It Takes Two (5 page)

Isabelle sighed against his mouth.

“I could do this all night,” he muttered against her lips. “So many places to put my mouth.”

“Thought we were
kissing
only,” she managed breathlessly.

“Well, French kissing is kissing. And trust me, honey, I can French kiss you in lots and lots of places.”

She started to respond, but then he turned up the heat. He moved one hand to the back of her head, the other to her thigh, lifting it, pulling her close and holding her there, then he opened his mouth on hers, stroking his tongue in possessively.

This time she moaned.

The deep, hot kiss went on and on. Isabelle felt her whole body respond. Wet and hot and tingly. All over. Her scalp prickled, her nipples tightened, her stomach felt warm and everything below that was…all of the above.

She gripped the front of his shirt and arched harder against him, wishing they were naked, wishing she had worn her four-inch heels instead of the two-inch tonight.

God, she needed him.

She slipped a hand between them, running her hand over the hard bulge behind his zipper.

He released her so suddenly she stepped back.

“Whoa girl. I’m tryin’ to be good here. Show you I can do some vanilla kissing.”

That
was vanilla kissing? Yeah, right. “I changed my mind,” she said, reaching for him.

He held his hands up and shook his head. “No way, babe. You wanted just kissing. I’m just kissing.”

“I want more than just kissing. Come on, Shane.” She stepped close and grabbed him by the shirt again. “You never say no to me.”

“Until now.” He gripped her wrist gently, but she knew she wouldn’t get her hand free until he let her go. “I’m gonna pass this test, Iz. I’m gonna pass
all
your tests.” He leaned closer until they were nose to nose. “I want you to move in with me. I want to be with you. I’ll have vanilla sex and play checkers. I’ll keep my hands completely to myself and make dinner for you every night. Or—” he leaned in close again, “—I’ll rock your frickin’ world as often, as hard and as loudly as you’ll let me.” He settled back on his heels. “It’s up to you.”

Isabelle stared at him, her heart pounding, heat swirling through her body. “Yes,” she finally said. “Yes. That last one. Right now.”

He touched his finger to her nose. “I’m gonna do this, Iz. Pretty soon you’ll be moving your panties into the top drawer of my dresser and wondering why you ever even thought to resist.”

Then he reached behind him, found the doorknob and pushed the door open.

But before he stepped through he said, “I’ll make room for your stuffed gorilla and I’ll be sure to buy extra mouthwash for that nasty morning breath you apparently have.”

As the door bumped shut behind him, Isabelle couldn’t help but think that maybe a stuffed gorilla was a better analogy than the knitting. It was big, kind of ugly, and definitely took up space in her life she wished she could use for something else.

And Shane had no idea what making room for it would entail.

It was two-fourteen in the morning. Shane knew who was ringing his doorbell and he couldn’t help but grin as he made his way through his dark condo to the front door. It had been five days, but he’d known she couldn’t stay away for good.

“Good mor—” Shane stopped mid-word as he took in the sight before him.

Isabelle wore one of his dress shirts, buttoned up nearly to the top, the sleeves rolled up, the hem hitting her mid-thigh. Her hair was down and loose. And she held a bottle of Kahlua.

“Hi.” She gave him a little smile that said she’d had exactly the effect she’d been going for.

“You drove over here wearing only that?” he asked, swinging the door shut behind her. Not that he was protesting. Exactly.

“Yep.”

“I’d be willing to put money down on the fact that you’re not wearing underwear.”

“You know me so well.”

“What if you’d gotten picked up?”

“I obeyed every speed limit, came to a full and complete stop at every stop sign and made sure I had my seatbelt on and my cell phone put away,” she said with a shrug that pulled the shirt up a few centimeters on her thigh.

“You’re here for a bedtime story?”

“I’m here to drink Kahlua,” she said, spinning away from him and heading for the den, where his bar was.

Okay. Well, he liked Kahlua.

“This is your Kahlua-drinking outfit, then?” he asked, following her.

“I don’t have a Kahlua-drinking outfit,” she said. She uncapped the bottle then lifted it to her lips and took a long drink.

“You want to drink Kahlua naked? I’m fine with that.” He stopped in front of her and reached for the bottle.

She held it up away from him. As if she could actually hold it high enough that he couldn’t reach it. But he let his hand fall back to his side.

“The shirt’s only here to keep the Kahlua from getting all over your bar,” she said.

“What do you—” But what she meant became crystal clear as she unbuttoned the shirt with one hand, took another drink from the bottle in her other hand, and backed up to the bar. The shirt parted as she boosted herself up onto the closest bar stool, then scooted up onto the bar.

And she hadn’t been lying about not wearing anything underneath. The front panels of the shirt fell open to show her firm breasts with the hard nipples, her flat tummy with the little purple gem in her belly button, the beautiful bare mound at the apex of her thighs, and the smooth tanned lengths of her legs.

Then she lay back on the bar, her hair spilling around her, the shirt falling away from her body as her breasts thrust into the air. He watched, stunned and incredibly turned on as she raised the bottle and tipped the sweet brown liquid out onto her breasts, drizzling it over her stomach and letting it run down between her legs.

The Kahlua painted her skin and soaked into the shirt that lay around her.

And Shane was hit by a sudden, intense thirst. They hadn’t been together in almost two weeks. If Isabelle had her way, they wouldn’t have slept together even then. She’d been trying to break up with him for two months now. She was fine, able to keep him at arm’s length when other people were around, but thankfully he’d gotten her alone in the parking lot at Trudy’s one night and had gotten his lips on hers. That night she’d shown up much like she had tonight.

