After Midnight (28 page)

She arched, cupped the back of his head and pressed against his mouth. He slipped his thumb up into her, his fingers along her folds. He pleasured her with his tongue, reveling in her incredible flavor, as he brought her along slowly, prolonging her pleasure as much as his own.

Beneath his hands, her body began to tremble. Any moment now…

He replaced his thumb with his tongue, and she cried out his name.

Every cell in his body burning for her, he stood, unhooked her bra, and eased her down onto the bed. He lowered down beside her.

Eyes luminous, she pushed his hair away from his face, cupped his jaw. “Noah, I can’t…take much more of this.”

He fastened his mouth on one of her breasts, drew in the rigid tip of her nipple and suckled. He used his teeth, his tongue, and his lips to excite, while his hands skimmed over her. “You can,” he answered, nipping his way to her other breast. “Trust me.”

Her back came off the bed. Little sounds slipped up her throat, half whimpers, half sighs, driving him crazy. Leaving her breasts, he trailed higher, up the column of her throat until he found her mouth. Her tongue stroked his, and he wondered if she found her taste as pleasing as he did.

He smoothed his palm along the inside of her thigh, then back to her hip, making sure to brush between her legs in the process. From her hip, he skimmed up her body and cupped her breast, teasing at her nipple with his thumb as he continued to feast on her mouth.

She moved restlessly beneath his hands. A tiny moan slipped up the back of her throat before she tore her mouth from his. Her fingers fought with the button on his jeans. “No more. I want you inside me. Now.”

Now was good.

He left her long enough to remove his jeans and grab a condom. Her legs opened for him in invitation as he moved over her. Her hands smoothed over his chest and held onto his ribs as he braced his weight on one arm and used the other to guide him to her. Christ. The sound she made when he pressed against her entrance nearly sent him over the edge.

He hissed out a breath as her muscles clenched around him. Tight, she was so damn tight. He watched her face as he rocked his hips, slowly thrusting into her, easing his way one slow inch at a time until he was buried to the hilt.

He swore softly and tangled his fingers in her hair. “Are you okay?”

She arched against him, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him deeper. She raised her hands to the sides of his head and brought his face to hers. “Don’t stop,” she whispered against his mouth.

As if he could.

He kissed her long and deep as he moved over her, slowly sliding in and out of her with a rhythm that grew in speed and urgency. Driven by insatiable hunger, he slid deeper. Moved faster. Harder. Her hips moved in time with his, arching up to meet his every stroke.

Reaching up, he removed her hand from his face and positioned her arm over her head. Their fingers linked, her nails bit into the back of his hand as he drove them both higher. A helpless little moan slipped from the back of her throat. Her head rocked back into the pillow as her sheath clamped tightly around him.

The look of her, hair tangled, cheeks flushed, and pale blue eyes dazed and locked with his pushed him over the edge. His vision blurred when her body clenched and convulsed around him. He rode her through it, unable to slow down as he buried his face in her hair and surrendered himself to her.

****

“Welcome back,” Clint called out to Isabeau as she strode through the front door of Izzy’s wheeling her luggage behind her. “Did you have a good trip?”

Exhausted, aching in more places than she ever thought possible, she responded shortly, “Except for that whole ‘death of a loved one’ thing, yeah.” She sidled up to the bar and dropped her tote atop it, then pressed her fingertips against her throbbing temples. “I’m sorry.”

“You know I didn’t—”

“I know,” she assured him. “I’m sorry, Clint. I’m tired, my head is killing me, and I just got off a plane. You know how I feel about planes.”

“I know how you feel about planes.”

Reaching above the bar, Clint pulled down a glass, filled it with ice, and set it before her. With his other hand, he reached into the cooler near his knees and pulled out a can of cola, popping the top and placing it next to her glass.

“You look like you could use the sugar,” he explained. “Actually you look more than tired, you look exhausted. Although there is something else…” He squinted his eyes and stared at her a moment before stepping back. An emotion she hadn’t seen before flashed across his face. “Never mind.”

“He’s in love with you, Isabeau”.
Could it be true?

She didn’t know what to say. She suspected that she did look a little more than tired. After all, she’d spent the entire time she’d been in California making love with Noah. They’d had exactly twenty-four hours together before they’d had to catch their flight back to New York, and they’d used every second of it. Even she couldn’t believe how many times and in how many different ways they’d come together, stopping only when their bodies demanded refueling. She could feel the effect their time together had on her emotions, as well as her body. It was entirely possible that someone looking at her could see it.

By the look on his face, Clint certainly had.

She closed her eyes and sighed, hoping this didn’t make things awkward between them. As the fizz and crackle of cola pouring over ice penetrated, she opened them.

