Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
STEVIE NICKS, “TALK TO ME”
Isaac unlocked our motel room. It wasn’t anything fancy, but I didn’t care because we were in Nashville. He held the door, nodding for me to step inside.
This was happening.
“Two beds.” I dumped my backpack on the end of the bed closest to the window. “I guess you understood me after all.” I tried to hide my nerves with feigned confidence and flirty grins.
Truth?
I was disappointed there were two beds. Even if I didn’t want to have sex, I wanted to sleep next to him.
Isaac set his bag and guitar on the other bed. “I play at nine, so we have time to get lunch and find you something to wear.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” I glanced down at my knee-length denim shorts and Keds.
“We’re in Nashville. I’m playing at a bar, not a nursing home.”
My jaw dropped. “W-what the heck? That’s not nice.”
Isaac lifted a single eyebrow, stepped into the bathroom, and pushed the door, but it didn’t completely shut. He was peeing, which meant he just whipped it out. I could have stepped a little closer and peeked through the crack to see his penis.
“I only have a hundred dollars with me, so I can’t buy anything too expensive,” I said after he flushed the toilet.
“We’ll work something out,” he said, opening the door before fully zipping his jeans. I couldn’t see anything, but I still averted my gaze.
“Uh, working things out feels like you’re suggesting I give you something if I can’t afford the clothes, and that makes me feel like a prostitute, so maybe not phrase it like that.” I wrung my hands out in front of me.
I was so excited to be in Nashville with Isaac, but the reality of leaving my family—lying to them—and being away from home for three days with a hundred dollars in my purse and a man who scared me to death (in a good way) started to sink in.
He shut off the faucet and dried his hands. “I think you’re missing my humor.” Sitting on the end of his bed, he reached for my wrist and pulled me between his spread knees. “I’m going to rest my hands beside me.” He released me and did just that. “And you’re going to touch me wherever you want, however you want. It doesn’t have to be sexual.”
“Why?” I squinted .
“Because you’re eighteen. And your nerves are palpable. We’re in a big city. Your parents aren’t here. And while I love playing with you and bantering with you, I don’t take the responsibility I feel for your well-being lightly. So I need you to trust me implicitly. And I don’t think you can do that if I make you tremble this much.”
I shook my head, clenching my fists. “I’m not trembling.”
He frowned, taking my hand and uncurling my fingers. My hand shook when he released it, so he guided it to his shoulder before returning his hand to the bed.
“Pretend I’m Matty if you have to.”
“I don’t want to think about him,” I murmured, resting my other hand on the opposite shoulder. I ghosted both hands down his arms, letting my fingers trace the lines of his tattoos.
He shivered, and my gaze shot to his.
“Sorry,” he said softly. “You affect me. Or maybe your touch infects me.”
My gaze felt sluggish, like when he got me drunk. I skimmed back up his arms to his neck, then his face, fingers spread wide.
When the pads of my thumbs grazed his lips, he closed his eyes, and he drew in an unsteady breath.
“Are you shaking?” I whispered, feeling a tiny jolt of power.
Did I really have that effect on him?
“Why?” I asked, slipping my fingers into his hair.
“You know why,” he said, opening his eyes.
That was it. That was the problem, the reason my nerves got the best of me. I didn’t know why someone like Isaac would genuinely be interested in an eighteen-year-old who, despite her silver cords, didn’t get into the college she wanted.
“Will you remove your shirt?” I asked.
“No. But you can remove it.” He cocked his head to the side when I hesitated. “Wrap me around that little finger of yours.”
I attempted to roll my eyes, but I couldn’t peel my gaze away from him long enough to make it believable. With no sort of grace, I pulled his shirt up and over his head, dropping it to the floor.
Isaac let his hands fall back to his sides. There was no comparison, but that didn’t stop me from seeing the six-year physical difference between him and Matt. Isaac was bigger and broader, and it did little to keep me from trembling.
I swallowed hard, and that’s when I noticed Isaac doing the same thing as his Adam’s apple bobbed.
Again, he closed his eyes when I pressed my hands to his bare chest. “For the next three days, I need to see you at all times.” He opened his eyes. “If you need to pee, I want to know. If you need a snack, I want to know. If I can’t see you, then you’re not where I need you to be. Understood?”
“You’ll be performing.” I watched his abs tighten under my touch.
