making, month on month, and nothing she does seems to make any difference.
Feeling her mood darken, she shuts her laptop firmly, drumming the tips of her fingers impatiently on the lid. She looks at the time on her cell again, for about the hundredth time to find it’s only three minutes later than it had been when she’d last checked it. Where is he? He’s usually back by now.
Fear grips her, making her feel like her stomach is twisting and turning. She wonders if she’ll ever get used to the feeling or if she even wants to. The sensation of impending disaster isn’t one she would wish on anybody.
Wesley had told her what he is, the kind of people he is involved in. She hadn’t gotten into this, whatever this is, with her eyes closed. He’d made it very clear that he is dangerous, that she is in danger just by the virtue of being involved with him. She thought that was a little over-dramatic on his part, but she’d kept quiet as it had been clear he had believed it. But the fear that she is feeling wasn’t for herself. It’s for him.
Over the past week, they had lapsed into a kind of routine. Although ‘routine’ implies something boring, something you do over and over again to the point where it’s just an automatic reaction. She hasn’t reached that point with him; she wonders if she ever will. Everything about him is the opposite of routine and dull. When she is with him something comes alive inside of her that she hadn’t even realized had been dead before.
Their particular ritual involves her lying in bed next to Wesley while he gets a call from another member of the Devil Dogs, giving him instructions. He never tells her where he is going or exactly what those instructions are. The less she knows about it the better, he’d told her. She waits up for him until the early hours of the morning, her insomnia not allowing her much sleep at the best of times. He comes back bloody and bashed and she proceeds to patch him up, doing her best not to ask any questions about what he had done or why. Sometimes she is more successful than others at keeping her natural curiosity under lock and key.
She smiles to herself at the memory of the night before, the way Wesley had stopped her questions by kissing her thoroughly, in a way that made her pulse race and her knees go weak. She squirms in her seat, marveling at how she can be so turned on just by the thought of him and those lips of his and what he can do with them.
They haven’t put a label on what they are, but Isabel knows she’s in real danger with this man. He makes her feel things she never thought possible. He makes her want to wake up with his arms still wrapped around her, pulling her close, protecting her. Not once has she considered sneaking out of the bedroom before he wakes, as had been her MO before him. For the first time in her life, she doesn’t want an uncomplicated relationship. She wants more and that, in itself, is enough to worry her.
Her best friend Jamie had laughed when Isabel told her how she was feeling.
“You know, you’re the only woman I know who worries about wanting more than just a one night stand!” Isabel could hear her friend shaking her head all the way from New York.
“Remind me never to call you when I need advice.” Isabel’s grumbling was good-natured, as it always is with Jamie. She couldn’t remember them ever having an actual argument.
“Aww, come on now, Issy, you know I love you really.” Isabel could imagine the pout on Jamie’s pretty, angelic face as she said the words. “Besides, I know you better than anyone and I can tell you’re holding out on me. So what is it you’re not telling me?”
Isabel cursed her friend’s talent for seeking out truth like a missile. Jamie wasn’t wrong; there was something she hadn’t told her, the big breaking news that Wesley was involved in a criminal biker gang. Isabel wasn’t sure if she’d kept that
Feeling her mood darken, she shuts her laptop firmly, drumming the tips of her fingers impatiently on the lid. She looks at the time on her cell again, for about the hundredth time to find it’s only three minutes later than it had been when she’d last checked it. Where is he? He’s usually back by now.
Fear grips her, making her feel like her stomach is twisting and turning. She wonders if she’ll ever get used to the feeling or if she even wants to. The sensation of impending disaster isn’t one she would wish on anybody.
Wesley had told her what he is, the kind of people he is involved in. She hadn’t gotten into this, whatever this is, with her eyes closed. He’d made it very clear that he is dangerous, that she is in danger just by the virtue of being involved with him. She thought that was a little over-dramatic on his part, but she’d kept quiet as it had been clear he had believed it. But the fear that she is feeling wasn’t for herself. It’s for him.
Over the past week, they had lapsed into a kind of routine. Although ‘routine’ implies something boring, something you do over and over again to the point where it’s just an automatic reaction. She hasn’t reached that point with him; she wonders if she ever will. Everything about him is the opposite of routine and dull. When she is with him something comes alive inside of her that she hadn’t even realized had been dead before.
Their particular ritual involves her lying in bed next to Wesley while he gets a call from another member of the Devil Dogs, giving him instructions. He never tells her where he is going or exactly what those instructions are. The less she knows about it the better, he’d told her. She waits up for him until the early hours of the morning, her insomnia not allowing her much sleep at the best of times. He comes back bloody and bashed and she proceeds to patch him up, doing her best not to ask any questions about what he had done or why. Sometimes she is more successful than others at keeping her natural curiosity under lock and key.
She smiles to herself at the memory of the night before, the way Wesley had stopped her questions by kissing her thoroughly, in a way that made her pulse race and her knees go weak. She squirms in her seat, marveling at how she can be so turned on just by the thought of him and those lips of his and what he can do with them.
They haven’t put a label on what they are, but Isabel knows she’s in real danger with this man. He makes her feel things she never thought possible. He makes her want to wake up with his arms still wrapped around her, pulling her close, protecting her. Not once has she considered sneaking out of the bedroom before he wakes, as had been her MO before him. For the first time in her life, she doesn’t want an uncomplicated relationship. She wants more and that, in itself, is enough to worry her.
Her best friend Jamie had laughed when Isabel told her how she was feeling.
“You know, you’re the only woman I know who worries about wanting more than just a one night stand!” Isabel could hear her friend shaking her head all the way from New York.
“Remind me never to call you when I need advice.” Isabel’s grumbling was good-natured, as it always is with Jamie. She couldn’t remember them ever having an actual argument.
“Aww, come on now, Issy, you know I love you really.” Isabel could imagine the pout on Jamie’s pretty, angelic face as she said the words. “Besides, I know you better than anyone and I can tell you’re holding out on me. So what is it you’re not telling me?”
Isabel cursed her friend’s talent for seeking out truth like a missile. Jamie wasn’t wrong; there was something she hadn’t told her, the big breaking news that Wesley was involved in a criminal biker gang. Isabel wasn’t sure if she’d kept that
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