When Isabel finally spoke, her voice was sharper. “Where?”
“On the receipt in the kitchen.”
Another pause, heavier this time.
“That’s your idea of personal?” Isabel’s tone was a mix of disbelief and anger.
“It was what I had,” Victoria said flatly. She wanted to leave it there, wanted to close the subject and turn the conversation back to anything else, but Isabel didn’t let her.
“What did it say?”
Victoria hesitated, meeting her eyes across the space. There was something there — a flicker she couldn’t quite read — and the tension between them ratcheted up another notch. Shedidn’t want to admit it, hated the thought of saying the words aloud, but she did.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
The storm filled the silence that followed, the sound of the wind pushing the broken door open again, the hinges groaning. Victoria welcomed the distraction, moving to shove it closed and grabbing the nearest overturned chair to wedge behind it. She pressed the chair into place, making sure the door wouldn’t blow in again, and then turned?—
—and stopped.
Isabel was peeling her wet shirt over her head, leaving only a white tank and sports bra beneath, both plastered tightly to her skin. The thin fabric clung in every place it could, the outline of her muscles defined under the damp cotton, her nipples hard against the fabric from the cold.
Victoria’s throat went dry. She gulped, shivering — half from the cold that had settled into her bones, half from something far warmer.
Her own blouse clung like a second skin, heavy and clammy. She tugged it free from her waistband and pulled it over her head, the fabric sticking stubbornly in places before she tossed it toward the table to dry.
When she glanced sideways, Isabel was looking right at her.
The heat in that gaze landed low in Victoria’s belly, and for a heartbeat she thought Isabel was going to close the space between them. It was too much, too fast. She turned toward the window, staring out at the sheets of rain instead.
The silence stretched, thick and humming, until she heard Isabel’s voice just behind her, quiet but certain.
“You think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”
Victoria whipped around, ready to argue — and froze. Isabel was much closer than she’d thought, only a step away, the scent of rain and something warm curling between them.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Victoria said, her voice low.
Isabel stepped closer still, their breaths mingling in the narrow space. “Then tell me I’m wrong.”
Victoria’s pulse spiked hard, the storm raging outside nothing compared to the one gathering between them.
They stood there, inches apart, breathing the same air, the storm a muffled roar behind the thick tension between them, the heat from the argument and the proximity blurred the lines, until the only thing Victoria could think about was the shape of Isabel’s mouth.
When Isabel’s hand came up, brushing wet hair from her face, Victoria leaned in without thinking. The kiss landed hard — hungry, messy, teeth catching for a split second before melting into something deeper.
The rest happened fast. Isabel’s hands at her waist, tugging her closer. Victoria’s arms locking around her shoulders, pulling them together until there was no space left between them. The scrape of wet fabric shoved aside. The solid press of Isabel’s thigh. The low sound Victoria couldn’t hold back when Isabel’s mouth broke from hers to drag down her throat.
It was a collision — all the anger, all the wanting, tangled until neither could tell the difference.
Victoria fumbled with the belt on her pants and tried to shimmy out of them, but the soaked pant legs stuck to her skin. Isabel paused her stroking and grabbed the waistband of both Victoria’s underwear and her pants. In one swift move, she dragged them down, baring Victoria’s slick inner thighs to the cold. A shiver ran down her spine as she went to grab her own shirt.
Quickly, Isabel shot up and grabbed her hands, stopping her. She kissed Victoria again, and it wasn’t gentle. Her lips were rough and possessive as she devoured Victoria whole, while she slowly backed Victoria up toward the couch.
As the arm of the couch pressed into Victoria’s thighs, Isabel grabbed Victoria’s undershirt, dragging it over her head but stopping at her elbows. Swiftly, she did the same to Victoria’s bra, twisting it so Victoria’s arms were bound above her head. Victoria felt the cold air harden her nipples into rocks, begging to be touched.
She was completely bare in the small cabin. Her nakedness should have appalled her. Her arms being tied should have alarmed her, her movement being stopped by the arm of the couch leaving her completely at Isabel’s mercy. She’d never been more vulnerable, and it should have terrified her. Instead, liquid heat pooled between her legs. She was more turned on now than she’d ever had been in her life.
Isabel broke the kiss and moved her lips and teeth down Victoria’s neck, nipping and kissing down to her collarbone. With one hand holding her arms in place, Isabel used the other to knead Victoria’s breast as she slowly leaned her mouth down to the other. She started gently, teasing, but then suddenly Isabel bit down on Victoria’s nipple, eliciting a sharp and surprised moan. The dark chuckle Isabel loosened against her breast filled Victoria with need.
