every bit of it while he celebrated what he could do to her body. What they could do to each other.
It had never been like this with anyone else and it was like this with Isabelle every time.
She finally slumped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her breasts into his chest. “Wow. I can’t believe I went two weeks without that.”
He cupped her butt in his hands and buried his nose in her hair. “Babe, if that is vanilla sex, I’ve been eating all the wrong flavors up ’til now.”
She pulled back to look at him. And she wasn’t smiling.
Well, that wasn’t a good sign.
She chewed on her lips for a moment, watching him. Then she pushed her hair back from her face with both hands, and extricated herself from his lap, sliding to the floor and reaching for the shirt that was still spread out on the bar.
It was wet and sticky but she shrugged into it and buttoned it up as she turned to face him.
“I need to tell you something.”
Oh, boy. He did not like the feeling of trepidation her words brought on.
He slid off the stool. “I think I might need pants for this conversation.”
She bent to snag his sweats off the floor and tossed them to him.
Once he was covered, he propped his hands on his hips. “What do you need to tell me?”
She wet her bottom lip and his nerves kicked up another notch as she acted nervous.
“Iz,” he prompted.
She took a deep breath and he worked on breathing and not grabbing her and shaking it out of her.
Finally she looked up at the ceiling and blew out the breath, then she met his gaze directly, spread her arms wide and said, “Shane, I…knit.”
Chapter Three
Isabelle watched Shane’s expression change from one of unease to confusion.
“I don’t know what that means,” he finally said.
She sighed and pushed a hand through her hair. This wasn’t how she should have done this whole thing. This wasn’t how she’d planned to do this whole thing.
She’d been fine. She’d been down to one booty call a week. Then she’d snuck into that closet with him and he’d gotten his hands on her and they’d talked about sex. Sure, they’d talked about vanilla sex, but still…she’d been tingling ever since.
Even alone time in a broom closet was too much alone time to keep her head on straight. Dammit.
On her way home from Trudy’s, she’d decided she needed to get away. She was too befuddled here, surrounded by bad choices that were so tempting. She needed some peace and quiet far from Shane’s influence. Somewhere he couldn’t find her and make her forget all her good intentions. She’d decided to take her boss up on his standing offer for her to use his cabin in the Black Hills. It was eight hours away from Shane and Omaha. There was a hot tub and a workout room and a wine cellar. All she needed.
And she was taking all of the books about fibromyalgia that she’d bought right after that first doctor’s appointment with her. It was time to get a handle on this thing. She was done with the denial. She was done with the lying.
Right after she had one more taste of him. One more bite of the most amazingly rich and sinful cheesecake she’d ever had. Of course, what they’d just done was kind of like eating half the cheesecake without even coming up for a breath.
Still, the plan had been to climb right back in her car and go home afterward.
Not to confess everything. Not tonight.
But now the words were out there. Well, some of the words anyway. She wasn’t ready— he wasn’t ready—for her to tell him everything . The knitting would be enough to start with, like an appetizer to the whole seven-course what-the-hell-have-I-gotten-into-here meal she was going to eventually serve him.
“It means that I like to sit at home on the couch and knit.”
“Knit?” he repeated. “Like with yarn?”
She found herself actually smiling. Was he trying to rack his brain for a sex act that was referred to as knitting? “Yes, with yarn.”
“And