Chapter Seven
“Where should we go?” I ask, motioning around Main street.
“Oh…” he says, not letting go of my hand. Normally, I’m not into PDA of any sort, but the way he holds my fingers, almost playfully, doesn’t feel grossly intimate. It feels sweet. “I thought I’d drive us to Le Che.”
I look sideways at him. “I’m absolutely not dressed for that,” I say, feeling self-conscious. I take my hand from his, crossing my arms over my chest. “I mean, if you want to try another day, I’ll—”
“We’ll take it go,” he offers quickly. “Eat it in the car.”
I laugh. “You want to pick up five-star dining and eat it in the car?”
“Why not?” he asks.
I watch him a moment. “You have a really nice car, don't you?” I ask. He smiles.
“Kind of.”
I laugh, and slap his shoulder, but he quickly grabs my wrist and twists me around, wrapping up from behind with a hug as we walk down the street. I’m sure we look adorable, and when I see Kinsey’s shop coming up, I quickly untangle myself.
“I’m in,” I say about dinner. “But I’m sorry you had waste such a fancy outfit.”
“I didn’t waste it,” he says. “I wore it for you.”
“Aw…” I reply, flashing him a smile. To be honest, I want to hug him and kiss him and be all kinds of sweet to him. What is happening to me?
Kinsey’s right—I’m falling. And I’m falling hard.
+++
Isaac has a matte black Range Rover that smells like vanilla, completely clean and brand spanking new. I’ve never owned a new car, but if I did, it would be a Honda or something. This car probably cost more than my bar.
We pulled up the menu for Le Che on Isaac’s phone, called in the order, and then I waited in the front seat while Isaac ran in to pick up the food. I’m still a bit embarrassed, wishing I’d dressed up. I sort of love the idea of going out to a fancy dinner, even if it intimidates me at the same time.
What would it be like to have this life? This life with Isaac?
I smile to myself, but then, suddenly, there is a crash of reality. Fear of disappointment and regret. It’s going to end—that’s inevitable. So I’m at once torn between enjoying it while it lasts and protecting myself.
Maybe he won’t move, part of me tries to say, but I cut that voice out quickly. I wasn’t always like this, such a realist. Pessimist, I guess. But that was before my life was upended by a relationship.
Before I can get too far inside my head, Isaac appears at the restaurant door, holding it open for a little old couple walking in, nodding a hello at them. My worry fades.
He’s so cute standing there, holding a bag of take-out, dressed in his Sunday best. Especially since I know he’s wearing it for me.
Isaac climbs back in the car, passing the food over to me, and we drive to Main St, parking in the private lot behind my bar. It's empty, which isn't a surprise. Most people in town walk everywhere, especially when they want to get shit-faced.
I point out a secluded spot, completely hidden from view, and then Isaac and I get into the back with our tins of pasta. We pass plastic forks and breadsticks, making our own little backseat picnic.
Isaac tells me about his class, how one lady argued with the teacher. His grad class is populated mostly with adults going back to school for their master’s degree, and he mentions that he also happens to be his teacher’s favorite.
“And why’s that?” I ask, taking the last bite of rigatoni. “Because you’re so cute?” I grin, and he laughs, embarrassed.
“No, Phee,” he says, putting aside his tin of pasta and grabbing out a smaller one. “It’s because I’m smart.” He winks at me, and takes the top off to show me a slice of cheesecake with strawberries and whipped cream.
“Well, damn,” I say, immediately stabbing a strawberry with my fork. “You are smart.” He smiles, setting the plate between us to take his own bite. “And for the record,” I add. “Also extremely cute.”
The overhead light is dim, but I can see the blush on his cheeks. He obviously knows he’s dreamy, but he seems much more at ease calling me gorgeous. He bites cake off his plastic fork, and leans back in the seat, gazing at me.
“Want to come to a wedding with me?” he asks.
“What?” I ask, my heart skipping. “Why?”
“Because I want to take you.”
“Is this your sister's wedding?” I ask. “The sister who warned you not to get involved with me?”
“Very same.”
I pick up a piece of strawberry and eat it, and the minute it’s in my mouth, Isaac catches my fingers and brings them to his lips, licking them clean. It is incredibly and achingly sexy. I smile at him, and take the trays and move them to the passenger seat. Isaac lounges back, waiting for my attention.
Instead of climbing on top of him right away, I switch off the light, and climb to the floor, finding room between his legs in front of him. I start working at those fancy clothes. Isaac’s surprised, but he brushes my hair aside, holding it in a gentle ponytail as I slide his boxers down his thighs. His cock springs up, fully hard.
He looks dazed, and with his other hand, he brushes my cheek so lovingly that I lift my eyes to his. Chills run over my arms, and I get a bit lost in the moment.
I must stare too long because he licks his bottom lip and then smiles, slow and sexy. I don’t even get the chance to pleasure him first because he takes my hand and tugs me onto the seat. He leans me back, climbing on top of me. I don’t want to ruin his interior with my boots, and when I tell him, he laughs and kisses me. He kisses my lips, my jaw, my neck.
He’s not wearing any pants, and I reach down to stroke his cock, gently at first, but then faster, squeezing harder and making him curse out my name.
My right boot is on his window, my other on the floor, and he’s tugging on my jean skirt but we’re pretty cramped back here. This is definitely not the most mature hook-up I’ve had, but oh, my—do I want him right now.
He finally gets my skirt over my hips, and like he can’t wait, he pulls my legs to the side, angling himself so he can enter me. He almost does, and then he quickly stops, looking down at me.
His eyes are wild, his cheeks red. He’s going to fucking nail me, that’s for sure. The idea of it makes my entire body quiver with anticipation, but he doesn’t undress me. He doesn’t even take off my boots.
Isaac slips on a condom, and then he grabs my legs again, holding them both over his right arm, and then he pushes inside of me, both of us moaning loudly, too keyed up to be quiet. I reach up, my hand on the cool glass of the window above me as he slides in and out, the position making the fit even tighter.
“Phee,” he moans out, and I think he wants to change positions. This feels too good, too deep, and I know he can’t last. But we don’t have a ton of options in a back seat.
I can’t even think straight, holding onto the door as he pounds into me. I have no leverage, so I can’t even pull him closer. I’m helpless, completely at his discretion. I want him closer. I want to kiss him. I want him to…
And suddenly I think that I want him to say that he loves me. That I want to hear it as he comes. I haven’t heard those words in years. My eyes are heavy lidded, my entire body rocking as he thoroughly owns me, watching me with an expression that’s a cross between ecstasy and possession.
I come immediately, and when he feels it, he slows. He slides in and out, slowly. Deeply.
“Oh, Phoebe,” he murmurs, and then he pulls out and lays on top of me, hugging me, burying his face in my neck. I’m momentarily shocked, still in the throes of it all, but I thread my fingers through his hair.
He breathes heavily against me, and all I want is to hold him. To let him hold me. I realize that, holy shit, he’s turning me into a snuggler.
“Aren’t you going to finish?” I ask, kissing his cheek, kissing his lips when he lifts his head. He keeps his eyes closed, and I miss the blueness of them.
He shakes his head no, and then gazes down at me. He runs his palm over my breast, squeezing it softly before smiling.
“You know you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life, right?” he asks.
I laugh. “What about the ex?”
“Yikes,” he says. “Don’t bring up that kind of stuff. I’m still pillow-talking here.”
“You didn’t finish,” I point out. “So technically—”
And like he takes it as a personal challenge, he slides one hand up my shirt, and fucks me until I have to cover my mouth to keep from screaming nonsense, and he comes so hard he says he thinks he had an aneurysm.