His hands slid down again, reaching for the button of her jeans, and she could feel the way his fingers trembled against the bare skin of her stomach. He whispered her name, asking for permission, maybe, but she wouldn’t give it to him. She wouldn’t ask for this.
In the end, he didn’t wait for her word. His hand slid inside her jeans and into her panties, and she was soaked and slick beneath his fingers. “Oh, fuck, Isabelle.”
She nodded as another tear dropped to her hand. She put that hand over his and moved him lower until he could curl his fingers into her.
She didn’t say yes, but she moaned and ground her ass tighter to his cock.
Tom cursed beneath his breath, and for a moment she was worried he’d stop, but he didn’t stop. He drew his hand free and pulled down her jeans with two vicious tugs that left her skin feeling raw. She heard his zipper open. Heard the crumpling sound of a condom wrapper. She reached behind her and found his hip as she shifted her feet back and watched his stance spread wider behind hers. His cock rubbed against her aching pussy. Isabelle held tight to the ladder and arched back to tilt her hips higher.
He pushed slowly into her, stretching her carefully, trying not to hurt her. Didn’t he know she was hurt already?
She dug her fingers into his hip and pressed her ass back hard, and he sank deep into her, setting off exactly the ache she wanted. But he was still too careful. Still trying to read her. His hand rose to her neck, fingers spreading gently up her jaw to her tear-wet face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Isabelle, please...”
She turned her head and bit his wrist, making him hiss and jerk away from her. “I hate you,” she growled as she pulled his hips back to her and sank his cock deep again. “I hate you.”
“Goddamn it, Isabelle,” he said, but he finally gave her what she wanted. He fucked her. Hard. No sweet words or caresses or care. He sank his cock into her over and over as her hands went tighter and tighter on the ladder.
His hands joined hers, gripping the wood just above her hands, and he pounded into her. She focused on those lovely hands, his knuckles turning white, tan skin and golden hair disappearing beneath the white cuff of his dress shirt. She watched the tendons strain beneath his skin, and she took his cock, and it was exactly what her body wanted.
The anger and lust built inside her until she couldn’t take it anymore. “Come,” she ordered, the power of it intoxicating. The power of making him want her past all his good intentions and morals and guilty feelings. “Come for me,” she moaned.
This time he didn’t hold himself still. There was nothing subtle about this. His thrusts grew short and brutal and fast, and then he grunted against her neck, his breath hot and heavy on her skin as he came.
Every muscle in her body trembled. Her pussy ached. Her forehead hurt where she’d scraped it on the wood.
His breath calmed a little. He loosened one hand from its hold and slid it down her shoulder. “Let me make you come,” he whispered, his fingers trailing down her stomach.
“No,” she said, straightening until his cock was free of her, one last, long slide of unexpected pleasure. “I don’t want to.”
“What?”
She tugged up her jeans and swiped at the tears on her face. “I don’t want to come.” Not with him here. Later, when she was al
one, she’d think of this and get off, but she couldn’t do it in front of him. Not now.
“Isabelle—” But she ducked under his arm and left him there. He followed her to the bedroom a minute later. “If you didn’t want—”
“I wanted it,” she said tersely. “But I don’t want to come for you.”
He looked hurt and confused, as if she’d slapped him hard. She tipped her head toward the package under his arm. “You have the gun. You can go now.”
“Jesus,” he breathed.
“I don’t want to see you again,” she said.
He stared for a long moment before he seemed to snap from his shock. He stood a little straighter and wiped the confusion from his face. “We’ll need statements and—”
“Then send Mary to talk to me. Or someone else. Just not you.”
He looked around, his gaze jumping over the room before he shook his head. “It might not be safe for the next twenty-four hours or so. Gates won’t know—”
“I’ll stay with Lauren,” she said. “Sophie’s there, too. I’ll be fine.”
He opened his mouth then closed it. Finally, he took a deep breath and shook his head. “All right. If that’s the way you need it to be. But this isn’t what I want. All of this...” He waved a hand toward her sad, rumpled bed. “All of this was...”
“Goodbye, Tom.”