SAILOR DECIDED HE’D DONE AN A+ job of torturing himself.

Removing his hand from Ísa’s panties when she went boneless against him after her third orgasm—yes, he was proud of himself—he scooped her up into his arms and took her to the bed. While placing her on top of the sheets, he “accidentally” managed to strip off her T-shirt.

Oops.

Discarding the T-shirt, he stood beside the bed with his hands on his hips and just looked down at her sated body.

She was flushed a soft pink all over, all curves and temptation.

Her eyes, heavy lidded, ran up his body—and snagged to a hard stop on his rampant erection. Sailor wasn’t expecting anything, but he was hopeful—he was a man after all, and Ísa fired him up in a way he’d never before experienced.

His redhead hadn’t realized it yet, but if she crooked a finger, he’d obey the summons without hesitation.

She sat up on the bed and looked up at him with sleepy-eyed interest, and her head was at exactly the right height to do bad things to him. That, however, was probably not in the cards tonight.

“Oh, fuck!”

Ísa had raised her hand, run a finger down the outline of his cock.

Gritting his teeth, he blew out a breath and stepped out of reach. “I think,” he said on a wave of frustration, “I might have a noise problem too.” He couldn’t believe he was turning down her offer; he’d obviously lost his mind—his brain cells were all in his cock at this point. “Can I take an IOU?”

Ísa’s smile was an invitation. “That doesn’t look comfortable,” she said, coming up onto her hands and knees and prowling to the very edge of the bed. “How will you sleep?”

Holding himself back took every ounce of his control. “I’ll only have a noise problem with you,” he said through clenched teeth. “I can take care of the problem myself without alerting everyone in the house.”

But when he would’ve moved into the bathroom, Ísa said, “Stay” in a husky voice that made his already ragged control close to useless.

When he looked at her, he saw that her eyes were heavy lidded, her gaze locked on his cock.

“Show me,” she said. “Show me how to touch you.”

Sailor was about to lose it, but he’d be an idiot of monumental proportions if he didn’t take this opportunity. The idea of Ísa watching him…

Stripping off his briefs, he chucked them aside, toward his other clothes.

Ísa gave a little gasp and reached out a hand, but Sailor shook his head, staying out of reach.

“No touching,” he said. “Your sister doesn’t need that kind of a sex education.”

“Just a little taste,” his redhead negotiated. “Bite down on your arm to muffle any sound.”

Sailor’s brain cells surrendered.

Closing the distance between them, he lifted one forearm to his mouth while putting the hand of his other arm gently on the back of Ísa’s head. She didn’t seem to mind, and—

A roar of sound rising in his gut as the sumptuous heat of her mouth closed over the engorged tip of his cock.

Sailor broke contact a bare second later. “No.” His breath came out in harsh bursts. “I am going to be way too noisy for even a gag to work.”

When Ísa’s eyes gleamed, he knew he’d given her another idea.

His cock jumped.

Taking it in hand, the tip shiny wet from her kiss, he decided to put himself out of his misery before his balls turned electric blue and fell off. “Sometimes,” he told her, “I like it slow.” He showed her exactly how slow. “I think about a certain gorgeous redhead, her pretty white thighs clamped around my head while I lick her, and I stroke just like this.”

His words, the fantasy, were doing nothing for his control, but it was Ísa’s reaction that interested him. She was flushed, her breathing uneven, her nipples dark pink and pouting.

“But,” he continued, “today I don’t have the patience for slow. Today I want it hard, fast, so fucking good.” He moved his hand in time with his words until he lost the rhythm and, throwing back his head, allowed his body to buck into his hand.

He hadn’t come in his hand in a while; it was usually easier to do this in the shower, but when he opened his eyes and saw Ísa watching him with an expression that said she wanted to devour him, he had zero regrets.

Blowing her a kiss with his free hand, causing a startled light to come into her eyes, he walked into the bathroom, cleaned up. He was surprised to see Ísa—T-shirt back on—

walking in as he stepped out.

