Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Isaac crooked a finger at me.
I shook my head.
He didn’t stop.
I ignored all good sense and surrendered the three steps between us, swallowing hard as I stared at his gray T-shirt that hugged his chest and biceps.
“Do you want to touch me?” he whispered.
I shook my head.
A lie.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
Another headshake.
Another lie.
“Can I touch you?” he asked.
My pulse doubled because I could feel the heat from his body and smell his cologne. And I couldn’t stop staring at his large, calloused hands and veiny, tattooed arms. Without a sane or coherent thought, I slowly nodded.
Isaac represented freedom. I didn’t idolize him, but I wanted to shrug off other people’s opinions the way he did. He was self-aware and had an enviable confidence. I wanted to focus on things like chemistry more than following a moral compass that confused me because not everyone needed to walk in the same direction.
“When I saw you in church on Easter Sunday,” Isaac said, lifting my shirt over my head.
My heart ricocheted off the walls of my chest. This wasn’t really happening. My thoughts swam in a dream state, a twisty, dizzying whirlpool.
“I knew I was fucked. Going straight to Hell.” He dropped my shirt onto the floor. “But when you sang ‘Bette Davis Eyes,’ I knew I was going to wind up dead in a ditch either at the hands of your dad, mine, or my brother.”
“Why?” I whispered in a shaky voice.
He unbuttoned my jean shorts, and my lips parted, each breath audible and ragged.
“I’m showing you why,” he murmured, squatting to pull my shorts down my legs and remove my shoes with them.
When he stood, his gaze landed on my breast. It was red from a final scrub so Matt wouldn’t see his brother’s name on me. Isaac’s gaze shifted to mine and he shot me a knowing grin. But I had no response because I was too drunk on the high I felt standing before him in nothing but my white bra and matching bikini underwear.
I didn’t like sex, but I liked feeling sexy, and Isaac excelled at eliciting that from me. And I knew I needed to tell him we weren’t having sex, but I wasn’t ready to let go of that feeling.
“You are truly,” Isaac pulled my hair away from my shoulders as he positioned himself behind me, “the most breathtaking woman I have ever seen.” He kissed my shoulder and ghosted his fingertips down my arms until they were covered in goosebumps.
I closed my eyes and drew in a slow, shaky breath.
“Dare I say angelic?” He lifted my right arm, kissed my palm, and rested it at the side of his neck. Then he feathered his hand down the inside of my arm to my breast.
As I tried to inhale, it caught in my chest. I couldn’t breathe with his hands on me.
If it really was a dream, nothing but the sins of an unhinged imagination, then it couldn’t be that wrong. Right? What man or woman was always pure in thought?
Isaac showed patience with his hand covering my breast, gently squeezing it while the pad of his thumb brushed across my flesh where his name had been. My fingernails scraped along his neck as my quickening pulse thrummed in my ears.
I was coming undone in the most thrilling, frightening way while his hands found my hips. Crouching behind me, he dragged his lips down my back and over the cotton material covering my backside. He slid his hands to the front of my legs, fingers gently curling into my inner thighs like his teeth teased my butt.
I was …
Breathless.
Warm.
And my breasts felt fuller.
My muscles more tense.
And I felt wet.
I was aroused.
“Turn around,” Isaac whispered, letting his lips hover over the hollow dip on the right side of my lower back before kissing it.
I can’t do this.
Panic warred with desire. I couldn’t have sex with him. Sex would ruin the way he made me feel. The pleasure would shift, and I didn’t want to fake anything. I didn’t want to feel any more guilt than I already felt for cheating on Matt.
Disappointing God.
Jeopardizing my family’s living situation.
Isaac didn’t push me to turn around. Instead, he guided my hand between my legs—the thin, wet cotton at my fingertips.
Again, he kissed my back, and then he rubbed his stubble-covered face along my skin, eliciting another sensation. I was drowning in pleasure, and I could no longer feel the line where his body stopped giving me pleasure, and mine began.
My fingers dipped beneath the damp fabric, and the slightest graze along my hypersensitive flesh made me weak in the knees.
I had never felt so aroused.
“If I were him, I’d put my mouth where your fingers are,” Isaac whispered with his lips at my hipbone, teasing it with the tip of his tongue.