Chapter Sixteen
Desiderio
“Desire”
At six o’clock Sawyer was glued to his front window watching the edge of his driveway. Did she still drive a Volvo? He waited impatiently, his mind in an all-out guessing game of how their evening would go.
A sporty, ice-blue Mercedes turned onto his property. The sleek and luxurious convertible suited her and he smiled. She looked good in expensive things. She looked good in anything.
She looked good in nothing…
He met her out front and got the door. “You got a new car.”
“It’s actually one of my dad’s. Mine’s getting new tires. I still have the Volvo.”
His brows lifted. That Volvo was almost fifteen years old.
She followed him into the house and he wondered if he should have ordered dinner ahead of time. His head was up his ass today.
“I figured I’d wait to order in case you wanted something special.”
She placed her purse on the hall table and looked around. “You painted.”
“A while ago.”
“Who picked this color? It’s an orange, right?”
He always forgot she was colorblind, probably because she never complained about it. “It’s sort of a burnt sienna, called something obnoxious like Tuscan Dawn.” He chuckled, because he hadn’t liked the color then and it hadn’t grown on him since. “My decorator picked it. She said it would grow on me.”
“Has it?”
“I actually think I dislike it more now than I did then.”
She laughed. “Stick with blues and grays. You always gravitate toward cooler tones. This is too warm for you. And get a new decorator. You know they’re not doing a good job if a colorblind person can give them pointers.”
He laughed. “You just know me better.”
She looked over her shoulder, edging her way toward the den. Were they going to talk about trivial bullshit or real issues? She sat on his couch and he joined her, unsure how close he should sit.
“How was your first day of work?”
“Really busy. And exciting. Do you have wine? I brought a bottle but I left it in the car. I can go get it.”
“I have wine.” He stood and went to the kitchen.
“You still have all the same boring books,” she called as he searched for a wine key. “You really need to fire that decorator.”
He uncorked a bottle of Chablis and let it breathe. “I’m used to her.”
“She fills your house with things you don’t like.”
He poured two glasses and turned, coming up short when he found Isadora standing in the kitchen. He handed her a glass.
“To your first day of work.”
“Cheers.” She clinked her glass to his. Her stare stayed on his face as she took a long sip.
After she swallowed, she asked, “So what made you change your mind about seeing me?”
“I… Let’s go back to the den.”
Once they were both seated on the couch she looked at him expectantly. He eyed her suspiciously, wondering how she seemed so over their past when she hadn’t necessarily moved on. Or maybe she wasn’t over it at all and that’s why she was here.
Enough dancing around the unknown. “You said you had dated?”
“Mmm.” She nodded, swallowing another sip of wine. “Tyrian, the guy I met at Vivian’s wedding. We went out for a few months, but I ended things.”
“Why?”
“He was a great guy, but he wasn’t my guy.”
“Has there been anyone else?” He hated how badly he needed to know, certain if she said yes he’d suffer more than he already was.
“No. I mean, I had a cup of coffee here and there with some people from school. A few Italians bought me drinks. But nothing serious. Honestly, I haven’t had the time to date. And I don’t miss it.”
He frowned. He was speaking to Isadora, but this wasn’t her. She was so … self-assured, so unbothered by being single. In a way it put her on his level and for reasons he didn’t want to examine that intimidated him. He’d sent her away so she could find better. Maybe she was grateful they’d broken up. Maybe she now believed he was right—she could do better than him.
“It’s a shame about Vivian and her husband. I didn’t expect that.” That’s how you respond? For the first decent conversation in four years, he was certainly botching the shit out of it.
Isadora didn’t miss a beat. “I admire her. I mean, there’s a girl who went to school, became a doctor, fell in love, and figured out she’d married wrong and fixed it right away. No tears over spilt milk. A lot of women would suffer through, but Vivian got out as soon as she realized her mistake. In time, no one will even remember she was married and she might still find the right man.”
She spoke about a marriage dissolving as if nothing substantial was lost. A relationship had ended. A commitment gone, vows broken. What happened to the girl who believed in fairytales and romance? He’d wanted her to grow and experience new things, but this cool façade didn’t suit her. She was either hiding or something major had changed her.
Out of things to say—not that he was showing off his clever conversation skills—he stood and went to refill his wine.
When he returned, her shoes were off and her feet were tucked under her legs. He froze in the doorway, taken off guard by how familiar and right she looked on his couch.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He couldn’t stop staring. She looked so at home. Perfect. As if she belonged there.
