Isaia: Chapter 13

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up and walk,” he demands.

I pull back, but Isaia’s hand tightens, his eyes never meeting mine as he forces me to walk beside him.

There’s a yellow Ferrari parked in front of us, and with one swift movement, Isaia reaches and grabs the handle. He opens the door in a smooth, controlled motion, his other hand still holding me firmly. His grip never loosens, even as he pulls the door open wider. “Get in.”

“What? I’m not going anywhere with you,” I spit back, bravado cloaking my trembling beneath its deceitful warmth. His eyes flash murderously, and he crowds me against the sleek car, every inch of him radiating an undeniable threat.

He yanks me close before crowding me against the sleek car, his eyes flashing murderously as he snarls. “I said. Get. In.”

A surge of tension coils in my chest, but I keep myself steady, meeting his glare head-on. “Fine,” I bite out, and with his firm grip still on my arm, he watches me slide into the passenger seat, his jaw tight, eyes blazing as he shuts the door with a heavy finality.

He’s around the front in seconds, slipping into the driver’s seat and starting the engine without a word.

The low, throaty roar of the Ferrari fills the silence between us, and he throws the car into gear, speeding off before I even have a chance to fasten my seatbelt. My hand tightens on the leather seat, but I keep my gaze fixed ahead, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me falter.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell this is about?” I ask, keeping my tone steady.

His jaw tics, but he doesn’t look at me. “I don’t like games, Everly.”

“Games? You’re the one dragging me into your car, practically kidnapping me.”

He scoffs. “Don’t tempt me.”

The Ferrari surges forward as he steps harder on the gas, the city lights blurring into streaks of color outside the window. My stomach lurches with each sharp turn, but I force myself to keep still, my hands gripping the seat to keep from reaching for anything that might steady me.

“Isaia, what’s going on?”

He finally glances over, his eyes dark, unreadable. “You’re lying to me.”

“What? I’m not lying.”

“I saw you in that restaurant with him.”

“Who? Michele?”

“What was it? Time for your weekly check-in?”

I shift, angling myself to face him, my jaw tight. “Are you following me?”

He casts me a glance before turning his focus back to the road. One hand leaves the wheel, his elbow propped against the door as his fingers trail along his jaw. His silence screams his admission.

“Oh, my God. This is unbelievable,” I huff, crossing my arms. “I was having dinner with my mother when he showed up. It was an ambush. I didn’t know he’d be there.”

He glances at me for a second. “Don’t lie to me, Everly.”

“I’m not lying, Isaia. Jesus Christ.” I pull a hand through my hair, emotions grabbing me. “I hate that man. I hate him so much I can almost fucking taste it.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s trying to ruin my life!” I yell, tears finally slipping down my face. “And he won’t stop. He won’t fucking stop! Using my mother…her cancer⁠—”

“Your mom has cancer?”

“Yes.” I wipe my cheeks. “That’s why we had this stupid dinner, to talk about it. But then he showed up, and I realized my mother…” I swallow the bitterness of it. “That she tricked me.” The deceit slices deeper. “I’m not working with him, Isaia. I swear it.”

There’s a brief silence before he asks, “What did he want?”

“To talk.”

“About?”

“They want me to go back to New York.” I nervously weave my fingers together in my lap.

He glances at me. “Why?”

“Isaia, please. I don’t want to talk about it. Not tonight.” Exhaustion sets in, maybe a little despair, too. When it does, the anger fades, and I dissolve into my seat a little too willingly.

The car stops, and we’re outside my house. I don’t even know how we got here so fast, and I’m still trying to process everything when my door is jerked open, and he’s grabbing my arm, pulling me out.

“You’re hurting me.” I try to twist free, but his grip is iron as he drags me up the steps.

“Open the door,” he demands, and a sliver of courage rakes up my spine.

“I’m not opening this door until you leave.”

He lets out a hollow laugh, shaking his head before shoving me back against the door. “Open the fucking door, Everly.” The intensity in his eyes pulls a knot of nerves tight in my stomach, and I can barely breathe as I hear Luna’s frantic barking from inside, mirroring the wild pounding of my heart.

Swallowing, I turn to face the door, and Isaia doesn’t move an inch, his chest hard against my back. His breath skims over my neck as I slide the key into the lock, and I feel him lean in closer, hear the deep inhale like he’s smelling me, savoring me.

I freeze, my blood running cold, but something darker pulses beneath it. Lust. Raw and consuming, twisting through my veins like venom, fighting every ounce of my common sense. He doesn’t touch me, but I feel his presence in every nerve, every heartbeat like he’s already claimed me. Like I’m already his.

The lock clicks open, and I start to move, desperate to break the tension, but his hand covers mine on the doorknob, his other arm rising to brace against the doorframe above, boxing me in, trapping me between him and the wood.

