Chapter Sixteen

Hal

By the time it gets dark, the party is in full swing. Leon’s the King of the castle, the perfect host, moving around the room making sure everyone’s enjoying themselves. The Silver Ferns match starts, and everyone gathers in the living room to cheer on our girls, with their drink of choice and a plate filled with burgers, sausages, and kebabs from the barbecue. Leon’s closed the doors to the deck and turned on the air con, but it’s still hot, a beautiful summer evening.

I’m finding it difficult to concentrate. I want to watch the game as much as anyone, but my blood’s up, and I can’t take my eyes off Izzy. I’m convinced she’s not wearing a bra beneath that orange top, and my hands are itching to touch her breasts as they sway when she leans forward. She’s enjoying herself tonight, laughing a lot, flirting with me, her light-brown eyes glittering when she obviously spots how I’m feeling. Even when we’re not standing next to each other, I’m conscious of where she is in the room, as if we’re bound by an invisible thread. It’s attached to my dick, I think. It twitches every time she even glances in my direction.

I want her. I don’t know if I can wait much longer.

Everyone’s attention is fixed on the ninety-eight-inch TV screen on Leon’s wall—that must have cost him a small fortune. Izzy rises and says she’s going to the bathroom. I watch her go, then, when I’m sure nobody’s watching, I rise and go after her.

There’s someone in the large bathroom, so she passes it and heads down the corridor to the smaller one at the back of the house. I wait outside the door. Then, when I hear the lock turn and the door opens, I walk in, making her jump and exclaim.

I close the door behind me and lock it. “Hal!” she says, and I laugh, put my hands on her hips, and push her up against the wall.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” I tell her, and I crush my lips to hers. Izzy moans, and then she lifts her arms around my neck and returns the kiss. Her tongue delves into my mouth, and I groan and press up against her. My blood’s like lava in my veins, searing around my body. I think I might have a fever. I haven’t felt this hot, this horny, for years.

Izzy starts laughing, puts her hands on my chest, and pushes me away. “Honestly,” she scolds, “people will wonder where we’ve gone!” She steps around me, making for the door.

I put out a hand and stop her. It’s dark in the room because she switched off the light before she opened the door, and the moon’s hidden behind the oncoming storm clouds, so it’s black outside. I can barely see her, but I can feel her, which is more important to me right now.

“Hal,” she whispers, her fingers tightening on my arm.

I move behind her and lift her hands to place them on the wall. Then, slowly, I run the tips of my fingers from her hands up underneath her arms. She shivers.

“What’s up with you tonight?” she says, quivering.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” I continue tracing my fingers, up over her shoulders, down her back, around her waist. “I’m burning for you, Izz. I want you so badly.”

“Sounds like you need a little DIY,” she teases.

“That won’t work this time.” I’m too hot, too in lust. “It’s you I need.” I nuzzle her hair, then reach up a hand and pull out the clip holding it up. It unfurls over her shoulder, a thick silky chocolate ribbon. I let it curl around my hand, then move it aside so I can lower my lips to her cheek. Slowly, I place soft kisses to her ear, and I suck the lobe.

Izzy gives a soft moan and tips her head back on my shoulder. It’s all I need to tell me she wants this, and I feel a surge of desire, making me hard instantly.

So far, our courting—and I choose the antique word purposefully—has been very reserved, almost Victorian. We’ve kissed—a lot—but that’s it. I’ve taken it slow, wanting her to get used to us being together before our relationship turns physical, and it’s worked. She’s relaxed around me now, and she enjoys our kisses. I think she’s ready for more.

I’m not going to make love to her here, not for our first time. I’m not that gone that I can’t control myself. But it doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun.

I kiss down her neck to where her pulse is beating fast, and I cover it with my mouth and suck. She twitches, her fingers curling into fists on the wall. I don’t want to embarrass her by leaving a mark, but I lace my tongue over her skin, enjoying the way her pulse throbs beneath it.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, breathing deeply. “Mmm, Hal…”

I run my fingers down the sides of her ribcage to the bottom of her shirt, and then slide them beneath.

Immediately, she stiffens, and she lowers a hand on top of mine. I stop, and for a moment we stand there in the darkness, not moving.

“No,” she whispers.

I’m not sure if she doesn’t want me to touch her breasts, or if she just doesn’t want me touching her scars. I remove my hand from beneath her shirt, and she blows out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” she says, a tremor in her voice.

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay.” She’s already let me brush down her ribs. Over her shirt is fine. She doesn’t want me to touch her scars.

I feel a twist inside at the thought, but I’m not going to push her, not now. Instead, I say, “Can I do this?” I run my fingers over her tummy, on top of the shirt. She hesitates, then gives a small nod. “How about this?” Standing close to her so her back is to my chest, I place my hands on her tummy. Another nod. “And this?” I murmur, and I slowly bring them up to cup her breasts.