Her back straightened and he sensed the ice queen mask sliding back into place. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No.” The words came quick, without thought, his heart objecting before his brain had a chance to weigh in. “I want…”
You to be yourself with me. He missed her.
She placed her wine glass on the coffee table and stood. A stampede vibrated in his chest as she stepped closer.
“Do you want me to stay?”
Fuck. Fuck him for letting his dick lead him right back to where they’d been four years ago. She was playing him, using all her youthful charms against him when he should know better. Nothing had changed.
He took a step back. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
A shaky smile curved her lips. “I want to stay, but that doesn’t mean I will.”
“What does it mean?” Enough with the cryptic signals. “I’d appreciate it if you could be direct, Isadora. I’m not sure what this is and I don’t want any misunderstandings.” He did want her though.
“Okay.” She also took a step back. “I want you, Sawyer. Not just tonight, but for as long as it suits me. I don’t want to wait around for Mondays and I don’t want you lecturing me about husbands or babies. I want to live in the now and worry about tomorrow when it gets here.”
That was certainly more direct than he was used to. “Are we talking about tonight and the occasional—”
“As long as it suits me.”
She seemed to think she held all the cards. He glanced down the front of her body. All right, she held most of them. But that didn’t mean she was the only person with conditions.
“What about discretion?”
“Does it matter at this point?”
“Yes. There’s your position with the company and I want this merger with your brother. Until that happens everyone has to be on their best behavior.”
“The merger or the buyout of Leningrad?”
“Both. First, Lucian will buy your father out and then we’ll merge if all goes accordingly. A lot of time and money went into this deal—your brother’s and mine. I don’t want to jeopardize that at this point.”
The buyout would be within the next year, but the merger could take much longer. Did he really have the energy to go back to where they were?
Lucian still had to get his company off the ground. Sawyer had no doubt, like everything else Lucian touched, this company would be a success. But his family’s stake and his son’s future wouldn’t be secure until then. Once her father was out and Slade was partnered in, Sawyer could step back, and he didn’t have to worry about his personal conduct.
She lifted her chin and looked him directly in the eye. “Fine. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You treat what we have as a relationship. That means we communicate and you don’t decide anything without me.”
He’d thought he’d done the right thing, and maybe he had, but now he wondered if it had been four years wasted. When he ended their relationship he’d been a fucking mess, but he dealt with it, gave her time, and she seemed to handle it better than him.
She could still meet someone better suited for her.
Fuck that. He wanted her. His gut twisted as if he were about to commit a crime with a life sentence. If they did this, went back to what they had, he couldn’t hurt her. He couldn’t hurt either of them. It wasn’t a decision to be made lightly.
If he were being honest—noble—he shouldn’t have her at all. Nothing changed. They would always be in different stages of life. He was winding down and she was just beginning. They were on two different timepieces with gears that only sometimes overlapped.
This time, it might be her who left him . Letting her go was one thing—the right thing—but losing her forever… He might not survive that.
She let out a sigh. “If you can’t agree to my conditions, just say so.”
He looked at her— really looked. She was the whole package, even more than before. His affection hadn’t waned. He still wanted to do right by her, even if she didn’t see it that way. If her priorities had changed and she no longer wanted marriage and family, that changed everything—got rid of a good deal of his guilt.
“I’m only going to ask this once, but I need an honest answer. Do you still want a family and children?”
“Yes, but no one’s offering that right now. I also want you, maybe more than the fairytale.”
Well, she gave him honesty. Like that made his decision any easier. Fuck him and his selfish soul. If he was any sort of decent man, he’d send her away.
She was everything and deserved the world on a platter, not a single want gone unanswered, but he’d never be able to give her everything. She’d be sacrificing and eventually their relationship would turn into a filthy regret.
Thirty. Fifty.
Forty. Sixty.
She’d never want him once he passed seventy. The less painful end—for both of them—would be walking away now.
“You do realize I turned fifty this year, Isadora.”
“Unless you’re asking for a belated cake, I don’t see why that’s relevant. Your age never bothered me.”
“Well, I was young when we started,” he joked.
“It was seven years ago, Sawyer. Knock it off.”
He arched a brow, still unsure if he liked or disliked this new sassy side. Maybe he wasn’t truly grasping all the changes in her. Here was his Isadora, not asking, but telling him, exactly what she wanted. Perhaps her eyes were wide open this time.
He might never be okay with his decision, but his mind was apparently already made up.
“Fine. We treat this like a relationship, but it remains private until everything’s settled with your brother.”
