Page 59 of Prelude To You

The only defense I had left was my commitment to the empire. But at this point, even that was teetering on the edge of a bottomless void.

I was so fucked, it was laughable.

So yes, my goalpost for this evening kept shifting from one place to another. After failing to find a significant flaw in Isabel, I decided that satisfying our unrivaled desire for each other would be the final solution. That was the end game, for me anyway; to fuck each other senseless for one night, and then move on with our separate lives in our very different worlds.

The only reason I hadn’t dragged her to the penthouse to immediately satiate our hunger was that my unsuspected conscience suddenly sprang to life—subduing my impulse to do what I did best with the women who agreed to spend a few hours of enjoyment with me.

But Isabel was so different from them. There was no prancing, preening or pretense on her part. And this inexplicable fascination we had with each other scared her more than it intrigued her. A fear that those big emerald eyes candidly expressed.

I wanted to think that one night with her would cure my fixation. But at the same time I harbored this impulse to wrap her in my arms and keep her safe and warm. I wanted to protect her from any evil in the world that might do her harm.

I wanted to listen to that throaty voice urging me to ravage her, and I wanted to hear that little laugh of hers, even if all itdid was peel away another layer of resistance from my carefully constructed shield.

Hard as I tried not to reminisce about that dusky hallway, it was useless, every moment imprinted on my mind. And it had been impossible not to dwell on it ever since. She felt exactly as I imagined she would underneath her clothes, and her whimpering at my touch was seared into my memory for life.

There was still an opportunity to get this situation contained. The wine bar’s private room was an excellent opportunity to set the record straight, and make sure Isabel and I were on the same page about this evening. She had to understand that there was no tomorrow here.

I’d never had a problem explaining to a woman that the evening ended when we were both fully satisfied. That there would be no cuddling or whispering sweet nothings or planning the next date. Not that some didn’t try to become more permanent fixtures in my life, but those I simply deleted from future activities.

My reluctance to spell this out to Isabel in no uncertain terms was puzzling, if not downright alarming. But there I was, so sure I had it all under control, while at the same realizing that none of it was even remotely in my control.

She sat across from me at the narrow wine-tasting table, the picture of radiance, her cheeks flushed and the afterglow of that orgasm still brazenly evident. Admittedly I gaped a little as she greedily emptied her crystal glass of water, wiping stray drops from her lips with the back of her hand.

I would have given her my handkerchief, but I’d already used it to wipe the bottoms of her feet after she danced on the lawn.

How was all of this so goddamn adorable?

“You were thirsty,” I remarked, rather unnecessarily.

She smiled happily. “Yes, I was. That was delicious. Thank you.”

Her head tilted as she watched me with equal measures of fervor and trepidation. It was time to gently let her know that nothing between us would go beyond tonight. But she stole my moment.

“You’re worrying again, Roman,” she said softly, then reached across the table and placed her finger on my talking vein.

I wanted to alleviate her concern for me, even if her care flooded me with warmth. “How can you tell the difference between worry and desire?” I said. “It’s a contradiction in terms.”

Her finger trailed down to my mouth, where she touched my lower lip. “When it’s desire you push out your lower lip a tiny fraction.” Her finger trailed down to my jaw. “And when you’re worried your jaw muscle flexes. It’s hardly noticeable. But it’s there.”

Well, now. If she didn’t have me pegged.

I wasn’t about to tell her that she was the reason for both my desire and my worry. I took her hand and pressed my mouth to her palm, which caused her body to arch faintly with delight, and those lips to part ever-so-slightly. Which naturally kindled heat at the base of my spine, making my cock unwittingly react.

“You’re either very observant,” I said, teasing her. “Or I’m an open book.”

A smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You’re anything but an open book, Roman.”

She watched as I kissed the tips of her fingers, her pulse beating furiously in the hollow of her throat as the apprehension in her eyes dissolved into want.

There was no question that I could spend a considerable amount of time appreciating her reaction to my touch. And touching her was foremost on my mind. The strength to fightthis seeped out of me, and my entire body felt alive and willing to bend to all of Isabel’s needs.

Suddenly every sexual encounter I’d had with other women seemed void of substance, all of them so well-versed and predictable. Synchronized to give and receive pleasure with no emotional warmth.

There were no unexpected moments in secret hallways that took my breath away, no stealing kisses in the foyer of the Belmont Hotel, no sitting in a wine-tasting room kissing palms and fingers or savoring the taste of her essence still lingering on my tongue.

Nor were there the stomach-twisting moments when I remembered who I was, and how pursuing Isabel would lead to an unprecedented disaster that did no one any good, least of all her.

Isabel’s soft husky voice yanked me out of my winding thoughts. “Earth to Roman.”

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