“Here?” she whispered.
“Yes.” His voice had dropped an octave. Or three.
He cupped her backside the best he could without the jeans being unbuttoned and unzipped, then slipped his knee between her legs at the same time he pulled her against him. He raised her leg until her sex was pressed against his thigh, setting a rhythm—up fast, down slow, up fast, down slow—that had the knot of denim sewn in the crotch rubbing all the right places. Dipping his face to her neck, he nipped her jawline as he squeezed her ass.
It took a moment for the small part of her mind that was still functioning to realize he’d stopped directing her speed and means of riding his rigid thigh and left her to keep going with the pace he’d established. She faltered a bit at the reality, but he pulled her back into the moment when his mouth found hers, all lips and teeth and demand.
She opened to him willingly, meeting his sexual hunger with her own. She tasted him, reveled in him and demanded more. He gave her what she wanted on a soft groan.
Outside, someone coughed rather delicately. “You’re finding everything you need for your visit, ma’am?”
The saleswoman who helped us. What was her name?
Rachel broke the kiss and tried to put distance between her and Isaac, but he refused to let go of her ass. His eyes shone with twin sparks—one lust, one humor. It was the latter that stopped her, kept her silent.
“We’re fine, Linda. We’ll be out in a moment with her selections.”
Not another word, only the sound of the woman’s footsteps as she hustled away.
“You really are incorrigible,” Rachel chastised. She wiggled and pulled at his arms in her attempt to get away.
He leaned in and nuzzled the sensitive spot just below her ear. “Hearing that in such a school-matron tone is turning me on in ways I’m almost ashamed to admit.”
“Did you go to Catholic school?”
Pulling away just far enough to meet her stare, his eyebrows winged down as he gave a small shake of the head. “No. Why?”
“Because while I’m all for a little role-playing in the bedroom, I amnotputting on a nun’s habit and fulfilling some odd schoolboy fantasy you’ve been harboring all these years.”
The laugh that rumbled out of his chest was rusty but pure, and the look on his face said he was as startled as she was. He coughed and then cleared his throat. “I’ll remember that about the role-playing.”
“But you’re clearly not denying the nun-in-the-habit fantasy.”
“Just keeping the mystery alive.”
She snorted rather indelicately. “We’re so new to each other that it seems there’s more mystery than established fact between us.”
Isaac sobered but didn’t say anything. Instead, he removed his hands from her pants and stepped back, looking her up and down before his attention rested on her eyes. “True,” he said softly. “But mystery’s death most often comes at the hands of truth.” He pulled back the curtain and motioned for her to go first. When she reached the dressing room doorway, though, he shot his arm across her path and stopped her in her tracks. “I’d rather let the mystery live a bit longer than escort it to its deathby laying my sins on the table for your perusal.”
She didn’t know what sins he referred to, but just then the specifics weren’t as significant as the weight of his words. That kind of weight made the listener weary. Whatever truth Isaac carried could be nothing less than life-altering.
Reaching up, she cupped his cheek. The urge to comfort him overwhelmed her, and she didn’t think, didn’toverthink. She simply went with the moment, offering him the first words that came to her. “There’s little anyone can do that cannot be forgiven.”
“Some actions might be forgiven, but they’re never forgotten.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, leaned into her hand and then opened eyes that were bleak in a way she’d never seen them. “Not ever.”
Stepping back into the dressing room, he gathered several items she’d tried on and then walked out, arms loaded with clothes she hadn’t intended to buy. He paused and looked back, clearly fighting to lighten the mood. “Don’t pay attention to my morose side, Rachel. I would’ve left it in New York under lock and key but its keeper was busy. Let’s get you some shoes and blow this Popsicle stand, shall we?”
Rachel didn’t know what to do with the knowledge that wasn’t really knowledge, so she simply nodded. “Sure,” she said softly, following him toward the shoe department because, if nothing else, one thing held true.
Even an unanticipated emotional minefield would be traversed more easily in a good pair of shoes.
CHAPTER TEN
ISAACHADBEENto Dublin often since his company’s European headquarters was in the city, so he had mentally mapped out the places he’d take Rachel. That way she would get the most out of their short visit. To his surprise, however, she had her own ideas. He suggested they take the hired car to see the city.
She insisted they walk.
He suggested they hire a local historian as a tour guide.