He ran the back of his hand over her cheek. “Everything okay, spitfire?”

Her eyes skimmed down his body, his very naked body, and the tips of her ears went pink. This time Sailor didn’t fight the temptation. Leaning in, he nipped gently at one.

She jumped, her hand coming to lie against his chest. “What was that?”

“Just a thing I wanted to do.” And something he’d be doing more often, because it was so damn adorable. “You need the bathroom?”

Her ears went even more pink if that was possible. “Yes,” she said before entering the bathroom and shutting the door firmly behind herself.

Sailor frowned… right before he got it.

He was grinning when she came back out. “Naked under that T-shirt?” he asked, unable to resist teasing his cute redhead.

She glared at him. “Had to wash out my panties. Thanks to you.”

He took a bow. “You’re welcome.” He’d pulled his own briefs back on since he had nothing else in which to sleep and he didn’t trust his naked cock around Ísa. He’d go commando tomorrow.

However, the idea of Ísa being sweetly bare under that T-shirt, it was a damn fine one.

He pulled back the covers. “Get in,” he said. “I promise to only molest you a tiny bit.”

“Just remember the noise issue,” Ísa replied with spitfire spunk and slipped in.

Smiling, he got in after flicking off the light. He made sure to snuggle her close to him so that she was tucked against his chest, his thigh pushed up between hers. He’d had a long day. Lots of satisfying manual labor, topped off by a powerful sexual release that had flooded his body with endorphins and turned his limbs lazy.

So despite his threat to tease and play with his redhead, it only took him a couple of minutes to fall into a dark, dreamless sleep.

---

ÍSA FELT SAILOR DROP OFF; no wonder, his muscles had to be exhausted after the day he’d put in—the days he’d been putting in one after the other. She knew the kind of grueling work it took to start a business, then take it to the next level. She’d seen both her parents do it.

It scared her to see Sailor walk the same unforgiving path.

Because the one thing, the one thing she’d always told herself, was that she was to never ever fall in love with a man who had a business to run. She had no intention of repeating her lonely childhood as an adult.

The idea of eating dinner with relative strangers, or alone as she had as a young teen who’d outgrown nannies, was her own personal vision of hell. She’d survived those early teen years mostly because of Nayna’s family, who’d semiadopted her. It was why she understood the complex dynamics of her best friend’s family, understood the intense, abiding love entwined with the strict rules that threatened to crush Nayna’s spirit.

After Catie’s birth, Ísa had made sure the poor, tiny girl never felt lonely as she had, even though Jacqueline had been her usual absentee self once Catie was out of the hospital, while Clive was a brilliant, adoring father one day and off racing cars in Los Angeles or some other harebrained thing the next. Catie had been three, Ísa eighteen when Jacqueline and Clive divorced. Only Ísa had remained a constant in her sister’s life.

She’d always be there for Catie. Just as she would be for Harlow.

But her siblings couldn’t fill the hole in Ísa formed during her own childhood. They were children. What Ísa needed desperately was a deeply adult thing—for the man she loved to not constantly push her aside for more important matters. She needed him to see her on the most primal level.

She needed him not to forget her.

This isn’t love, she thought, comforting herself. You’re just confused because of the orgasms.

Ísa had to believe that; it was the only way she could risk continuing this relationship. Because sooner or later, Sailor Bishop would come to a crossroads and have to make a choice: go all in on his business dreams or live a life with a little more balance, a life that included time to love a woman, time to build a family.

Having seen his drive and ambition, Ísa had no illusions about the choice he’d make.

I’m married to my business. She’s also my very demanding mistress. Doesn’t tolerate other women for long periods.

When that time came, Ísa had to be ready to walk away. She couldn’t risk being tied to him by love while her soul shriveled with loneliness. Throat thick, she whispered, “Please don’t break my heart, Sailor” while knowing that to be an inevitability.

---

THEY HAD AN EARLY BREAKFAST the next morning. Despite the late night, Sailor had woken at five, as was his habit. Usually he made time to go out for a run. You’d think with such a physical job, he’d have given up the running, but he liked that early-morning stretch. Today, however, he had nothing to run in even if he’d wanted to leave the bed.

