chance to truly get out of the gate since it was shrouded in so much secrecy from the very first day.
“I’m going to resign from my position at the FBI,” I inform him, my tone low.
Isaac stiffens from my admission. He remains quiet as he places the photo back onto the mantelpiece before pivoting around to face me. His face is reserved and constricted with apprehension.
“I don’t—”
“I’m not just doing it for you, Isaac,” I interrupt, rising from the chair to stand in front of him. “I'm also doing it for me. I can’t live without you, but I can’t have you and work for the Bureau.”
Isaac cups my cheek with his big hand. “If Theresa’s investigation is rattling you, you don’t have to worry, I have my lawyer working on having her investigation squashed. She has no credible evidence against you. Once it is cleared, we can be together.”
I shake my head. “It isn’t the IA or Theresa I am worried about. It’s me. I literally cannot breathe without you in my life. The past week, everything was numb. Not just my heart, but my entire body.” Tears loom in my eyes. “Being in the FBI means I could be transferred to anywhere in the country on a whim. I don’t want that.”
Isaac’s thumbs dab my eyes to remove my tears before they can spill. Happy my eyes are moisture free, he clasps my hand in his, then lifts it to his mouth. A shiver of anticipation sparks through me when he kisses my palm. He doesn’t need to speak any words to reflect that he cares for me. His actions show it. His dominance. The way he protects me. Every little thing he does demonstrates that he cares for me more than words ever could. It is early in our relationship, but I’d give up anything to ensure he remains a part of my life.
