7. Hannah Jane
7
HANNAH JANE
“ W hat hurricane truce?” I laughed, clinking the neck of my bottle against his. “Last time I checked, I was the only thing standing between you and a trespassing charge. You’re welcome, by the way. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be stuck in a seedy motel next to the Marine base in Havelock, listening to jarheads have weird sex through paper-thin walls.”
He chuckled and it made his muscular chest jiggle. I needed to stop looking at his pecs. Pull it together, Han.
“Then I guess I owe you a thank you,” he said, tilting his head to look down at me. “Your house is great, by the way.”
I blushed. It was stupid to be intimidated by him, but Isaac was about as rich as they came.
Maddie had told me stories about what he and Luca used to do before Luca settled down and put a ring on her finger.
I wasn’t a stranger to money—Lord knows my family had more than they needed. But there was a difference between old, southern money and “fuck up your mortal enemies for fun” money. He was well past the latter. I didn’t even want to think about the opulence his house was filled with.
“It’s a work in progress,” I said.
“I’m serious—I’d hire you in a heartbeat to stage properties,” he commented, looking around the room. “You’ve got a good eye for design. I mean, I guess you have to, you know—with the whole wedding planning thing. But for real. There are no tacky signs that say Live, Laugh, Love. There’s nothing needlessly labeled in your kitchen. I mean, what is this state’s obsession with putting the boujee version of Comic Sans on every fucking thing? Maddie has a bowl in her house that says bowl. Like, no shit—we all know what a fucking bowl is.”
I laughed so hard I thought for sure I was going to pee myself. Wiping the tears away from my eyes, I quieted down and said, “It’s just what’s trendy these days, I guess.”
“You do have an entire bowl of lemons in your kitchen,” he muttered. “That’s weird.”
“Why is that weird? You’re the one just raving about my design prowess. It adds a pop of color and looks fresh.”
Isaac raised an eyebrow. “You have twenty lemons in a bowl. Who needs that many lemons?”
“At least the bowl isn’t labeled.”
“True.”
I hid my smile behind a handful of popcorn and turned my attention back to Jim and Pam slowly falling in love from behind their desks at Dunder Mifflin. Soulmates .
Apparently, Isaac wasn’t feeling the friends-to-lovers workplace romance because he said, “Kinda surprised you live in a big house when it’s just you. No roommates. No pets…”
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “And?”
He shrugged. “Just making an observation.”
“Sounded more like you were leading the witness.”
“Maybe I’m just curious.” He gave me a casual drop of his shoulders and a look that begged me to humor him. So, I did.
I washed down the popcorn with a sip of water. “I guess I just want to be ready for whenever I meet my soulmate. I want my house to feel like a home so that when things fall into place, there’s no waiting or getting settled—it’s just right, and life can be good.”
Isaac sat quietly for a moment. He swirled around what was left in his bottle before tipping the mouth toward me and finally adding, “Most guys would be scared off by a woman like you.”
It wasn’t the first time I had been told that, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
“I will not water myself down to be more palatable for others. They can just choke on how awesome I am.”
He threw his head back and let out a startling laugh. “You’re something else. You know that?”
I snickered and snatched a kernel of popcorn, tossing it in the air and catching it in my mouth. I gave it two satisfied chomps and grinned. “Don’t act all surprised. I’m a fucking party.”
He chuckled. “Call me crazy, but I didn’t think Miss Hard-ass of Happily Ever Afters would have a one-night stand with her best friend’s best man.”
“You think I’m a prude,” I stated.
He shook his head. “No, you’re a romantic. Nothing wrong with that. Just means you’re not willing to really live because you’re trying to avoid getting your heart broken.”
Well, damn, Isaac Lawson. Look at you—thinking with your brain and not your cock.
I hummed something indifferent and went back to watching the television. I didn’t particularly appreciate being called out like that in my own home. Especially when I very well could have left him stranded in the middle of a hurricane.
“Answer one thing for me.”
I raised a precisely plucked eyebrow and stared a hole into the TV. “You can ask, but we’ll see if I decide to grace your ornery ass with an answer.”
He stifled a laugh. I could feel his eyes on me as he looked down. The low neckline of my nightgown was probably giving him a great view, but I didn’t care.