He placed the full glass back down in front of her. “Drink it. There are also a few leftover pieces of the pizza I ordered for lunch in the kitchen. They should still be warm.”

“You’re far too good to me, you know that?”

He smiled.

Slinging her tote back over her shoulder, she stood and picked up the cola. “What’s with the boarded up front window? Kids again?”

“Um, not exactly.”

“What exactly?”

He cleared his throat, then glanced around the bar to make sure no one needed him before he answered. “Someone threw a brick through the window, but it wasn’t kids.”

“How do you know?”

“Because there was a threatening note attached to it.”

A shiver skittered down her spine. “Let me see it.”

“Can’t. I don’t have it anymore. I took the liberty of notifying the police when Pete called to tell me about the window. While I had them here, I told them about everything else, too.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, momentarily confused.

“For one thing, how about the car that tried to run you down?”

Her breathing grew shallow as a ball of fear lodged in her stomach. “I forgot about that.”

“You forgot?” he asked, incredulous. “How the hell do you forget something like that?”

Okay, she didn’t exactly forget. She’d pushed it to the back of her mind where it remained until now. “Who told you about the car?”

“The one with the accent.”

“They all have accents, Clint.” Except Alex.

“I don’t know his name. The one with the long black hair.”

Dominic. Of course. He was the only one she’d told. Absently, she wondered who else he’d felt the need to share his knowledge with.

Shit.

“They want to talk to you.”

“Who?”

“The police.”

Double shit.

Clint turned to the cash register. He pressed his finger to the touch screen, lifted the tray when the cash drawer slid open and removed a business card from beneath. Closing the drawer he faced her again, his hand out in front of him. “Officer Jake Ryan would like you to call him.”

She took the card without looking at it. “I’ll call him tomorrow. I’m getting some sleep first.” She was already in the kitchen, when she thought of one last thing. Stepping back through the swinging door, she called out to Clint who was busy washing glasses at the other end of the bar. “I thought I closed this place before I left.”

“After the brick, I took it upon myself to open back up. I figured it might deter further incidents.”

“Thank you,” she said and meant it. “Remind me to give you a raise.”

She meant that, too.

Finished with the glasses, Clint dried his hands on a towel. “I’ll do that. Now off with you before I get in trouble with the boss for neglecting customers.”

Isabeau smiled and pushed back into the kitchen. Her smile faded once she passed through the door at the top of the stairs and dropped her carry-on luggage in front of the washer/dryer. With no one around to see her, she didn’t have to pretend that fear wasn’t rushing through her veins, making the pounding in her head that much worse. Alone, she could press her hand into her stomach and worry that the instances against her were piling up and the possibility that someone wanted to hurt her, was no longer just a possibility. It was fact.

Shaking with a combination of fear and exhaustion, it took three tries before she got the key inserted into the lock. Pushing into her apartment, she dropped her tote, flipped the deadbolt, then crossed the room to turn on the air conditioner, stripping down to her bra and panties along the way.

On her return trip across the room, she bypassed the bed, easing instead into the corner of her leather couch. She took a slow, deep breath to try to counteract the icy panic that clawed at her stomach. Why would someone want to hurt her? She didn’t understand it. Not any of it.

Dropping her head to the back of the couch, she closed her eyes and pressed unsteady fingers against her temple. When five minutes later her body continued to tremble, the ache in her skull throb, she gave up the idea of rest. After all the time she’d been with Noah, she needed sleep, but she needed something else even more.

Resting her notepad on her lap, she began to compose.

Chapter Thirteen

With the sun hanging low over the sky and the clawing heat of the day ebbing, Noah stood in front of the recording studio, his back propped against the building. His mind wasn’t on the song they were laying down, the sleep he never seemed to get enough of anymore, or even the fact that Alex had been hungover the last three days in a row.

His thoughts were on Isabeau.

Although he’d been with her last night, he wanted her again. Wanted to sit in the same room as her and drink in her beauty. Hold her against his side and absorb her heat, her scent. Forget everything as he lost himself in her.

Suddenly, painfully aroused at the thought of her, he shifted, looking for a more comfortable position where none could be found. All along he’d believed that once he had her, once he sated himself, the ragged edge of desire would ease, allowing him to concentrate on why he’d come to New York in the first place. But if anything, his desire had only grown stronger now that he knew the way her body responded to his touch. The flush that darkened her skin, the bite of her nails on his back and that sexy little whimper that broke from the back of her throat every time he slipped inside her.

Now he knew the sound of her laughter in the dark of night, the weight of her body across his, as they lay tangled together and talked until dawn.

Sighing, Noah admitted he was in trouble. Not because he was like an addict and she was his drug. Not even because he recognized how easy it would be to lose his heart to her.