Isabella lifts her wine glass in the air. “To ending the game.”

“To ending the game.” We clink our glasses together, and then she dissolves into laughter for the thirtieth time since I spirited her away from her office in my town car. I never would have taken her for the kind of woman to skip out on work on a random Wednesday to spend the afternoon at a restaurant and the evening—that’s to be determined—with me. “What’s so funny?”

“I bet...” She takes a sip of the wine, a white that’s so sweet it could be dessert by itself. “I bet you have no intention of ending the game.”

“What game are you talking about? The game of romance?” I wiggle my eyebrows at her. “The game of life?”

She purses her lips, trying to look serious. “We did make an arrangement, of sorts.”

“Oh, that.” I take a second sip of the wine and feel the buzz travel down into my gut, mixing with the warm happiness already settling there. “No, I have no intention of ending that. You’re absolutely right.”

“How much time do we have left?”

“What makes you think that agreeing to be with me doesn’t extend it into infinity?”

Isabella shrugs, her white teeth flashing with her smile. “All of life can’t be at your discretion and under your control.” She lowers her voice for those phrases, drawing a laugh out of me. “I’d never stand for that.”

“Maybe you would.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“We’ll see.”

I called her from the town car and told her to cancel all her afternoon appointments. I expected a back and forth, a delay, something tantalizing and infuriating, but she’d waited only a single moment before she answered. “I’ll be right down.”

Isabella sets her wine glass on the linen table cloth and breathes in deep, glancing out the windows at the sunny day. We’re on the ninth floor, and from here you can see the hum of the city. It looks alive, glowing in the afternoon light. It doesn’t hold a candle to Isabella. “So,” she says, looking back at me with her green eyes dancing. “Let’s talk details.”

“Wow.” I lean back in faux shock. “You do not waste any time getting down to business.”

“I could say the same about you.” She arches an eyebrow at me. “Details.”

“What details are you fishing for?”

She rolls her eyes and laughs. “What is this going to look like, Jasper? Are we supposed to launch ourselves headfirst into a serious relationship?”

“I get the impression we’ve already...launched.”

Isabella considers this. “You did interrupt my entire workday to declare your love for me.”

I lean forward and wait.

She leans back a little, looking at me from the corner of her eye.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I let the word fall nonchalantly from my mouth. 

I can wait all day.

Isabella’s face goes red, and then a slow grin spreads across her face. “Don’t hold your breath, Jasper. I’ll do this on my schedule.”

I reach across the table for her hand. “I’d expect nothing less.”

She tugs at my hand, giving me a wicked grin. “I can’t stay here with you forever, you know. There’s more stop I need to make at the office.”

I’m on my feet immediately. “Let’s go.”

I wait only as long as it takes to shut her office door behind us.

“Hands on the wall.”

She raises her hands immediately, pressing her palms to the inner wall of her office and bracing herself.

“Spread.”

Isabella doesn’t hesitate, stepping her legs apart.

As soon as she does, I slide my hand under her skirt until my fingertips meet her panties. I let out a growl of frustration. This is going to require two hands. The lace comes apart in my fists and I shove the shredded remnants into my pocket.

Isabella’s breathing hard, her hands still firmly on the wall.

I step closer, leaning down, my lips an inch from her ear. With one hand, I trace a path over the pulse beating underneath the pale skin of her neck, and I slide the other back up under her skirt. She’s wet, and the moment I make contact with her slit she arches her back, pressing into my hand. “I think you like this.”

She turns her head, her lips an inch from mine. “I do.”

“I think you like it when I have you up against the wall...” I push two fingers inside of her and she gasps. “Or pin you down on my bed...” I pulse them in and out, then curl them to the front of her channel. Isabella’s legs tremble. “Or even tie you so you can’t move that gorgeous body of yours.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

I’m fucking her with my fingers, and her eyes flash with desperation. She already wants to come so badly she can taste it, and we’ve been back at her office for five minutes. She wanted to pick up some paperwork, check her messages—at least, that’s what she said to the few people who were still at their desks when we arrived.

“Because—” She grits her teeth, taking one of her hands off the wall for a split second before she remembers what she’s supposed to be doing. “Because I love being yours.”

This is as close as she’s gotten to saying that she loves me, too. Not that I expected her to make a grand confession the moment I showed up today. If there’s anything I’ve learned about Isabella, it’s that she’s always going to confound my expectations. 

I nip at her earlobe with my teeth, the gentlest bite, and she sucks in a big breath. “I can tell.”

Then I’m behind her, unzipping my pants and lining up the head of my cock with her opening. She bucks her hips back against me, working the tip inside, and that’s all it takes.

I thrust inside of her with all the pent-up heat that’s been building all day, taking her in one stroke. “Oh...” Isabella lets go of the wall to stifle her moans, blocking the sound with one of her knuckles. “Yes,” she whispers as I pick up the pace, my hands on her hips, rocking her with this rhythm. And when I reach around her waist and seek out her clit with my fingertips, she says it again: “Yes, yes.”

Yes, yes, yes.