“You’re trembling,” he rasps against my ear.

“Because you’re scaring me.”

“You sure that’s it?”

Heat swirls deep in my core, my breath coming faster as his words settle over me, thick with intent. I swallow, trying to find my voice, but it’s lost somewhere in the ache he’s left in its place.

“Please move,” I whisper, though it’s the last thing I want, and he knows it. I can feel his smirk without seeing it, his hand tightening against the doorframe. And for a dangerous second, I don’t know if I want him to let me go—or to pull me deeper into his dark hold.

He lingers, and I’m holding my breath as he finally inches back, letting go.

The door swings open, and Luna barrels out, her tail wagging wildly as she noses my ankles. I step inside, a shaky wave of relief washing over me as I bend to pet her, but Isaia follows, closing the door with a quiet finality. His presence looms behind me, his gaze heavy, a reminder that whatever this is between us, it’s nowhere near finished.

I straighten, meeting his gaze head-on. “I’d offer you a drink, but I save those for invited guests only.”

“Bourbon,” he replies, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over the couch.

“I don’t have bourbon.”

“Yeah, you do. Bottom cabinet.”

Disbelief flares as I stomp to the kitchen, open the cabinet, and stare at the sealed bottle. “You were in my house?”

He doesn’t answer, only leans against the wall, raising a dark brow.

“What are you playing at? Following me. Breaking into my house.” I glance at Luna, now happily sitting at his feet. “How did you get past my dog?”

With maddening calm, he pulls a treat from his pocket and drops it in front of her.

“Wow.” I cross my arms, giving Luna an exasperated look. “Really? A treat?”

“We need to talk,” Isaia says, his tone clipped.

“No.” I grab the bourbon and shove it against his chest. “You need to leave.”

He drops the bottle, his hand shooting out to grab my arm, spinning me right into him. In one swift movement, he backs me up until my spine meets the cool edge of the kitchen counter. My breath hitches as he reaches down, his hands beneath my ass, and in one fluid motion, he lifts me, settling me on the counter, his body pressed between my thighs, leaving no space between us.

I gasp as he weaves his hand through my hair, pulling back, causing me to crane my neck. “You’re fucking with my head, Everly, and I don’t like it.”

“I’m changing the locks.”

“Put on all the locks you want.” His gaze falls to my mouth. “It won’t keep me out if I want in.”

“You can’t⁠—”

His mouth crashes against mine, abrupt and hungry, his free hand gripping my hip with a bruising intensity that sends a jolt of heat through me.

His lips are rough, demanding, and there’s a desperate edge to the way he devours me—a dark, unrelenting ferocity that makes my breath hitch. But then his fingers thread through my hair, and his grip softens, a jarring contrast that makes my pulse race.

God, his taste—bourbon and sin, intoxicating and lethal. It floods my senses, leaving my head spinning and my resolve crumbling. His tongue glides against mine, every flick precise, deliberate, and when a low growl rumbles deep in his chest, it feels like he’s staking a claim.

Each touch, each movement, pulls me deeper under his control. His hands, rough and possessive, hold me firmly, their bruising grip anchoring me even as I feel like I’m unraveling. His mouth moves with a relentless rhythm, stealing my breath, my thoughts, my everything.

The world fades, narrowing to this—his taste, his touch, the heat of his body against mine. Coherent thought slips away, replaced by a throbbing ache that consumes me, a need so fierce and overpowering it blots out everything else.

“Isaia,” I breathe, but he pulls me closer, his kiss deepening, and I gasp when he cups my breast, desire spiraling wildly.

Every inch of me pulses under his touch. It’s too much… and, somehow, nowhere near enough.

His thumb circles over the hardened peak, pulling a desperate moan from my lips.

“Keep making that sound and I’ll make sure you’re still feeling me tomorrow,” his hand drops between my legs, “right fucking here.”

Pleasure hits me, sharp and overwhelming, and my world tilts, spinning out of control. My fingers dig into his shoulders, clutching him as if he’s the only thing keeping me grounded, the only anchor in the storm he’s unleashed.

“Isaia, I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me you need me. How deep you want it.” His teeth graze my throat and my breath hitches.

“I…um…”

His fingers trace along the edge of my panties then push them to the side. “Jesus, Everly. You’re so fucking wet, my cock’s aching to slide into you.”

A finger prods at my entrance, and my body starts to sing under his touch, needing it inside me. “Isaia, this is…Oh, God…I’ve never done this before.”

He freezes, his fingers still right there, his eyes locked on mine with vibrating intensity. “What?”

Embarrassment floods me, and I swallow. “I’ve never…”

“Fucked?”