One, I was as flat as a surfboard. Itty-bitty titty committee, party of one . And two, he had already seen me naked.
He cleared his throat and asked, “Why The Office ?”
“Why not?” I began. “I mean, Pam says it in the finale episode. It’s about finding beauty in ordinary things. Knowing that at any moment, I could meet my soulmate. Look at Jim and Pam: they were just working next to each other and fell in love without the pretense and all the bells and whistles that come with dating these days.”
“So, you’re planning your entire life around the one completely organic moment you meet Mr. Right. How are you going to know it’s him if you don’t ever date around? Love isn’t like the movies, Hell Yes Ma’am.”
Ignoring that stupid nickname, I shrugged. “When you know, you know. I mean, look at Maddie and Luca.”
“Maddie hated Luca,” he corrected.
I rolled my eyes. “Maddie thought she hated Luca. But before he ‘fessed up to who he actually was, it was love at first sight.”
“Do you always have to get the last word in?”
“Only when I’m right.”
“So always?”
“Pretty much.”
“Where do you think you’re gonna meet your perfect match?”
I looked up at Isaac, and he seemed just as surprised that he said that as I was.
Quickly, he added, “If your perfect match is even out there. I mean, uh, does anyone actually have one person that is their other missing half? ”
“I’m not half of a person, Isaac. I’m whole as-is. I just want the person that complements me. Peanut butter and chocolate are perfectly good on their own, but put them together in a Reese’s cup, and they’re a hell of a lot better together.”
“So, where are you gonna find him?”
I looked up at him. “What’s with the third degree?”
He cracked a smile. “What? I can’t make conversation?”
“Interesting line of conversation from someone who is so afraid of commitment that he doesn’t fuck the same girl twice.”
“Harsh words from someone who spends her time planning everyone else’s fairytale endings instead of making her own happen.”
I curled my lip, baring my teeth. “Go fuck a cactus.” I slammed my bottle on the nightstand and added, “You have a lot of nerve, you know that?”
“Yeah, well, having nerves of steel has gotten me pretty damn far in life. What do you have to show for waiting around for the universe to drop your perfect man on your front door with a ring in hand, huh? You’re Maddie’s age, right? Hell, being single at thirty in southern years means you’re well on your way to dying alone.” He clicked his tongue with an insulting tsk-tsk. “Tick-tock, Princess.”
“You can see yourself out,” I snapped, pointing to the door.
“I’m surprised,” he clipped, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “You didn’t strike me as one to back down from a fight. Pity too—we were just getting to the part where I was going to bend you over my knee and give your ass a reminder of who wins these arguments.”
The ego on this man…
“Put your money where your mouth is,” I challenged him. “You talk a big game, Lawson, but you and I both know you’re not going to touch me again.”
Something flashed through his blue eyes. Irritation, maybe. Good—that made two of us .
It transformed into trepidation and, before I knew it, Isaac was setting the popcorn bowl on the nightstand and looking at me with cerulean flames in his eyes.
I wasn’t done running my mouth. “You think you’re hot shit, don’t you? Getting me to sleep with you after Maddie’s wedding. Newsflash: you got me drunk on good champagne and I was horny. It had absolutely nothing to do with you.”
His movements were calm and measured. He didn’t acknowledge a damn thing coming out of my mouth, and it made me as nervous as a cat walking around a swimming pool.
“And you think you’re gonna spank me for not bending to your whims?” I scoffed. “What was that you said earlier? Not my kink.”
“You know what I think?” he finally said after a long stretch of silence. “I think you push me just as much as I push you because you like dealing with someone who doesn’t go running off with his tail between his legs. I think you like being around someone who can push your buttons. You say you want some small-town love with a schmuck who tucks his polo into his khakis to go off to his nine-to-five, but let’s be honest—you’d eat that man for breakfast. He can’t handle you.”
“You don’t even know me,” I hissed.
“I know that if I slid my hand up your slip, you’d be wet for me. Is that what you want to hear? Or maybe I should tell you that I know the only reason you put that damn thing on was to see if I’d give you the time of day.”
I opened my mouth to tell him I wear nice things to bed because it makes me feel good, but he beat me to the punch.
“And I know the next thing you’re going to say is that you wore that for you, isn’t it? Cut the bullshit—you wanted me to notice you.”
