It Takes Two (6 page)

Covering herself in liquor on top of his bar was.

He really loved that spontaneous, naughty, creative side of her.

He climbed up onto the stool at the end of the bar and pulled Isabelle around, sliding her from the bar onto his lap.

They were both clean and monogamous and Isabelle had been on the pill for a couple of years now, so they didn’t need to worry about condoms. She straddled his lap and immediately sank down on his aching cock.

“God, yes,” he hissed as he buried himself to the hilt. “I’ve missed you so damned bad, Iz.”

One hand rested on her hip and he threaded the other into her hair, cupping the back of her head in his palm. He brought her in for a hot kiss as she wiggled her feet up onto the top rung of the stool. Breaking the kiss, she leaned back, putting her elbows on the edge of the bar.

“How about this?” she asked, using her legs and arms to raise and then lower herself on him.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, gripping her hips. “Damn, Iz. Yes.”

The view was spectacular, the sensations indescribable. Watching her body take him over and over while he felt the tight hot sheath milking him had him racing toward his climax far too soon.

Reaching between them, his thumb found her clit as he reached up to roll a nipple between his thumb and finger.

Isabelle’s head fell back, her hair falling to the bar behind her as she picked up the pace.

Then Shane really had to hold on to avoid getting to the end without her. She looked gorgeous, completely open and free, taking what she wanted and reveling in it even as she offered her body up to him for his pleasure.

“Isabelle, come for me, baby,” he urged as his body tightened. “You’re driving me crazy. I want you there with me.” He grabbed both her hips, bringing her down harder each time, his hips lifting to thrust deep and firm and fast.

Her hands went to his shoulders, her fingers digging into his muscles as she gasped. “Yes, god, Shane, yes.”

Moments later her muscles clenched hard and she cried out, her orgasm crashing over her and pulling Shane’s from him. He pressed her hips down tightly, holding her against him, wanting her to feel the hot wave and throbbing of his climax. It was all about her. He wanted her to feel every bit of it while he celebrated what he could do to her body. What they could do to each other.

It had never been like this with anyone else and it was like this with Isabelle every time.

She finally slumped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her breasts into his chest. “Wow. I can’t believe I went two weeks without that.”

He cupped her butt in his hands and buried his nose in her hair. “Babe, if that is vanilla sex, I’ve been eating all the wrong flavors up ’til now.”

She pulled back to look at him. And she wasn’t smiling.

Well, that wasn’t a good sign.

She chewed on her lips for a moment, watching him. Then she pushed her hair back from her face with both hands, and extricated herself from his lap, sliding to the floor and reaching for the shirt that was still spread out on the bar.

It was wet and sticky but she shrugged into it and buttoned it up as she turned to face him.

“I need to tell you something.”

Oh, boy. He did
not
like the feeling of trepidation her words brought on.

He slid off the stool. “I think I might need pants for this conversation.”

She bent to snag his sweats off the floor and tossed them to him.

Once he was covered, he propped his hands on his hips. “What do you need to tell me?”

She wet her bottom lip and his nerves kicked up another notch as she acted nervous.

“Iz,” he prompted.

She took a deep breath and he worked on breathing and
not
grabbing her and shaking it out of her.

Finally she looked up at the ceiling and blew out the breath, then she met his gaze directly, spread her arms wide and said, “Shane, I…knit.”

Chapter Three

Isabelle watched Shane’s expression change from one of unease to confusion.

“I don’t know what that means,” he finally said.

She sighed and pushed a hand through her hair. This wasn’t how she should have done this whole thing. This wasn’t how she’d
planned
to do this whole thing.

She’d been fine. She’d been down to one booty call a week. Then she’d snuck into that closet with him and he’d gotten his hands on her and they’d talked about sex. Sure, they’d talked about vanilla sex, but still…she’d been tingling ever since.

Even alone time in a broom closet was too much alone time to keep her head on straight. Dammit.

On her way home from Trudy’s, she’d decided she needed to get away. She was too befuddled here, surrounded by bad choices that were
so
tempting. She needed some peace and quiet far from Shane’s influence. Somewhere he couldn’t find her and make her forget all her good intentions. She’d decided to take her boss up on his standing offer for her to use his cabin in the Black Hills. It was eight hours away from Shane and Omaha. There was a hot tub and a workout room and a wine cellar. All she needed.

And she was taking all of the books about fibromyalgia that she’d bought right after that first doctor’s appointment with her. It was time to get a handle on this thing. She was done with the denial. She was done with the lying.

Right after she had one more taste of him. One more bite of the most amazingly rich and sinful cheesecake she’d ever had. Of course, what they’d just done was kind of like eating half the cheesecake without even coming up for a breath.

Still, the plan had been to climb right back in her car and go home afterward.

Not to confess everything. Not tonight.

But now the words were out there. Well, some of the words anyway. She wasn’t ready—
he
wasn’t ready—for her to tell him
everything
. The knitting would be enough to start with, like an appetizer to the whole seven-course what-the-hell-have-I-gotten-into-here meal she was going to eventually serve him.

“It means that I like to sit at home on the couch and knit.”

“Knit?” he repeated. “Like with yarn?”

She found herself actually smiling. Was he trying to rack his brain for a sex act that was referred to as knitting? “Yes, with yarn.”

“And this is important somehow,” he said, more as a statement than a question.

She stared at him. “Well…yeah.”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I get it.”

“I also bake. From scratch. And I decoupage and scrapbook and I’m in love with the show
Firefly
and I…knit.” She ended with a shrug. That was a pretty good list to start with.

