Chapter Twenty-Two
Chris opened the door, not the least bit surprised to see her standing there.
Isabela, on the other hand, looked caught off guard.
Maybe that he’d answered, but more likely by the state he was in.
Her gaze swept over him, lingering on his disheveled appearance, the dark circles under his eyes, the way his t-shirt clung to his sweat-slicked skin.
He had come home from the meeting, changed, and spent the past hour pounding the trail behind the townhouse. He’d sprinted, trying to clear his head, needing to come up with a plan. All he’d managed to accomplish was a sore back and considerable pit stains.
“What do you want?” he snapped before he could think better of it.
Isabela recoiled, her features tightening at the venom in his voice. “Chris ... I thought you didn’t drink anymore?”
He narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck does that mean? I don’t drink.”
“It’s just, your eyes. They’re bloodshot and...”
A humorless laugh scraped out of his throat. He rubbed the back of his neck and sniffed. It was from crying, but he wouldn’t admit that in a billion years.
“Yeah, well, it’s not from drinking.”
She took a step closer, searching his face like she was trying to read the truth between the lines he wasn’t offering.
She still wore that impossibly fitted skirt that hugged her hips, but the jacket was gone.
The sleeveless silk blouse underneath was the color of champagne and clung to her like a second skin.
He clenched his fists, willing himself not to reach out, not to touch what couldn’t be his.
When she lifted a hand, reaching for him, he backed away fast. If she touched him right now, he wouldn’t be able to keep pretending he didn’t want her.
The pain in her expression cut through him, but she didn’t retreat.
Instead, she stepped through the doorway, shut the door behind her, and faced him with quiet steel.
“Talk to me,” she said softly.
“Why?” he barked. “We’re not friends. I’ve given you everything you need. Anything else you want can be handled over email.”
“Chris, don’t do this.”
He looked away, jaw tight. There were only a few people in the world he cared about. Somehow, she was on that short list. Now, that made her a liability.
“I’m here, so you might as well tell me the truth. What happened in the conference room? You’ve been shutting me out all morning. Is this about me not returning your calls? I’ve been dealing with the accident, and—”
Chris cut her off. “An accident that happened because you’re representing me.”
She shook her head. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
He turned on his heel and stormed into the living room. Soft footsteps hurried behind him. Snatching his phone from the coffee table, he pulled up the photo and shoved the screen at her.
“Found this in my mailbox last night,” he said, voice like gravel. “The cops have it now. So do my lawyers.”
Isabela’s eyes widened, mouth parting in disbelief. She studied the image. It was her leaving his complex, his hand curled around her waist, lips locked in a kiss that wasn’t supposed to happen. Her face crumpled for a second, but then she shook her head defiantly.
“If you cut me out now, they win,” she said, handing his phone back to him.
“Fine. Let them win.” He raised his hands and let them fall to his sides. “There are other lawyers. I’m not worth the risk.”
Isabela raised her chin. “I think that’s my decision.”
She said it like a challenge. Like she wasn’t afraid of what being close to him might cost her. But that only made his anger boil hotter, because she didn’t understand. She didn’t know what he was capable of.
“Nope. It’s mine. I hired you. I can fire you. I think it’s best you leave.” He pointed toward the door.
“No.” She crossed her arms, refusing to budge.
He was at the end of his rope. “You’re too damn smart for this, Isabela. Don’t push me. Just get out.”
She stepped forward and shoved him. “You’re being an idiot, so yeah, I’m gonna push you.”
The shock of contact forced the breath out of his lungs. He stared at her as she’d just cracked through the armor he’d spent days building. Switching tactics, he offered her the truth. Something pathetic enough to surely send her running.
“My niece doesn’t want me around anymore. I embarrass her. And she’s right. You...” His voice broke. “You shouldn’t want me around either.”
Her fury melted into something softer. “Oh, Chris.”
The same hands that had shoved him reached out and touched him. Soft fingers stroked up his forearms. His pulse jumped. Every part of him wanted to lean into that touch. But he unfolded his arms and dropped them to his sides instead, breaking the connection.
