him, not so lightly, in the chest. “You get my drift?”
Did he get it? How the hell could he miss it? Vic just told Peter he’d kick his ass if he hurt Isabelle.
And he hadn’t shagged her. Peter’s buzzing pulse quieted and an honest burst of laughter popped out. Relief maybe, because for a few seconds he’d been terrified Vic would tell him Izzy had been the best fuck of his life. Or vice versa.
Don’t go there.
Peter didn’t want to think about Izzy with anyone else. Primitive, yes, but oh well. He popped Vic on the arm. “I get your drift. No worries. It’s under control. You flaming asshole.”
“Well, this looks interesting,” Izzy said, tossing her purse—if that little beaded thing could be considered a purse—on the table.
Vic’s eyebrows headed to the sky and they both cracked up.
Chapter Thirteen
Peter got out of the Challenger and focused on the empty space in Izzy’s driveway where Kendrick’s car had been. Gone. Good. The warm ocean air slipped over him and he drew in the salty smell. Gentle breaking waves sounded from behind the house and he made a mental note to check the charts for high tide.
He opened the car door and watched Izzy’s dress ride up her thighs when she slid out.
Yow.
Instant hard-on.
It didn’t help when she dragged her hand across his stomach and scooted by him. Throw in the eyes and pouty lips and he was done. Cooked.
He suddenly found himself praying Creepy Izzy had gone on sabbatical for the night.
The gravel driveway crunched under their feet and he marveled at her ability to balance on the fuck-me heels. His hand grew a mind of its own and skimmed her bare back while a jolt of heat blasted him.
They stopped on the dimly lit porch while she shoved the key in the lock with one hand and reached back to touch him with the other. Truth be told, she was probably aiming for his hip, but nailed an eager Monk Junior instead.
Helloooo, baby.
“Oh, my.” She turned, hooked her hand around the back of his head and pulled him in for a mind-melting kiss.
And, oh yes, a good shagging was definitely the order of the day. Particularly because he’d been thinking about it nonstop from the moment he saw her. How much waiting could a guy take? He flattened his hands against the door and leaned into her, the heat of her body nearly scorching his.
“Ow,” she said.
He jumped back, but she pulled him close again. “The key stuck me.”
Peter heard the lock tumble. She must have turned it with her free hand, because the door opened and the inside light she’d left on washed over them.
Izzy threw her arms around his neck, pressed against him and slammed her tongue into his mouth. Demanding and hot. His breath caught and he couldn’t release it. Thank you, Jesus. He’d never known anything better than this kiss.
He backed her through the doorway, kicked the door closed behind them and shoved her against the wall. Her slinky hair flew around her face and her chest heaved with each breath. When she slid her leg around his and gave him a wicked-ass grin, every bit of self-control crumbled.
That’s it. She was going to get it. Right here. Right now. Fuck off, Creepy Izzy.
A beep echoed in his head.
What was that?
“The alarm,” he said.
“Who cares?” Izzy was clearly riding the same euphoric wave because she started clawing at his shirt buttons.
He reached behind him to the keypad by the door. Couldn’t reach. Dammit.
“Iz, the alarm will go off in about five seconds. Just let me…”
WHAAAAAAAA!
Too late. The shrieking wail of the alarm permeated the house, but Izzy didn’t seem to hear it. She now had his shirt unbuttoned and his T-shirt pushed up.
Those lush lips trailed kisses across his chest and his body went ballistic. Seriously fucking insane.
He had to get that alarm off, but moving would be a freaking tragedy.
With one arm around her, he dragged her with him to the keypad and punched in the code. Silence shrouded the house.
“Good.
Did he get it? How the hell could he miss it? Vic just told Peter he’d kick his ass if he hurt Isabelle.
And he hadn’t shagged her. Peter’s buzzing pulse quieted and an honest burst of laughter popped out. Relief maybe, because for a few seconds he’d been terrified Vic would tell him Izzy had been the best fuck of his life. Or vice versa.
Don’t go there.
Peter didn’t want to think about Izzy with anyone else. Primitive, yes, but oh well. He popped Vic on the arm. “I get your drift. No worries. It’s under control. You flaming asshole.”
“Well, this looks interesting,” Izzy said, tossing her purse—if that little beaded thing could be considered a purse—on the table.
Vic’s eyebrows headed to the sky and they both cracked up.
Chapter Thirteen
Peter got out of the Challenger and focused on the empty space in Izzy’s driveway where Kendrick’s car had been. Gone. Good. The warm ocean air slipped over him and he drew in the salty smell. Gentle breaking waves sounded from behind the house and he made a mental note to check the charts for high tide.
He opened the car door and watched Izzy’s dress ride up her thighs when she slid out.
Yow.
Instant hard-on.
It didn’t help when she dragged her hand across his stomach and scooted by him. Throw in the eyes and pouty lips and he was done. Cooked.
He suddenly found himself praying Creepy Izzy had gone on sabbatical for the night.
The gravel driveway crunched under their feet and he marveled at her ability to balance on the fuck-me heels. His hand grew a mind of its own and skimmed her bare back while a jolt of heat blasted him.
They stopped on the dimly lit porch while she shoved the key in the lock with one hand and reached back to touch him with the other. Truth be told, she was probably aiming for his hip, but nailed an eager Monk Junior instead.
Helloooo, baby.
“Oh, my.” She turned, hooked her hand around the back of his head and pulled him in for a mind-melting kiss.
And, oh yes, a good shagging was definitely the order of the day. Particularly because he’d been thinking about it nonstop from the moment he saw her. How much waiting could a guy take? He flattened his hands against the door and leaned into her, the heat of her body nearly scorching his.
“Ow,” she said.
He jumped back, but she pulled him close again. “The key stuck me.”
Peter heard the lock tumble. She must have turned it with her free hand, because the door opened and the inside light she’d left on washed over them.
Izzy threw her arms around his neck, pressed against him and slammed her tongue into his mouth. Demanding and hot. His breath caught and he couldn’t release it. Thank you, Jesus. He’d never known anything better than this kiss.
He backed her through the doorway, kicked the door closed behind them and shoved her against the wall. Her slinky hair flew around her face and her chest heaved with each breath. When she slid her leg around his and gave him a wicked-ass grin, every bit of self-control crumbled.
That’s it. She was going to get it. Right here. Right now. Fuck off, Creepy Izzy.
A beep echoed in his head.
What was that?
“The alarm,” he said.
“Who cares?” Izzy was clearly riding the same euphoric wave because she started clawing at his shirt buttons.
He reached behind him to the keypad by the door. Couldn’t reach. Dammit.
“Iz, the alarm will go off in about five seconds. Just let me…”
WHAAAAAAAA!
Too late. The shrieking wail of the alarm permeated the house, but Izzy didn’t seem to hear it. She now had his shirt unbuttoned and his T-shirt pushed up.
Those lush lips trailed kisses across his chest and his body went ballistic. Seriously fucking insane.
He had to get that alarm off, but moving would be a freaking tragedy.
With one arm around her, he dragged her with him to the keypad and punched in the code. Silence shrouded the house.
“Good.
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