He blinked at her.

“Did you hear me?” she asked.

“Yeah. I’m thinking about how much I like brownies from scratch.”

“No you’re not.”

“Okay, I’m thinking I have no idea what decofage is.”

“Decoupage.”

“Still have no idea.”

“It’s taking pictures and applying them to—” She shook her head. “Never mind. That’s not the point.”

“Okay,” Shane said, relaxing his stance. “You have some hobbies.”

“Yeah.
Boring
hobbies. Really boring.”

“Hey, I love brownies.”

She took a step toward him, needing him to honestly hear her. In her mind, she’d planned to have a few relaxing days at the cabin away from Shane and his influence over her, to learn what she needed to know and put a plan into place about the changes she was going to make. She was going to be strong and sure and fully knowledgeable by the time she came back and sat down to have a mature, serious conversation about what they both wanted and needed from life and this relationship.

But if he was going to freak out about the knitting—the
actual
knitting—right now, then she could use the time at the cabin to nurse her broken heart. And drink a boatload of wine.

Maybe scaring him off now was the easiest thing.

“My hobbies are solitary hobbies, Shane. And quiet.
Really
quiet hobbies.” She watched him carefully. He hadn’t flinched. Yet.

“Okay.”

“Hobbies where I actually sit still for long periods of time.”

He swallowed hard.

“Without talking. I don’t even turn on music a lot of the time. I often like to sit with no noise at all.”

She could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek.

Sitting still and quietly was
not
Shane’s style.

“And I like to be alone.”

And there was the flinch she’d been waiting for.

She spun away and started for the door. “It’s not going to work with us, Shane. And it’s time you knew that. I’m sorry I’ve been leading you on—”

Her words were interrupted by him grabbing her arm and spinning her back to face him. “Just wait a fucking minute,” he said, clearly annoyed. “Give me a fucking minute to process stuff, Iz.”

She pulled her arm from his grasp. “You’re not exactly the decoupage kind of guy.”

He rubbed his hand over his face. “Yeah. Not even knowing what it is, I’m guessing you’re right.”

“You’re not the peaceful, quiet, still type at all.”

He nodded. “Right. But if you want to do something new together, we could go to the shooting range or to that new bar with the dueling pianos or…” His eyes lit up and he reached for her again. “Let’s take a trip. How about Disney World? I’d
love
to go to Disney World.”

She stared up at him torn between laughing at his clear excitement over the idea and growling in frustration. “I know you would.” She shrugged away from his touch again. “That’s the point.”

“You wouldn’t like Disney?” he asked. “Seriously? Who wouldn’t want to go to Disney World?”

Disney World was
exactly
the kind of place Shane would love. Constant noise and action and people everywhere.

“I would like it because I would be with you
and
you
would like it,” she said. “But I think maybe we need to find something you’ll love to do with me that
I
like.”

He opened his mouth to reply and she said quickly, “Besides sex.”

His mouth closed and he frowned. “With you? Like you’re on the couch doing…whatever…and I’m…”

“On the couch beside me,” she filled in for him, working on not smiling. This was not funny. But watching him try not to squirm kind of was. “Maybe model airplanes would be fun.”

He didn’t react but she could tell he was fighting the urge to grimace. “I’ve never done model planes.”

Wow, what a shocker. “Or jigsaw puzzles,” she suggested brightly. “You could start small with like a thousand pieces.”

“A
thousand-
piece
puzzle
?” he repeated.

“Sure. You can work up to the five-thousand-piece ones.”

She could see his mind spinning, imagining sitting still long enough to put one thousand tiny shapes together to make a picture of a mountain scene or a field of flowers. She bit her lip to keep from laughing. She couldn’t imagine it either.

But his panic over doing something quiet and still wasn’t funny. It was the reason that he wouldn’t last twenty-four hours with her in her real world.

“Um, I was thinking—”

“Crosswords?” she asked. “Yeah, that might be better. Or Sudoku.”

“No.” Finally, he breathed. “Iz, none of those things are me.”

And reality crashed in—for both of them.

“Babe, I’m—”

“I know,” she snapped. “I
know
those aren’t you. That’s the point. They are me, though. You’d rather be yelling at a game or rodeo or tractor pull.” She crossed her arms. “And I don’t even understand that last one. No one can hear you over the stupid tractors anyway and it’s not like it matters who wins. I mean it’s not like there’s a Great Tractor Pull Off and—”

She realized she was ranting about tractors and stopped.

Shane was looking at her with one eyebrow up.

She took a deep breath. “I bet you wouldn’t last even three days at the cabin.”

“Cabin?”

Ah, crap. She hadn’t meant to say that. She grimaced. “A cabin. You wouldn’t last three days at
a
cabin.”

He wasn’t buying that. “Why are we talking about random cabins?”

“It was an example of a quiet, peaceful place that you would hate.”

“Isabelle,” he said, watching her closely. “What cabin are you talking about?”

She sighed. “The cabin I’m going to the day after tomorrow.”

“Why are you going to a cabin?”

“For…a retreat.” Kind of. “It’s my boss’s cabin.”

“Where’s the cabin?”

“The Black Hills.”

“You’re flying out to Rapid City?” he asked.

“Driving.” She knew immediately that she’d messed up. But she did try to keep the lying to the bare minimum necessary.

“With a bunch of people from work?”

She should just say yes. She knew where this was going. But she couldn’t. “No, alone.”