“Don’t. Don’t fucking look at me like that. I’m not a charity case. I made mistakes. Big ones. People ended up dead because of them.” He didn’t even care that his voice wobbled as he struggled to get the words out.
“What people?” she asked, brow furrowing. “I only know of one.”
He looked up at the ceiling, struggling to swallow the lump rising in his throat. Then he met her gaze again. “Just go.”
Ignoring his request, again, she stepped closer until they were toe to toe.
Her motions were slow and deliberate, like she was stuck in a zoo enclosure with a wild animal.
Planting herself in the center of his living room, she propped her hands on her hips.
She blocked him from retreating or forcing her out.
“I warned you,” he said low. “Don’t push me. You need to go.”
Isabela didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Her eyes locked onto his, unyielding. It was the trust in those beautiful brown eyes that undid him.
Chris’s voice was rough, frayed at the edges. “This is your last chance, Isabela. Leave now, because my control is hanging on by a thread.”
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The silence between them pulsed, alive with something sharp and dangerous. She could have stepped back, could have left him standing there with all his walls intact. Instead, she tilted her chin, the smallest, most devastating smile curving her lips.
Slowly, she raised her hand and pressed it flat against his chest. The warmth of her palm settled over the thunder of his heart, steady where he wasn’t.
“I’m not leaving,” she whispered.
Chris’s breath shuddered out of him. His hands hovered in the air, trembling with restraint. Then instinct won. He caught her hips, the soft give of her body under his palms shattering something inside him.
“Why are you doing this?” His words rasped against the charged air, his jaw tight with disbelief. “You shouldn’t want this. You shouldn’t want me.”
Her other hand rose, brushing along his jaw, her fingers tender where he was raw. “But I do,” she said simply, like it was the truest thing she’d ever spoken.
That was it. The line he’d been balancing on snapped in half.
Chris yanked her fully into him, arms caging her in as he backed her toward the wall beside the fireplace.
With a thud, the few stock photo frames on the mantel rattled.
His hand threaded through the silk of her hair, tilting her head up, needing to see her eyes one more time before he gave in completely.
Then he did give in, kissing her hard and desperate. All the heat and hunger churning inside him was set free. He was reclaiming something vital, something that felt like it had been his all along. The ache that had lived under his skin since the moment they met was finally being answered.
Her hands moved to his shoulders, curling tight in the fabric of his t-shirt as she kissed him back with just as much intensity.
“I want you so bad,” he said, before claiming her mouth again.
“Chris,” she breathed, voice feather-soft against his lips.
“Tell me what you want, Isabela.”
“Just you.”
He wouldn’t deny her that, he couldn’t if he tried. And he had tried, really damn hard. This wasn’t just about wanting her. He wanted to savor her, not just take. She wasn’t some passing craving. She was a storm, and he’d been standing in the middle of it for two weeks now.
He gently pulled her blouse over her head, revealing a thin white bra underneath. It clung to her, hinting at the curves he couldn’t stop thinking about. He released the clip in her hair, letting it fall in waves around her shoulders. When he ran his fingers through it, she sighed into his touch.
He pushed her more firmly into the wall and she let out a squeak. Shit, her injuries. But when he pulled away, her eyes darted up to his, flaring with lust. He kissed her again, softer this time.
Curious fingers roamed under his shirt, skimming across his back, and he couldn’t help but let out a groan of pleasure. When she tugged at the hem, he helped her pull it over his head and tossed it aside.
While her fingers explored his abs, her mouth found his neck, nipping and licking along his jaw and collarbone. The sensation was dizzying, sending him flying every time her lips touched him. The way she enjoyed his body made him feel invincible. Like there was nothing he couldn’t conquer.
He cupped her face again and searched her eyes. “You’re sure?”
She answered by raising her leg slowly and rubbing her thigh against where he wanted her most.
“Yes.”
Soft gasps and murmurs filled the room as they tore their remaining clothes off.