“I brought enough Kahlua to share,” she said huskily. “Don’t you want some?”

The leg farthest from him was bent at the knee, but the closest hung partially off the edge of the bar, showing him all the delicious rivulets of liquor.

“Maybe a little taste,” he said, moving toward her, his gaze unable to leave hers in spite of the glorious bare body she had laid out on his bar for him.

These were the moments when Isabelle was the most beautiful. Not because she was naked, not because she was turned on, but because there was a confidence in her eyes that he didn’t see often enough.

She came across as confident, there was no doubt, but people didn’t look deep. If they did, like he did, they would have seen that she was acting a good part of the time. She was a notorious flirt, sexy and sweet at the same time, a combination most men found irresistible. But even when she was in the midst of a flirtation, it was superficial and not quite real. She didn’t get the look on her face that she had now with anyone but him. The look that was a combination of mischief and power and I’m-having-a-hell-of-a-good-time.

“Trudy would make a killing if she served her Kahlua like this,” he said, reaching out and running the pad of his finger through the liquor above her belly button and lifting it to his lips.

Isabelle’s stomach jumped at his touch and she squirmed restlessly. “There’s no way in hell I would ever do this with anyone else.”

“I know.” And not just because he’d tear the heart out of anyone who ever got close to her like this. He swirled his finger through the brown liquid between her breasts. God, he loved her breasts and her nipples. He couldn’t wait to pull one into his mouth. Even without the Kahlua it was sweet and made him feel a little dizzy in the head.

“You do?”

He glanced up and saw that she was honestly surprised. He gave her a little grin. “Well, yeah. What did you think? That I was only looking at your ass the whole time I’ve known you?”

“Well no. My breasts too.”

He grinned, tracing his finger up past those beautiful mounds to her mouth. He ran his finger over her bottom lip. “Here’s the thing, babe. You’re never more beautiful than you are when you’re with me. And that’s not conceit that makes me say that, but gratitude. Whatever it is that makes you feel the way you do and act the way you do and look the way you do when I’m around, I just pray every day I can keep it up for the next eighty years or so.”

Her lips parted and her eyes suddenly sparkled with moisture.

He’d stunned her. And he loved it. “Iz? You okay?”

“You keep talking like that and I might want to cuddle all night.”

He bent his head to one nipple, saying as he took it in his mouth, “How ’bout I stop talking all together for a while?”

He sucked the hardened tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the stiff point and relishing her gasp, then groan. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she said breathlessly, “That’s fine. I can do the talking. I want you, Shane. Take me hard right here on the bar.”

Absolutely no argument from him.

He suckled one breast while plucking at the other nipple with his opposite hand. She was squirming against him, moaning his name, when his hand slid from her breast to find the wet heat he craved. But he bumped into her hand.

Lifting his head he looked down her body to find her fingers doing some of the work for him.

She started to move her hand when she realized she was in his way.

“Oh, no, don’t stop on account of me,” he said gruffly.

She paused, but then her hand drifted back, her middle finger stroking over her clit.

“God, that’s pretty,” he said sincerely, glancing up at her face.

Her cheeks were flushed, her breasts moving up and down with her ragged breathing.

“Help me,” she said.

His eyes still on hers, Shane moved his hand past hers to her hot entrance. He knew she’d be wet enough that he could slide right in without hesitation but he wanted to build her up. He ran his finger over the hot folds, then eased the tip of one finger in, stroking shallowly a few times before adding a second finger.

Isabelle’s finger moved faster over her clit and he felt a beckoning pulse in her inner muscles. He pressed deeper with both fingers, stretching her slowly and loving the feel of her body trying to pull him in.

“Like this?” he teased. “Is this what you want?”

“For now,” she said. “But I want you inside me. Soon.”

He pressed his fingers in fully and she gasped.

“What were you saying?” he asked, stroking back out and in with a long stroke that went deep. “This isn’t enough?”

Her eyes were shut and her back arched off the bar. He grinned. Uh-huh. He knew this woman’s body as well as he knew his own. He knew her nipples were the key to getting her hot and wet, he knew that two fingers curled just right would hit a spot that would take her almost to the edge with only a few strokes, and that talking to her while he played with her made her willing to beg.

“Shane—”

He slid his fingers free, her disappointed gasp music to his ears. He waited until her eyes flew open to lift his hand to his mouth and lick his fingers.

“I do love Kahlua,” he told her.

“You—”

“Come on, Iz. A girl doesn’t pour Kahlua in places she
doesn’t
want a guy to taste.” He moved to the end of the bar, leaned to grasp her hips and pulled her down where he could get at her. “After all, everyone knows that Kahlua goes best with cream.”

She barely had time to gasp over his dirty insinuation before he put his mouth between her legs and took a nice, long, hard lick from bottom to top.

He looked up and licked his lips. “Yep. I’m feeling a little intoxicated already.”

She watched his tongue, her hands curling around the edges of the bar on either side of her. Yeah, she better hang on.

He lowered his head again, not intending to lift it for a while. He licked, plunged, sucked and then started over again until she was babbling a bunch of words like “Shane”, “yes”, “more”, and “please” over and over. Finally he returned his fingers to the play, stroking two in deep with the little twist that would take her to the pinnacle. Then he sucked hard on her clit along with the twist and she came apart, crying out, arching up off the bar, her knuckles turning white where she gripped the wood.

Finally she slumped back onto the surface and Shane moved back enough to push his sweatpants to the floor. He’d known it was her when he’d first heard her knock, so he hadn’t bothered with underwear.

This wasn’t his first rodeo with Isabelle.

It wasn’t the first booty call they’d had. Having her show up on his porch in the night wasn’t new.