Chapter 43 Isaac
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
isaac
Tomorrow Elena Ortega is going to marry me at her cousin’s house in Santa Fe.
We got a certificate, and I have a ring burning a hole in my pocket. It feels like a clock is ticking in my head. I have one hundred and eighty days to prove to her this should be real. Not temporary.
Tonight, we’re having dinner with my family to go over our travel plans and so I can keep Wyatt up to date on the work that I’ll need someone to cover while I’m gone.
I knock once on Elena’s cabin door, then try the handle.
It’s not locked.
“Elena?” I call out gently, tucking the paper sack of snacks under my arm. “Brought you your weird sparkling water and those fancy crackers and dark chocolate covered almonds you asked for.”
And a ring I hope you’ll wear for the rest of our lives.
No answer. Just the sound of water cutting off and the soft scuffle of bare feet on tile.
She’s getting out of the shower.
I almost turn back. Give her some privacy.
Almost.
But the light’s low, the air smells like cinnamon and citrus and her, so I hang out in the living room and wait.
I spot a notebook sitting open on the kitchen counter. Small with spiral-bound pages bent and weathered like it’s been shoved into bags and sat on a few times too many.
I take a peek. Just to see if there’s anything on her to-do list I can help with. She’s always carrying more than she needs to. And I know her well enough to know she won’t ask for help, even if she needs it.
I tilt my head, expecting bullet points—call times, script notes, maybe something like “eat lunch” if she’s feeling particularly rebellious.
Instead, I read:
3 Real Things
1. The way the air smells after it rains on the ranch
2. The way Isaac Logan looks at me.
3. I’m growing a human. A real, actual human.
I blink.
And read it again.
My throat goes dry.
It’s dated today.
I flip through a few more pages. They’re all the same but with different lists. One of my favorites is the one that reads 1. My favorite black lace thong is missing. 2. Isaac Logan is too handsome for his own good (and mine). 3. My period is late.
Perusing them, one glaring fact becomes clear to me.
In every single list since the night we met, I’m at least one of her three real things. If not directly, at least the consequences of my actions.
The bathroom door creaks behind me, and I step away from the notebook so fast the sack of snacks nearly slips from under my arm. I set it on the nearby end table.
Elena’s in nothing but a towel—hair damp, cheeks pink, water beading along the curve of her shoulder.
She comes to stand in front of me with a soft, “Hey.”
I sink to one knee before I even realize I’ve moved.
“What are you doing?” she asks, startled.
“Worshipping you,” I murmur, letting my hands push her towel open at the overlap. “Checking on my little peanut.”
There’s not even really a bump, or the slightest protrusion of soft skin above her hips. I kiss her belly softly anyway. Gooseflesh spreads across her skin and I fucking love that I have that effect on her.
“Your peanut is fine,” she says with a breathy smile. “Promise.”
“I know. But I needed a reason to get on my knees.”
I retrieve the ring box from my pocket and offer it to her. “I got you this. It’s real, I promise.”
She glances down, one arm tightening the towel across her chest. “Isaac…”
“Take it, spitfire. It’s yours for as long as you want it.”
Just like my heart, body, and fucking soul.
