Page 73 of Enigma: The Final Chapter
“You're still one crazy son of a bitch,” Cormack chuckles as he shadows me down the corridor after my match against The Constrictor.
Although the fight went on a little longer than I’m accustomed to, it was a decent match that kept the spectators sitting on the edges of their seats. The Constrictor is a well-built brute of a man. His shoulders are nearly double the width of mine, but that brought up the notion, ‘the bigger they are, the harder they fall.’ And he hit the boxing mat on numerous occasions throughout the night. Call me conceited, but I wiped his arrogant smirk right off his abhorrent face, and I loved every minute of it.
“Is this going to become our regular Friday night schedule again?” Cormack’s tone is full of sarcasm.
He can be playful. It isn’t his body he's putting on the line. Although I'm walking away with my undefeated title still firmly in place, I'm sporting a few bruises and a possible cracked rib I didn’t have earlier. After sitting on the bench seat in the locker room, I remove the tape from my hands. My body is flushed with heat, the blood pumping through my veins as hot as the sun. There's only one other thing that can cause this much adrenaline in quick succession. That thing is Isabelle. My Achilles heel. My hardest fought battle.Mine.
An hour later, after being given the all-clear from the medical team, I drive through the gates of my private residence. When I exit my Bugatti, I feel Isabelle’s presence before I see her. She's leaning against the French doors of my home, wearing a pair of super-tight denim jeans and a black ribbed sweater. My cock hardens when my eyes roam over one of the most captivating faces I’ve ever seen. Sexual energy crackles between us, making my blood even more potent as the thrill of the hunt scorches through my veins.
In the corner of my eye, I catch the quickest flash of a grin from Hugo before he jumps into his Chevelle parked in the shadow of the night. He tears out of the driveway, leaving the scent of burning rubber in his wake.
Isabelle nervously fiddles with the hem of her sweater as my lengthy strides span the distance between us. Although her eyes are still guarded, they're sparked with lust. She’s yearning to be touched. Consumed. Devoured.
“Isaac.” The huskiness of her voice has my cock stiffening more.
“No, Isabelle. Not now, not yet.”
I crowd her against the door, leaving not even an inch of air between us.
“We need to talk.” Her voice is barely audible over the roaring of my pulse in my ears.
“I know, baby, but not now.”
I seal my mouth over hers, not giving her the chance to protest. It’s been too long since I’ve tasted her delicious lips. My body is still pumping with adrenaline from the fight, but seeing her again has sparked a new type of adrenaline to streak my blood.
Within a second, her determined stance goes lax, and her arms sling around my neck. When I grope the back of her thighs, her legs curl around my waist. Her switch from resolute to submissive is quick and complete.
I rock my hips, ensuring she can feel the effect she has on my body. She isn’t the only one who becomes lost when we're together. My astuteness, my levelheadedness, my ruthlessness, it all becomes null and void when her mouth is on mine.
My kiss steals every whimper escaping her mouth as my stiffened shaft rubs the seam of her jeans. I don’t know if any of my staff are still in the vicinity, and in all honesty, I don’t care. No one else matters when Isabelle is on my radar.
Not a soul.
My blood thickens, enticed by the mass injection of endorphins from Isabelle’s mind-blowing kiss. She makes me feel invincible like nothing could ever stop me from achieving my dreams, and I want it to be the same for her. That’s why I spent the last thirty-six hours doing precisely that, ensuring I decipher how she can have both her dreams and me. Once all the pieces of the puzzle are in place, I’ll show her that I didn’t steal her dreams, they were just hidden from view for a few months.
When I pull back from our embrace, Isabelle’s eyes bounce between mine. She doesn’t need to speak. Her eyes are expressive enough. Her sorrow for her harsh words and her silent pleas for forgiveness are all relayed by her rich chocolate eyes. No words need to seep from her lips for her to articulate her remorse.
I press a kiss to her palm before placing it on my heart, soundlessly forgiving her.
Tears form in her eyes as she replies to my declaration of love with words. “I love you too.”
Her breaths quicken when I walk us down the long hallway of my residence. She intakes a quick, sharp breath when I swing open the bedroom door at the end of the hall, her arousing purr hardening my cock.
When I push my lips to the shell of her ear, the hairs on her neck prickle. “If you ever try to leave me again, I'll tie you to that swing and never let you leave this room.”
She shudders in my arms as her thighs strengthen their grip on my hips. I snap my eyes shut and inhale deeply, relishing the smell of her skin mingled with the scent of her arousal. Once I’ve had half my fill, I pace us toward the sex swing hanging in the middle of the room, my lengthened strides only stopping when Isabelle murmurs, “Ophelia is alive.”
Chapter 30
Isabelle
Other than Isaac stiffening, I would assume he didn’t hear my statement. On the flight back to Ravenshoe, I envisioned ways of telling him more judiciously, but my plans flew out the window when I saw the determination set in his eyes—the yearning to claim and mark me as his, to ensure I was aware I belonged to him. His dominant nature beams out of him. It’s as natural to him as breathing, but I don’t want him to claim me when he's not aware of the extenuating circumstances that may change his mind about whom he wants to claim.
I love Isaac, but even I know that may not be enough anymore.
My initially devised tactic already altered once tonight when I arrived at the arena where Isaac was preparing to participate in a charity fight. When I saw him sitting on the bench with his head hanging low, deep in thought, I knew I couldn’t share my discovery with him in that environment. Tonight was the first time he’s stepped foot into the ring since Ophelia’s ‘accident.’ That, alone, showed he was emerging from the dark cloud that’s been plaguing him since her ‘death.’
Even knowing Ophelia is alive, Isaac needed to go through that process to help him heal. Although I bit my nails the entire time, I watched his fight from the side of the arena. The instant I spotted his succulent smirk, I knew I made the right decision. He loved every second of the match, even getting battered and bruised.
