She didn’t wait for his answer, just held his hand there and drew his head to hers, using every ounce of strength she possessed. She felt powerful, too. She was a queen. She could have anything she wanted, and she wanted Dalton. He was hers for the taking. She could see it from the way he couldn’t take his gaze from hers. A woman could get lost in eyes that sexy.
But now she had to have his lips on hers, his mouth to her mouth. If she didn’t she might die, the thirst to have him was so great. The shock of her lips touching his was like a lightning bolt, a fusion of their strengths, a sexual torrent transferring from her to him.
She might not survive it. She didn’t care. She wanted this man more than she’d ever wanted anything before. He was power. He was hers.
At the first touch of Isabelle’s lips to his, Dalton felt the shock, like being struck by an electric current. But it was more than that. It was a physical rocking of his senses. Never mind that a gorgeous, naked woman stood in the backyard molding herself against him and wordlessly begging him to fuck her right there. Her mouth was magic. Soft, yielding yet demanding. She knew what she wanted. She wanted him. He’d never felt more desired, more needed.
But in the back of his sex-soaked brain there was a small voice that knew this was wrong. This wasn’t really Isabelle in his arms. Something had happened. Some thing bad. He had to think with his head, not with his dick. And that was going to be damned difficult to do given the circumstances, because she was crawling all over him and he was rock hard and ready to do whatever the hell she wanted.
But he finally drew enough strength to pull her arms away, jerk his mouth from hers. Oh, that mouth. Christ, she was sexy, her lips puffy and parted, her eyes druggingly half-lidded and sexy as hell. And of course, she was naked, and her body was perfection, from her full, pert breasts to her slender waist, curvy hips, and athletic legs.
He wanted her, wanted to be inside her, would have no problem throwing her down on the ground and doing it right there.
But he’d made that mistake once before. And it had cost Isabelle. He wasn’t going to let it happen again.
One of them had to have some common sense, and right now it sure as hell wasn’t the hot woman rocking against him.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, focusing only on her face. “Isabelle!”
She stared at him, almost right through him.
“Isabelle, wake up. Now.”
She blinked a few times, then frowned. “Dalton?”
She was coming back. He could almost see her eyes clear, as if a veil had been removed from them.
“Yeah. That’s it. Come on.”
He saw it then-the focus, the reality slip back into her eyes. She looked at him, around the yard, then down at herself, her gaze shooting back to him as she realized she was standing in the yard stark naked. “Oh, shit. Oh, God. Oh, my God, Dalton.” She wrenched away from him and covered herself. Dalton grabbed his discarded T-shirt from the ground and helped her put it on. She was wobbly, looked confused, so he slid his hand around her waist.
“Let’s go inside.”
He helped her into the house and toward the bathroom. The tub was filled with water, now cold. Isabelle stared into the water, then up at him.
Now he saw confusion soaking her features. He wanted to drag her into his arms and comfort her.
Really bad idea considering what had just happened. He kept his distance.
“I was taking a bath,” she said. “That’s all I remember until I found myself outside. With you.” She dragged her hands through her hair. “What did I do, Dalton? God, I’m drenched in sweat.”
What should he tell her? That she stalked out there naked and tried to have her way with him? He was pretty sure that’s not what she wanted to hear right now. She was emotionally fragile, barely holding it together. Telling her she’d stormed out into the yard bare-assed naked and tried to seduce him wasn’t going to help her.
Then again, she couldn’t help herself if she didn’t know the truth. And after everything, he owed her that.
“Let’s both get cleaned up, then we’ll talk,” he said.
She nodded. He turned to go but she grasped his forearm. “Don’t leave.”
He swallowed, but nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ll just rinse off in the shower. It won’t take me long.” She moved away from him, turned on the shower in the tiny stall, and with her back to him, pulled his T-shirt off and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.
Dalton leaned against the bathroom counter and tried to remind himself that Isabelle was in shock. Admiring the beauty of her naked body was the wrong thing to do in this situation. Thinking about anything having to do with her body was a bad idea. Watching her silhouette through the smoky glass shower door wasn’t helping his situation any, either. He decided the best course of action was to bend down and unlace his boots, then find Isabelle a towel.
He held it up for her as soon as she turned off the water and stepped out. She offered up a tentative smile and wound the thick fabric around herself.
“Thanks. Your turn now. Do you mind if I just hang in here while you shower?”
This was some kind of punishment for his misdeeds. “No, it’s fine. I won’t take long.”
He shucked his pants and turned the shower back on, hurried inside and closed the door, then buried his face under the water, concentrating on soap and washing, not on Isabelle. When he finished, he turned the water off, realizing he’d have to step out naked. He blew out a breath and opened the door. Isabelle was combing her hair. She stopped and stared as he walked by. He grabbed a towel in a hurry.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Good. I’m going to get some clothes. You going to be okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine now.”
Fine his ass. She gaped at him as if she was pondering licking him all over. Dalton was a man. He recognized sexual hunger in a woman. So did his body. He needed to get out of this bathroom-and fast, before things started to become … obvious.
“Great. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” He pivoted and went into his bedroom, shut the door, and blew out a breath. Christ, that had been difficult. What was with Isabelle? There had always been an attraction between them, but this was different. There was something powerful going on between them, and he was being counted on to be the strong one and resist.
Well, goddammit. He wasn’t that strong. Isabelle was beautiful, desirable. He’d wanted her from the beginning. Why was he required to be so fucking noble and push her away?
He grabbed a pair of shorts and a shirt and got dressed, then dragged his hands through his hair. It was time to figure out what was going on.
Isabelle was already in the kitchen, sitting at the tiny round table. Her hair hung in damp tendrils down her back. She looked up when he walked in. The hunger he’d seen earlier was gone. Now he saw only curiosity. Misery. Confusion. Those emotions wringing her dry made him feel like hell.
Great job thinking with your dick, Dalton.
“Thanks for the tea.” He pulled up a chair and took a long swallow.
“I figured you’d be thirsty. It was hot out there today. You need to replenish.”
He laid the glass down. “So do you.”
Her lips lifted. “It felt good to do something physical for a change. My muscles were atrophying from sitting around.”
“We still have a lot to do, so plan on working those muscles even more.”
“Good. I like physical work. Keeps my mind occupied on something other than myself.”
She was avoiding the topic. So was he. He wasn’t even sure how to bring it up.