She slips it on her finger, and I hear it. The soft little sigh that isn’t from being tired. Her eyes are filling with tears, or maybe just mine are. “It’s beautiful. Isaac you shouldn’t have spent so much on a fake—” I stop her with my mouth against her soft, bare pussy. Kiss it gently. Then firmer. “Tell me to stop if you want me to stop,” I tell her, pushing the towel further out of my way for better access. Her hands rake through my hair, and I take that as a signal to keep going. When my tongue slides through the seam of her, she moans. Fuck yes. My girl is going to marry me and I’m going to spend every damn day of six months reminding her why we should stay married. “Can I sit?” Her voice is small, needy. “I’m a little tired from the hot shower.” I stand, then lift her in my arms and put her gently on the couch behind us. I press my palm gently to the lower part of her belly. She exhales shakily, a hand falling to cover mine. Her eyes land on something beside me. The table where I left her notebook open. “Did you look at my notebook?” “You mean you’re I heart Isaac Logan forever fan book?” She shakes her head but she’s smiling. “You weren’t supposed to see—” “Sweetheart,” I interrupt, leaning down and placing a kiss just above her mound. “There’s no use pretending with me. Save it for work.” She sucks in an audible breath. “It helps me not disappear. To stay grounded in who I am and what I feel.” “How about I help you feel something right now,” I say, hearing the commanding tone my voice has taken. I massage her inner thighs with both hands, working my way inward. The scent of her arousal combined with her bodywash or lotion or whatever it is nearly overtakes me. Memories of our first night together hit me so hard my cock threatens to punch its way out of my jeans. “I worry I’ll lose myself if I don’t keep writing things down. That the real me will fade away, become invisible,” she admits softly, spreading her legs wider and letting her towel fall away from her body. “You don’t have to worry about that, baby. You will never be invisible. Not to me. Not to anyone.” I kiss her exposed nipples then because I can’t help myself. I scrape my teeth against them, sucking each one until she cries out in a pained sound of pleasure. “I do worry about it,” she says breathlessly as I kiss my way down her torso to her now-throbbing clit. Her body convulses when I suck it into my mouth. She grips my chin with surprising strength to pause my ministrations. “I’ve worked so hard for this career, and I want this baby, and I’m scared.” Those fucking eyes of hers. They will be the death of me. When I see the vulnerability flashing in them, I want to give her every single thing I have. I want to tell her here and now what Ivy said I should. “I’ve got you, spitfire.” I stare into the warm darkness of her gaze. “Let me show you that I can have your back. Just a little. You don’t have to give anything up. You don’t have to disappear, and you sure as hell don’t have to do this alone.” She nods briskly. Says in a soft whisper, “Okay. Show me.” I fully intend to. In every way she’ll let me. For the rest of my fucking life. And then she’s reaching for me, pulling me to her. We make quick work of removing my clothes as efficiently as possible. I kiss, lick, and suck every inch of her flesh I can. She writhes and whimpers. Pleads with me to give her what she needs until I tongue-and-finger-fuck her through her first orgasm. When I reach for a condom from my jeans, she pulls a face. “It’s not like I can get more pregnant.” I drop it on the table. “I’ve been tested. Recently. And I’ve never not used a condom.” She nods. “Me too. And I trust you.” My fucking heart might burst in my chest. Because I know what it takes for this woman to trust and it’s an honor I don’t take lightly. I trust you. It plays on a loop in my head. She spreads wide for me, and I slide my bare cock inside her heat. Fuuuuck. I groan in pleasure as I sink all the way inside her, until her body blocks me from going any farther. I’m ruined. Fucking ruined forever because nothing and no one will ever feel like this woman, who was made for me. I can’t even bring myself to be concerned about this because her pussy is gripping and clenching me so tightly, trying to pull me further in than her body will allow. “Come inside me,” she pants. “I want to feel it. I want to feel all of you.” Everything I’ve been holding back snaps like reins yanked too tight. I lift her leg and prop her foot on the back of the couch so I can drive into her deeper. “Take all of me, baby. Like a good girl. Or I’ll make you beg me to let you come.” “Fuck,” she hisses. She bites her lower lip then smiles up at me and I see it. The trust. The need. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” I let loose a string of filthy sentiments about her tight greedy pussy and she comes, fast and hard. The tight clench of her internal muscles and the deep mewling sound telling me she’s lost in it. She’s not the only one. I’m in trouble. Deep trouble. Because now that I’ve taken her bare, I’m addicted. Her body trembles, small quivers after the aftershocks of her orgasm that pull mine from me. We both cry out when my release shoots deep inside her body. I roll us so she’s on top of me, so I don’t crush her. She kisses me like she’s ravenous for my skin, my lips, my jaw line, my neck. I grin at her and jerk my chin toward her notebook. “You can add ‘Isaac Logan is insanely obsessed with me’ to your list. Along with, I am the hottest fuck of his life ever and always will be.” She laughs lightly, then rests her head on my chest. “I’ll get right on that. As soon as I can move.” Whatever is happening to me, it feels like falling. Like jumping out of plane going a million miles an hour. I just hope like hell when I crash to the ground, she and I land in the same place.