“A monogamous relationship,” she corrected. “Not even a plus one at events.”
If only she knew. There had been no one in his bed or across from his table in four years. “Not a problem.”
He enjoyed a woman’s company, but no woman had ever been able to get him to bend the way Isadora could. Not since Chelsea was alive. There had always been something irresistible about Isa. She was special.
The silence of the house became a noise within itself. She smiled nervously at him. “So we’re done negotiating?”
He laughed, finding her statement so very Patras. “Unless you have any more conditions.”
“Just one.”
He braced himself, unsure if he could concede another principle. He was already breaking so many of his rules, namely, to let her live a happy life and not interfere. But at this point, he knew he’d agree to anything. “Let’s hear it.”
“Make love to me.”
His body tightened as blood rushed to his cock. Jesus. There was definitely something to be said for her tenaciousness.
His guard slipped and he smiled. Placing his glass next to hers on the table, he stepped toward her, unable to resist putting his hands on her a moment longer.
“Bella.” He jerked her body to his and gave her a brief second to change her mind. When she made no objection, he lowered his lips to hers.
Her mouth fit against his like a memory he’d never forget. She tugged him closer and deepened the kiss, her eagerness adding fuel to the already scorching fire in his blood. His body firmed as his hands dropped to her hips, massaging greedily.
“Upstairs,” he whispered, tugging her by the hand toward the hall.
“Here.” She pulled him closer to the sofa until they stumbled to the cushions and her body cradled his weight.
His hands coasted over her prim and proper work attire as he hungrily kissed her, showing her exactly how much she’d been missed. At the office he’d been able to see the precise points of her nipples pressing through the thin silk of her blouse. He wanted to rip it off of her now.
Hiking up her fitted skirt, he worked the lace of her panties aside, sinking a finger deep into her core. She arched and moaned, breaking their kiss as his lips moved down her throat and his finger pumped into her.
She was so wet, so responsive. As he fucked his fingers into her tight pussy her scent swept to his nose, filled his lungs, and his desire rushed forward with unstoppable force.
“God, I fucking missed you,” he hissed, yanking her blouse open and unveiling her breasts.
He shoved her bra out of the way and stared. Supple peaks tipped in dark scarlet. He captured a tight nipple in his mouth and sucked hard.
She cried out, running her fingers through his hair and holding him close. Her other hand tugged at his belt. He shoved her skirt higher and yanked her panties down her legs, forcing her thighs wide.
“Scoot forward.” He cupped the back of her knees, dragged her to the edge of the couch, and dropped to his haunches.
She gasped as the heat of his tongue found her center and stabbed deep. “Oh, my God, yes!”
Her legs curled over his shoulders, as he tasted her. So familiar.
He sank two fingers deep and closed his lips over her clit. She cried out again, as her pleasure broke free in a show of such exquisite beauty he nearly came himself.
Stark desire stole through him as her body subtly shook. He kissed a trail up her stomach, back to her breasts. Her arms wreathed around him and she pulled his mouth to hers. Urging him on top of her, she fit her hand into his pants to free his cock and stroke him against her sex, guiding him with gentle presses until he finally sank deep.
His eyes closed as he let out a curse. She felt like home.
Burying his face in her hair, he caught his breath. Easing back, he stared into her eyes and nearly lost himself in the trust he found staring back at him.
“Isadora.”
Her soft smile twitched as her cheeks flushed. There was that familiar innocence he loved. He pulled her mouth to his and kissed her with gentle affection as he thrust into her, claiming everything he’d lost as his once more.
Her eyes opened slowly, a glassy sheen giving away her bottled up emotions. That was the woman he wanted, his bella. She could save the act for someone else.
“Don’t pretend to be someone else with me, bella. Where’s my girl?”
“I’m here,” she whispered, a tear slipping past her lashes.
He traced the moisture away with his thumb. He wanted to hold her, take care of her, protect her, but she was stronger and different now. Or was she?
“You’re still my bella.”
Her mouth curved into a smile. “I’ll always be your bella.”
He thrust hard. A static melody of pounding flesh mixed with their moans. He growled, unable to get close enough to her, doubling his speed.
When he was near finishing, he reached between them, teasing her clit, and she shattered once more. His release pumped into her and she held him tight, his shoulders trembling under her fingertips, an unnamable emotion cocooning his heart.
He pulled her into his arms, tighter than any man would hold a paramour, and it scared the living shit out of him. How had he gone without her for so long? Never again.