“Maybe that’s why you work so hard to succeed.”
“Excuse me?”
“A lot of people look for approval in success.”
Her brows tilted in a slight frown. “Are you trying to psychoanalyze me now?”
He offered a slight laugh. “No. Believe me, I’d be no good at that. But I do enjoy trying to figure people out, what makes them do the things they do.”
“I wouldn’t even make an attempt to do that with me.”
“See? Now you’re being mysterious. And that intrigues me.”
The breeze blew tendrils of her hair across her cheek. She brushed them behind her ear. “There’s no mystery about me. I gave you my bio, my background. You know everything.”
He’d barely scratched the surface. And he found he wanted to know more. Much more than what this assignment called for. Isabelle was definitely a mystery. Beyond what she showed him on the surface was a pain that she couldn’t quite hide. It lingered just underneath her eyes, surfacing now and then.
She wasn’t as good at playing this game as she thought she was. And Dalton was a master at disguise.
He was going to enjoy putting together the pieces of this puzzle.
“You’re staring.”
He blinked. “Was I?”
“Yes.”
“Does that bother you?”
“It depends on the reason.”
“I was staring because the moonlight makes your hair shine like spun gold, because your eyes light up when you talk, and because that dress molds to you like a second skin. I can’t seem to help but stare.”
She inhaled, the swell of her breasts more pronounced as she did.
Dalton waved his hand and Dimitri reached under the bar and turned on the stereo. Music filled the deck and Isabelle tilted her head back and laughed.
Under the lights, her hair glistened. She’d left it down, and it spilled over her breasts. Tonight she wore a well-fitting sundress, low-cut and revealing a lot of cleavage.
Dalton tried to concentrate on her face, but his gaze kept dipping down. After too many drinks and not enough food today, he was in trouble, and his libido wanted to take over. And Isabelle wasn’t making him think like a Boy Scout.
He was no angel, after all.
Yeah, he was definitely no angel. And the more time he spent with Isabelle, the more his thoughts wandered to less-than-angelic areas. The woman was sinfully seductive and compelling to his dark side. And God knew he had a dark side.
The upbeat rock song ended and a slow, seductive one started up.
“Ah, now this is the kind of music I’m in the mood for,” Isabelle said, pushing back her chair to stand. She looked down at him with a seductive stare. “Let’s dance.”
Oh, shit. He was supposed to play the part of suave, debonair playboy millionaire. He supposed turning tail and hiding in his room wouldn’t cut it. He’d turned her down last night. He couldn’t do it again.
He didn’t want to do it again. A man only had so much restraint.
Dalton had been restrained for too long. As long as he’d been with the Realm of Light, he’d toed the line, done everything right, never once walked on the wild side. He’d never once touched a woman in all that time.
Too long. Much too long. So why now, and why with Isabelle?
He gave up trying to figure it out.
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
Story of his life, wasn’t it?
He stood and moved out onto the deck, holding his palm out. When she laid her hand in his, he felt the slight electrical current sizzle through his veins and knew he was doomed.
The bad part was, he didn’t think he cared. This was his assignment, after all-to get close to Isabelle so he could figure her out and learn her secrets. It was a job, his duty, and nothing more. As long as he remembered that, didn’t let emotion into the picture, he’d be fine.
He pulled her against him, her breasts pillowed against his chest.
Get close to Isabelle, Lou had said. Well, he was close to her now, wasn’t he?
She laid her head against his chest and he moved her around the deck, giving a slight nod to Dimitri, who dimmed the deck lights and made himself scarce. Thank God for the discretion of Realm staffers like Dimitri and the rest of the crew. They asked no questions and followed orders well. The rest of the hands had gone below for the night, exhausted from spending a day in the sun and water.
Now it was just the two of them, the slow, rhythmic music.
And his own wayward thoughts.
He should be thinking about the mission. Instead, he thought about how good she felt in his arms, how soft her skin was, how her hair smelled like strawberries and whether she noticed-or cared-that his dick was hardening against her hip.
He also thought about how tired he was of walking down the road of goodness and light.
“Are you a bad girl, Isabelle?” he asked, voicing his innermost thoughts. Then again, maybe it was wishful thinking.
She tilted her head back and he fought for breath. Silvery light cascaded over her features. Her eyes lit up with swirling, mysterious colors, her full lips quirked with a smile that could only be a product of the devil himself.
“Do you want me to be?”
He was drowning in her, and he didn’t think he wanted to be saved.
“Maybe I do.”
Her tongue snaked out and licked along her bottom lip.
Invitation came knocking, and he answered, dipping down for a taste of the forbidden fruit. He cupped the back of her neck and brushed her lips, savoring the taste of wine and something more exotic. He parted them, pressed deeper, slid his tongue inside, and his world spun. She moaned and he crushed her against him, deepening the kiss.
Isabelle’s arms wound upward, sliding into his hair, her nails digging into his scalp. The pain felt good. It made him feel alive, as if he’d spent years wandering in a fog and she’d just awakened him to wonders he’d only dreamed about.
He splayed his arms across her back and down, memorizing every curve, grasping her buttocks in his hands and squeezing her flesh, drawing her against the rockhard, throbbing part of him.
He pulled back, rocking his pelvis against her. “I want inside you. Now.” He didn’t know whose voice that was. He’d growled that statement like an animal in heat. What was wrong with him?
Isabelle surged upward, biting down hard on his lower lip. He tasted his own blood. Didn’t care.
“Yes. Now,” she said, her own voice hoarse with need.
He scooped her up in his arms and stalked down the hall to her room. She turned the handle and he toed the door open, using his heel to slam it closed. He could see just fine in the dark so he didn’t bother with turning the light on. Instead, he deposited her on her feet near the foot of the bed and took her mouth again, seeking more of her spicy flavor.
He’d bet she’d taste just as good all over. He grasped the straps of her sundress and pulled them over her shoulders, dragging them down her arms, tearing his lips away from her mouth to follow the trail of her scent. Musky, primal, it called to him like a siren beckoning. He kissed her throat, lingering at the wildly pumping pulse at her neck for a few seconds, but compelled to move to her shoulder, her collarbone, then lower as he continued to drag the dress down, baring her to her waist.