“I’ll be watching you,” he said.
Our gazes locked as I paused my hands.
He reclined onto the bed. “Keep touching. When I’m not on that stage, I want your hands on me, like you’re blind and I’m your seeing-eye dog. Reach for me. Touch me. Feel me. Hold on to me.”
I chuckled. “You make it sound like I’m going to get abducted.” I rested my hands on his knees and slid my hands up his legs along the worn denim .
“Look at you, baby. Who wouldn’t want to take you?” He laced his fingers behind his head.
“I think you just want a free massage.” I crawled up his body and straddled his waist.
He lifted a brow before smiling. “I want absolutely anything you’re willing to give me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Twisting my lips, I thought of what I would give him.
“Idle hands must mean you’ve gotten your fill of my body.” He jackknifed to sitting.
I grabbed his arms to keep from falling backward as he shifted my center of gravity.
He stared at my lips, bringing his just inches from mine. “For the next three days, where will you be?”
“Near you.”
He shook his head.
I grinned. “Touching you.”
“Nothing can happen to you on my watch.” He kissed the corner of my mouth.
Isaac took me to lunch and then shopping. I felt like the real deal—a grown woman exploring a new city with a man she had a crush on.
I practiced staying close to him, which wasn’t hard because he usually had ahold of my hand. When he paid for my clothes or sifted through the racks for things he wanted me to try on, I stayed within inches of him and often had my fingers slid into one of his pockets or clasped to one of his belt loops .
Hours later, we returned with bags of clothes, boots, silver bangle bracelets, nail polish (which I rarely wore), and a gorgeous cream cowboy hat.
“What should I wear tonight?” I asked when we stepped into the motel room with my new wardrobe.
“The blue dress.” He tossed his hat aside and collapsed onto the bed.
“Is it okay if I shower first, or do you want to?”
“Have at it,” he mumbled.
I pulled the dress out of the bag, removed the tags, and carried it to the bathroom with my clean underwear and bra.
“What are you doing?” he asked, lifting onto his elbows.
“Um, taking a shower.”
“With your dress?”
“Duh. Of course not.”
“Then leave it out here.”
“Because you want to see me naked?” I squinted.
“I’ve seen you naked.”
“No. You’ve seen me in my underwear and bra.”
“I’ve seen your tits.”
I blushed. Isaac’s bluntness was an adjustment for the girl who never missed church.
“You’ve seen one”—I cleared my throat—“nipple.”
“I bet the other one looks really similar.” He winked.
“You’re a perv.”
“You’re the one who couldn’t keep your hands off me earlier.”
“Shut up!” I laughed.
“Go.” He flopped back down onto the bed. “I’ll see it later.”
“In your dreams.” I closed the bathroom door and locked it .
“Come on, Sunday Morning, where’s the trust?”
I laughed.
After my shower, I emerged from the bathroom in my blue dress and a towel around my head. Isaac was asleep with his hands folded on his chest. I stole a moment to stare at him. He took gorgeous to a whole new level.
I combed out my hair and dried it a second time with the towel. I didn’t have a hairdryer because I shared one with my sisters, and my family thought I was camping where I wouldn’t need one anyway. Sitting next to the nightstand, facing Isaac’s bed, I applied my dark purple nail polish. Just as I finished and capped the bottle, Isaac stirred, stretching his arms above his head and yawning.
“I’m done in the bathroom,” I said.
He squinted, peeling open his eyes as he sat up. “Okay.” He stood and leaned forward.
I didn’t know if he was going to kiss me or what, but I held up my hands. “Don’t touch me; my nails are wet.”
He paused, gaze flitting between my face and hands, and he smirked. “Okay.” Standing straight, he shrugged off his shirt.
“Two okays in a row. I think I like it when you talk less and obey more.” I bit my lower lip to hide my grin.
Isaac unbuttoned his jeans. “Is that so?”
I tried not to stare at him. Instead, I inspected my shiny, wet nails. “Mm-hmm.”
Don’t react.
He removed his jeans. I still didn’t look at him, but I had good peripheral vision. In nothing but his black briefs, he stood with his back to me, digging through his camouflage duffle bag. He pulled out clean briefs and a shirt, and then he set a strip of condoms next to them before pulling out a pair of jeans.
I had a minor heart attack.
We weren’t having sex. I didn’t like sex, and I was perfectly clear about that.