Chris lifted Isabela and carried her to the couch.
She laughed as they tumbled down together, her joy contagious.
When she straddled him, her chest came level with his mouth and his brain short circuited.
Reaching back, she unhooked her bra and let it slide down her arms with a devious grin.
Chris’s gaze dropped to her breasts, heat darkening his eyes.
He cupped her gently at first, then lowered his mouth, slow and deliberate.
Isabela’s fingers tangled in his hair as her back arched, a soft gasp breaking from her lips.
The sound went straight through him. He lingered, savoring her reaction to every pull of his mouth.
When her hips began to move against him, seeking more, his control frayed.
The tension coiled low and tight, pleasure edging toward something almost unbearable.
Gently lifting her, Chris placed Isabela flat on the couch. His hands traced down the center of her stomach. Lowering his head, his tongue followed the same path. Then an awful little thought occurred.
“I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” he said, his voice rough with restraint. “Don’t move.”
He cast her a stern look that made her giggle, the sound light and breathy. That sound stayed with him as he stood and jogged to the kitchen, heart pounding.
Please let me have a condom in my wallet!
He scanned the countertop for it. There was no chance his sister had stocked the rental with anything helpful.
Rifling through his wallet, he exhaled in relief when his fingers closed around the thin foil square tucked behind a few bills. A little worse for wear, but intact.
When he returned, the sight of her nearly stole the breath from his lungs. She was stretched across the couch in nothing but a pair of panties, light sliding over the curves of her bare skin. Chris raked a hand down his face and held up the condom with a sheepish shrug.
“I don’t even know how old this is,” he admitted, bracing for her hesitation.
Isabela propped herself up on one elbow, her smile slow and inviting as she crooked her finger. “Come here.”
Chris didn’t walk, he ran across the room. He couldn’t stay away another second. Kneeling in front of her, he shivered as her fingers threaded into his hair possessively.
“I’m on the pill. Do we need that?” she asked, voice husky as she tugged him closer. “I mean, if it makes you feel better...”
“Whatever you want, Isabela,” he said honestly. “I’ve been out of the game a while.”
“Me too,” she whispered, tightening her grip to pull him toward her. Their mouths met again, her tongue probing deep. The way she took control, unapologetic and bold, sent a brutal rush through him. He was hard enough to throb, barely holding himself together.
Standing, he stripped off his boxers then settled between her thighs, his body hard and unapologetic. He braced himself over her, muscles flexing, breath already uneven.
She didn’t wait. Her hands slid over his shoulders, down his back, pulling him closer like she had every right to him.
That confidence, that demanding want, had his hips flexing as he entered her in one strong thrust. He lowered his mouth to hers, but there was nothing reverent about this kiss.
It was hungry. Possessive. He took her mouth like he meant to keep it.
Isabela’s nails dug into his skin, sharp enough to make him hiss. She arched beneath him, pressing up, restless, impatient. The friction drew a low groan from his throat before he could stop it.
“Don’t hold back,” she pleaded against his lips.
That was all it took.
He moved harder now, the careful restraint he’d promised himself dissolving under the way she met him thrust for thrust. Every time she rolled her hips, every time she pulled him down to her, he felt it like a spark under his skin.
She wasn’t fragile. She wasn’t hesitant. She was claiming him. And he let her.
Chris gripped her hips, dueling for control, then losing it entirely as their rhythm turned urgent and reckless.
The room filled with breath and broken sounds, the sharp slap of skin, the quiet creak of the couch beneath them.
She said his name again, not soft this time, but desperate.
Chris answered with everything he had left.
When they came undone, it was violent and blinding, the kind of release that left his vision white and his heart slamming against his ribs. He collapsed over her, breath ragged, forehead pressed to the crook of her neck.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then he gathered her in, pulling her tight against his chest, as if letting go even an inch would be a mistake.
Beneath the fading heat, beneath the slowing pulse and the sweat cooling on his skin, a different fear rose up. He could survive prison. He could survive public disgrace. He wasn’t sure he could survive losing her.