Izzy sighs and leans back into my embrace, and I rest my lips on her shoulder, relieved she’ll let me touch her, even if it is over her T-shirt. I was right; she’s not wearing a bra, and her breasts are like small soft pillows in my hands. I caress them, then brush my thumbs over her nipples, and she moans.

“Oh, Izzy.” I slide one hand beneath her chin to turn her head so I can kiss her, and I plunge my tongue into her mouth as I return my hand to her breast. Gently, I play with her nipples, tugging them a little until they lengthen and harden in my fingers. I want to strip her naked, I want to cover them with my mouth and suck, but for now I just tease them, continuing to kiss her. I love the way she arches her back, asking for more, and I pluck a little harder, and am rewarded by a long sigh and a shudder.

It’s not enough; I can’t leave her like this. I move my hands down, smiling in the darkness as she gives a disappointed sigh, to the waistband of her pants. Slowly, I push the button through the hole. She holds her breath, and I can imagine her blinking, her lips parting, her heart thudding on her ribs. I slide down the zipper.

“We can’t,” she whispers. “Everyone will—”

“Fuck everyone else.” My voice comes out as a husky growl. I place my hand on her tummy, just under the bottom of her T-shirt. She lets me, and, with a sigh, I slip my fingers beneath the elastic of her panties, and then slide them down.

Oh holy fuck, she waxes down there, and my fingers find silky-smooth bare skin. I groan and rest my forehead on her shoulder as I continue down, moving my fingers into her soft, swollen folds. She’s wet, and my fingers slide easily. I coat them in her moisture, then move my middle finger to swirl over her clit.

“Ohhh…” She shudders. “Hal…”

“You’re going to come for me,” I murmur in her ear, as I return my other hand to her breast and begin playing with her nipple again. “I’m going to touch you and stroke you until you can’t bear it anymore, and then I want to feel you pulsing on my fingers.”

“Oh my God…” She lowers a hand to rest on top of mine, and I wonder whether she’s going to push me away, but it’s as if she’s fascinated by what I’m doing, and she just follows my movement, tipping her head back on my shoulder again.

She turns her face and kisses me, and I tease her lips with my tongue and teeth while I flick her nipple and circle my finger over her clit. She’s not far; I know the signs—the breaths turning to gasps, the involuntary arching of the back, the swelling of her clit.

Suddenly, there are footsteps outside, and we both freeze as someone approaches. The handle clicks as they try to turn it. I feel a surge of naughtiness, and slide my fingers down through her folds, stroking her firmly.

Izzy clears her throat. “Occupied! I won’t be long.”

“Sorry! No worries,” a woman says, “the other one’s just become empty.” Her footsteps return up the corridor.

I chuckle in Izzy’s ear.

“You’re so wicked,” she whispers.

“Yep.” I nip her earlobe. She jerks, then moans. “Quietly,” I scold, continuing to arouse her.

“Oh God, I hate you.” She gives a long sigh.

“I know.” I can feel her orgasm approaching. She’s starting to tense, holding her breath as she concentrates on the feelings deep inside her. I keep stroking, regular and rhythmic, as it builds, and then she gasps and pulses on my fingers. Her groans are loud, and I cover her mouth with my hand, holding her tightly. Only when she’s done and she sags against me do I take my hand away.

“Oh holy fuck,” she whispers, turning in my arms and burying her face in my chest.

I wrap my arms around her and give her a fierce hug. “I love you, Izzy Fitzgerald.”

“Oh Hal, you’ll be the death of me.” She covers her face with her hands. “Was I loud?”

“Not once I covered your mouth.”

“Oh jeez.”

I chuckle and kiss her forehead. “Look up at me.” She doesn’t, so I scold her. “Izzy. Look up at me.” She relents and lifts her face, and I bend to place a kiss on her lips. “Thank you,” I tell her.

“For what?” The moon must have come out, because I can see her face, her skin turned silver, her eyes shining.

“For letting me love you.” I kiss her again, plunging my tongue into her mouth. “Come home with me,” I say when I eventually lift my head. “Come back to my place.”

She rests her cheek on my chest. “Go to bed with you?”

“Yes. Please, Izzy.” I kiss her hair. “If you’re not ready, I’ll wait. But I want you. So much.”

“I want you too,” she whispers.

“Then…”

She nods. “I’ll come back with you.”

My heart leaps. I stroke her hair, then pick up her clip and give it to her. She twists her hair back up, then fastens her pants.

“You’re a wicked, wicked man,” she tells me, brushing down her shirt.

“You drive me to it.” I unlock the door. “You’ve got ten minutes. Then we’re heading out.”

“Ten minutes?”

“I’m serious, Izz. You’re lucky I’m not dragging you out the door by your hair.” I open the door a crack, peer out, then open it wider. “Coast is clear.”

She slips past me and pauses. Now it’s light I can see her flushed cheeks. She meets my eyes, and hers are wide, glittering with some emotion, I’m not sure what. Excitement? Anticipation? She backs away, turns, and runs back to the party.

I follow at a slower pace, trying to give my erection time to go down. Not long now, I tell myself. Not long, and she’s going to be all mine.