Ísa woke when he stirred, and he nuzzled a kiss into her neck. She’d been an easy sleeping companion, no wiggling around from Miss Ísa Rain; she’d stayed nicely tucked up against him all night long.

“You’re very cuddly,” he told her with another kiss.

The tips of her ears went red again. “I’ve always had big hips.”

Sailor wanted to scratch his head. What the hell had he said about hips?

Deciding to leave that one alone, he snuggled her soft curviness even closer. “So,” he said, “what should we do today?”

Ísa turned so that she was on her back. “Let’s see how Catie is this morning.” Concern darkened her eyes. “I know she was very gung ho about us leaving this morning when we spoke to her last night, but she might feel differently if she wakes stiff and sore.”

Sailor nodded. He couldn’t imagine his younger brothers being without support should they be hurt and scared.

“If she does want me to stay,” Ísa said, “then I want you to go back to Auckland.”

Frowning, he said, “I won’t be going anywhere as long as you need help.” The idea of abandoning his redhead didn’t sit right with him.

A wary vulnerability in her expression before she pressed her fingers against his lips. “Thank you,” she said with a smile so deep that he felt as if he’d watched dawn break right here in this tumbled bed, “but I know you need to get back to work. You’re on a very tight deadline for Fast Organic. Plus there’s nothing here I can’t handle.”

He nipped at her fingers, annoyed with her for making sense. “How will you get back home?”

“I can easily hire a car.” Pausing, she snapped her fingers. “No, I’ll borrow Clive’s car. It’s just sitting in the garage anyway. And he always flies back into Auckland; he can pick it up.”

“Yeah,” Sailor grumbled. “I suppose that works.”

Cupping his face, Ísa kissed him with wild affection. “Thank you for caring.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s like thanking me for breathing.” She was his; of course he’d care for her and those who were important to her. “Since we’re both up, how about we go rustle up some breakfast?”

His stomach growled on cue.

Ísa laughed. “Early bird?”

Deciding she was much, much better than an alarm, Sailor stroked the warm curve of her thigh as he spoke. “Always have been. I used to help my mom prepare lunch for Gabe and me when we were at school. After Jake and Danny came along, I used to help her with theirs too.” It had been a special time between him and his mom before the rest of the household was awake.

Sailor still did the same the odd night he stayed over at his parents’ after watching a late game on their big-screen TV.

Waking, he would stumble down into the kitchen to find his mother brewing him a cup of coffee, she was so certain he’d show. These days he usually made her sit down and took over the task of cooking their traditional postgame breakfast.

Alison Esera had worked more than enough for one lifetime.

Jake and Danny, they hadn’t seen the hard times that Sailor and Gabe had, and so sometimes they gave Alison a little more back talk than their older brothers. Not much, and it was never disrespectful—they hadn’t been brought up that way, not with Joseph for a father and Gabe and Sailor for older brothers—but it was a type of childhood rebellion their mother had never seen in her older sons.

It made her happy to know her younger sons were growing up in the light—but she still worried about the damage done to Sailor and Gabriel during the early part of their lives. Sometimes he’d catch her watching him with gray eyes awash in concern and love and hope, and he’d enfold her in his arms, safe against the scars of the past.

Ísa’s fingers across his jaw, her gaze searching. “Where did you go?” she asked softly, having turned to face him while he’d been lost in thought.

Used to keeping his secrets from the women who shared his bed, Sailor went to shake his head and change the direction of the conversation… and realized two things.

One, Ísa was far more than a bedmate. She was his redhead.

And Sailor was a stubborn, possessive bastard under the surface.

Also, two, he wanted her to know who he was, wanted her to understand that he was far older than his chronological age. “I was thinking about early mornings helping my mom cook,” he admitted. “They’re some of my favorite childhood memories.”

Face lighting up, Ísa said, “Oh? How old were you when you started?” So much hunger in her, so much sheer need.