“ How dare you, ” I spat. I was charged with hatred, and the electricity had nowhere to go .
We were playing with fire, and he was holding a can of gasoline.
I clenched my thighs together, thankful for the pressure against my pussy as I willed my body to calm the hell down.
Why the absolute fuck did fighting with him turn me into a flighty horn ball, dying to impale myself on the equipment between his legs?
He fingered the hem of my nightie, teasing the middle of my thighs. “You’re much less annoying when you’re mid-orgasm. Maybe I should get you off again just so you’ll shut the hell up.”
I rolled my eyes. “Like I need you to help me get off.”
“Fine then,” he snapped. “Show me. Get yourself off.”
“You’re a pig.”
“And you’re a pussy.”
My mouth gaped open. He was so brash. He was brazen and utterly infuriating. He was— kissing me?
Everything went hazy when Isaac grabbed my waist and manhandled me into his lap, holding my jaw in place with a punishing grip and kissing me hard.
“You don’t need love, Princess,” he said between punishing kisses. “You need to get fucked.” He ripped my négligée over my head and threw it across the room.
Isaac had me sitting in his lap, facing away from him as he leaned against the headboard. I could see the TV, but I couldn’t see his reaction when he brought his hands up and squeezed my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers.
I squirmed and gasped, “Fuck you,” as my body betrayed me and begged for release.
His chuckle was villainous. “Spread your legs, Princess.”
Muscle memory was a bitch. My legs obeyed, even though the logical, non-horny region of my brain told them to stay closed.
Isaac reached down and cupped my sex, leaving the thin fabric of my silk thong between us. “Are you wet for me, Hannah Jane?”
I froze. Something about hearing him use my name was a battering ram to the heart. I needed him to keep up the distance between us.
Slowly, he increased the pressure, edged my panties aside, and slid his middle finger deep into my core. “Hell yes, Ma’am.”
Equilibrium restored. I squirmed in his arms. “Isaac?—”
“Settle down and watch TV.”
I mewled and squeezed my eyes shut as his stupidly talented fingers worked every inch of my pussy.
Clit. Flicked. G-Spot. Stroked. Walls. Filled.
He wrapped his free hand around my middle and pulled me back, forcing me to lay flush against him. There was no escaping him or the release my body was chasing.
“Relax, Princess,” he soothed.
“Kind of hard to when I’m stone-cold sober.”
His fingers stilled inside of me. “Do you want me to stop?”
The walls of my pussy fluttered around his fingers. I whimpered.
Isaac craned his head down and pressed his lips to the side of my neck. His hand skated underneath my breast, just shy of where I craved his touch. “Can I take that as permission to continue?”
I felt the orgasm I so desperately wanted fading away, so I took the only reasonable course of action I could. I nodded.
He doubled down and pumped his fingers, taking care to caress my clit with each pull. I whined, bucking against his hand. His fingers curled inside my pussy, and I saw stars.
I sucked in a sharp breath, stifling the urge to scream in ecstasy, riding the wave for as long as it lasted. I went rigid before I slumped hard against his chest and opened my eyes.
“That was a weak-ass orgasm, Lawson.”
He pinched my nipples, and I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut. “Bullshit. But since you’re still acting like a brat, how about we try again? Double or nothing.”
Another orgasm like that would kill me. “I can’t?— ”
He raised a judgmental eyebrow. “You what?”
Dammit. Mama didn’t raise a quitter. “Fine. But I bet you can’t get me off again.”
“You wanna put your money where your mouth is, Princess?”
Betting against a billionaire? Probably the worst idea I’d ever had, but I was orgasm drunk and thinking with my lady bits. And they wanted another orgasm .
My vagina was a greedy little bitch. One night with Isaac ended my dry spell, and suddenly my body expected dick-induced orgasms left and right. Silicone was no longer an acceptable replacement for the real thing.
“You’re on,” I said as a wicked thought zipped through my brain. I couldn’t help myself. “But it’s good to know that my pussy is good enough to make Isaac Lawson come back for seconds for once in his life. Or is it thirds at this point?”
He chuckled darkly—a warning of what was to come. “I don’t need to give you my dick to make you finish, Princess. This is all about you.”