Cherish Hard
Page 40

Martha pressed a noisy kiss on Catie’s cheek. “Cheeky girl.”
“Lies. Look at me—I’m shining my halo.”
Grinning at the obvious affection between the two, Sailor left Martha to her call—the other woman decided to stay outside in the balmy summer night while the rest of them went in.
Catie’s home had plenty of open space and lots of glass to let in light, but—as Catie had pointed out so helpfully back at the hospital—it had only a single spare bedroom. And the couch looked to be some sort of medieval torture device.
“Oh dear,” Ísa said, looking at it, then looking at Sailor. “I’ll take the couch.”
Sailor, his hands on his hips, just shook his head. “No way, spitfire. Even you wouldn’t fit on that.”
They both looked at the torturously architectural thing with curved wooden arms; not only did it look hellaciously uncomfortable, it was barely wide enough to accommodate two seated adults. Forget about even a small person who wanted to stretch out.
“Catie!” Ísa called out. “What’s with the couch?”
Catie, whom Ísa had already ensconced in her bedroom, tucking her in with kisses and hugs, called back, “Dad sold it! He said it wasn’t up to his standards of style!”
Folding her arms, Ísa tapped her foot on the carpet. “I bought that couch,” she muttered. “In fact, I furnished most of this house. I couldn’t trust Clive with the money. Speaking of which, where the hell did he get the money for this thing? Anything this uncomfortable must’ve been expensive.”
Another glance at Catie’s bedroom, Ísa’s volume soft when she said, “It was probably gambling winnings. Every so often, Clive hits it big, and that gives him just enough encouragement to keep going.”
Sailor ran his hand down her back. The idea of leaving his child and going off to gamble was alien to him—he never even left his kid brothers alone when he was in charge of them—but he knew there were men like that. He and Gabe had spent their whole lives fighting to prove themselves a different breed, more akin to the man who’d raised them than the man who’d sired them.
While Gabe had long ago conquered his demons, Sailor’s still howled.
“Come on,” he said, “let’s go check out the spare bedroom.”
Ísa knew which room was Martha’s, so they skipped that. Next to it was Clive’s, the door open.
Ísa took one look inside and backed off with her hands raised in front of her. “I’d feel weird sleeping in there. He is technically my stepfather. Ex-stepfather.”
“That would be weird,” Sailor agreed. “And I don’t feel right sleeping in the bed of some random dude. Especially one who puts black satin sheets on his bed.” He scratched his jaw. “I bet they’re slippery.”
“I don’t want to think about it.”
Together, they opened the door of the third and final bedroom. It proved to be neat and tidy, with what looked like a king-sized bed made up with white cotton sheets. “It’s big enough to share,” Sailor said.
Ísa looked up at him through her lashes. The tips of her ears began to go pink.
His entire body humming in reaction, Sailor leaned down to whisper against one adorable ear. “We can carry on from our session in the water.” He ran his hand down the lush curve of her rear. “To jog your memory, it involves a deliciously nude redhead in my arms.”
23
Sizzle and Orgasm
A RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN US WOULD never work,” Ísa blurted out, terrified of how fast she was falling for this gorgeous, driven man. The way he’d been with Catie, it was exactly how she’d imagined the man of her dreams would be with her baby sister. Comfortable, affectionate, amazing.
Catie was already half in love with him.
Just like Ísa.
“Why not?” he asked with a black scowl. “Are you still hung up on the age thing?”
“You’re twenty-three. I’m ready to settle down, have a child, build a life with someone.”
Tipping up her chin, he pressed his nose to hers. “Yeah? And who’s this perfect man you’re going to dump me for?” It was a growl of sound.
Ísa scowled back at him. “I haven’t met him yet.”
“So you’re dumping me for an imaginary man?”
“You’re deliberately misunderstanding.” She glared. “How am I supposed to find him when I’m with you?”
A shrug. “I don’t care. I’m not going to cooperate in your dump-Sailor-for-an-imaginary-man scheme.”
“You’re infuriating.” Fisting her hands in his hair, she kissed him, releasing all her fear, all her need, all her worry.
His hands powerful and warm at her hips, he pulled her up against the hard length of his body and met her tongue lash for lash.
Heart pounding when it was over, she broke the kiss—and he said, “Want to hear my suggestion?”
“No.” She folded her arms and drew her eyebrows together.
“Too bad.” A kiss on the nose again, the affectionate act smashing her walls to tiny fragments. “I say we don’t run, we don’t hide. We try.” No laughter in his expression now, only a passionate tenderness. “I’m no poet, Ísa. I can’t give you fancy words. But I know what we have is special. It’s worth a fight.”
Ísa had never backed down from a fight in her life. But this fight could well leave her bloodied and broken at the end. But her heart, her traitorous heart, it wouldn’t let her walk away. Because what she felt for Sailor, it was a shooting star and an incandescent candle flame. “What,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, “were you saying about a deliciously nude redhead?”
A slow, sinful smile. “Sexiest woman I’ve ever met. Heartbreaker curves and skin like moonlight.”
And that was how Ísa found herself getting ready for bed in the bathroom attached to the guest bedroom, with Sailor doing the same in the bedroom itself. Devil Ísa had hissed at her to strip in front of him, but she had her limits.
She’d told Sailor they’d work up to nudity.
After kissing her until her toes curled, he’d said, “I’ll enjoy unwrapping my redhead.”
Her thighs clenched as she pulled on the large T-shirt she’d borrowed from her grinning sister, the soft fabric covering her panties and hitting her mid-thigh.
And she was dressed.
Ready to be unwrapped.
Stepping out of the bathroom, she caught Sailor in the process of throwing his jeans onto a chair that already held his T-shirt, his only covering white boxer briefs. That body… it made her want to whimper. He was all ridges and valleys and smooth golden skin and a tight butt that she wanted to bite. After she’d licked her way around his tattoos.
God, what was happening to her? Ísa Rain didn’t have thoughts like that.
Except, it seemed, when it came to Sailor Bishop.
Turning around to face her, Sailor whistled. “Spitfire, you make that innocent T-shirt look indecent.”
Ísa might’ve been unsure how to take those words if Sailor’s body hadn’t been making it blatant exactly what he thought of hers, the ridge of his erection pressing demandingly against the front of his briefs.
She sucked in a hungry breath.
And he began to stalk her.