He turned, and it took everything I had to tear my gaze away from the condoms. Isaac's lips remained neutral, but I didn’t miss the amusement and sheer confidence in his dark eyes. His gaze shifted behind him for a second as if he did not know what I was looking at.
“You’re not using those on me,” I said with a frog in my throat when he brought his attention back to me.
“They go on me, not you.”
I shot him a sarcastic look, which I regretted instantly. It fed his need to push my boundaries as he leaned down again.
“Isaac—”
He kissed me, and I had no choice but to let him since I couldn’t stop him with my hands. Well, I didn’t have to kiss him back, but I did.
“Isaac …” I sucked at piecing together a believable protest when he kissed his way down my neck. “My nails …”
“Then don’t touch me,” he said, cupping the back of my neck as he guided me onto my back.
I was helpless while holding my hands away from him and the bed.
He unbuttoned the front of my dress so slowly that I thought my heart thrashing around in my chest might break a few ribs.
“W-what are you”—I was so breathy—“doing?”
“I’m going to make you come.” He slid my bra up my chest, releasing one breast and then the other. When his gaze found mine, he smirked .
Yes, both nipples look similar.
My breath caught when he sucked my nipple into his mouth while his hand squeezed my other breast. With my arms out to the side to protect my nails, I had no choice but to arch my back and let him have his way with me. I squirmed a little more with every kiss, panting tiny breaths.
He stood, gazing through hooded eyes at my dress completely open and my breasts on full display. I couldn't read his expression, but he focused intently, as if the wheels were spinning. And that thingy in his briefs was huge and stiff-looking.
Grabbing the back of my knees, he guided my feet to the edge of the bed and skated his calloused hands along my legs to the waist of my underwear, bringing his gaze to mine, silently requesting permission.
Nope.
I couldn’t let him take off my underwear in broad daylight and stare at my girly parts, spread wide for his inspection.
I rolled my head from side to side.
He twisted his lips, and then he wet them while bending down to kiss me again.
An all-consuming kiss with one hand on the mattress next to my head and his other hand on my hip, inching its way between my legs, fingertips teasing me over my underwear.
Why did I paint my nails? I felt bound to the bed unless I wanted to ruin the polish. Isaac knew what he was doing. And he did it so very well. He hooked two fingers into the crotch and pulled the cotton aside.
“Oh God …” I jumped, breaking the kiss.
My mind reeled. I was using the Lord’s name in vain, but I couldn’t focus on asking for forgiveness yet, so I added it to the long mental list of things I’d need to pray about later.
Isaac’s lips twitched as his face hovered over mine, watching me lose my ever-loving mind. He took his time like his fingers needed the lay of the land, and every second was delicious torture.
He said nothing, content watching me react to his touch. When his fingers grazed my clit, it made my hips jerk, and my eyelids felt heavy.
“Fuck … I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” he whispered, slowly pushing a finger inside me.
My breaths fell from my lips like they did twenty minutes into a cardio workout.
He pulled it out and nearly made me orgasm by rubbing my clit, but then he slid inside of me again, but this time, it was two fingers.
After I released a moan, his mouth crashed to mine like he was teetering on the edge of control. With his two fingers sliding in and out of me and the pad of his thumb rubbing my clit, I orgasmed. My heels dug into the mattress to lift my pelvis, grinding into his hand as my mouth fell open and my neck twisted to the side.
My blurry vision refocused, landing on my pretty nails, which survived without a smudge. Before I could formulate a coherent thought that didn’t involve how shocked I was that my nails were safe, Isaac had my bra back in its place and was buttoning my dress.
The patience he showed while piecing me back together made my heart ache. I agreed to the trip to fulfill one of my dreams of visiting Nashville. Falling for my boyfriend’s brother wasn’t part of the plan.
Ex-boyfriend .
Pressing the heels of my hands to the mattress, I sat up as he finished the last button, and I stared at the strip of condoms on his bed by the bag. This time, he didn’t need to follow my gaze to see what had ensnared my attention.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said, indirectly answering the question on my mind.
“If you want”—I dug my teeth into my lower lip for a few seconds—“I mean, it’s not fair that?—”
“Sarah, I’m not having sex with you because you feel obligated to return the favor. I’ll sneak a cigarette later and call it good.” The door clicked shut.