I bite my bottom lip, nodding, and he inches back a little, removing his hand from between my legs. I’m sure he’s about to laugh or turn and leave. A man like Isaia knows what he wants, and he can get it anywhere, with whoever, wherever. There’s no shortage of women for a man of his status; no denying he’s accustomed to a level of experience I can’t provide.

My heart stumbles, bracing for rejection, when he leans in and kisses me—slow and utterly devastating. His lips move against mine like he’s memorizing the shape of them, like he’s savoring every second. It’s not rushed or frantic; it’s controlled, intense, and so consuming it steals the air right out of my lungs, and my body aches everywhere as he reaches under my dress, hooking his fingers in the sides of my panties.

“Lift your hips for me.”

I’m barely able to breathe as I do what he says.

Slowly, he slides my panties down…down… his fingertips grazing my skin, leaving a trail of fire until the lace slips to the floor.

“Lay back.”

My pulse races. “What are you⁠—”

“Do it. All the way back,” he murmurs, firm but low.

I tremble, leaning back, the counter’s cool surface pressing against me. His hands find my ankles, guiding them apart, bending my knees, placing my feet on the counter, all while his lips leave soft, lingering kisses along the inside of my knee, trailing higher, driving me mad.

My breath quickens as he gently eases my thighs open. “Everly, has anyone tasted you”—his fingertip slides down my slick folds—“here?”

A strangled gasp escapes me. “No,” I whisper.

His warm breath caresses my thighs as he murmurs, “You’re going to make this so easy for me, aren’t you?” There’s the barest touch of his tongue against my pussy. “To blow your fucking mind.”

Without warning, his tongue sweeps through my slit, warm and velvet, igniting sparks everywhere as a moan rips from my chest.

My fingers grasp the cool marble, nails scraping as I arch beneath his touch, helpless against the rush of sensation. “Isaia…Oh, God.”

He guides my legs over his shoulders, savoring each taste, and I convulse as he flicks the tip of his tongue over my clit, a pulse of pleasure ricocheting through me like an electrical storm.

My fingers knot in his hair, holding him close, my body writhing beneath his mouth as the intensity builds, white-hot and consuming.

His hands grip my hips, fingers digging in—not to stop my movements, but to control them, setting the rhythm, like he knows exactly what I need.

A moan echoes from my lips when I feel his tongue prod against my entrance, dipping in, teasing. Every thrill, every nerve ending fires too sharply, too fast, and I try to pull back, but Isaia keeps me there.

“Take it.” His mouth moves faster, relentlessly, his lips and tongue working me until I’m gasping, shuddering.

I’m breathless as I try to speak, “S-stop…it’s too…too much…” But he doesn’t let up. Instead, he slips his hands under my ass, pressing his fingers into the soft flesh, lifting my hips, squeezing me harder against his mouth.

“Isaia, I’m going to…” The words dissolve into a strangled cry as a wave of ecstasy crashes over me, consuming every thought, every breath. It’s heat and lightning, every nerve in my body set alight. The pleasure doesn’t just ripple, it surges, pulling me under in waves so powerful I can’t control it.

My thighs shake, my chest heaves, and the coiled tension snaps, leaving me trembling and utterly undone—like every piece of me has shattered and reformed in his hands.

“Jesus, woman.” He takes my arm, pulling me up, and the fierce hunger in his eyes steals the breath from my lungs, his mouth glistening. “You have no idea, do you? How fucking beautiful you are when you fall apart like that.”

His hand fists in my hair, tugging gently but firmly enough to tilt my head back, exposing my throat, and I shiver when lips brush over the sensitive skin there, featherlight, before he nips the spot.

“I know about Club Myth,” I murmur, and I’m sure I can feel him smile against my skin. “I’m not like the girls you’re used to.”

“And that makes me want you even more.” He kisses the hollow just beneath my throat. “You have no idea what it feels like to take a cock deep between your legs. The stretch. The pressure. The way your body starts begging for it deeper…harder…faster, until everything fades and all that’s left is that raw, desperate need for release.” His voice is a blade, cutting into me, stripping me bare.

“I want inside you, little troublemaker. You have no idea.” His teeth graze my neck again, not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a promise. “But I want you to beg me for it first.”

My pulse stutters, my breath hitching as he pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes molten, dark with hunger and something deeper, something that makes my stomach flip. His thumb brushes over my bottom lip, his touch almost reverent, as though he’s holding himself back by the thinnest thread.

“And when you do,” his thumb traces my jaw, “I’ll ruin you, sweet girl—take you apart piece by piece until every moan, every cry, is mine.”

The dark promise stirs something in me—something wicked, carnal, like he somehow latched on to the deepest, most unspoken parts of me and made them his.

He steps back, leaving me breathless and trembling, every nerve in my body alight, every ounce of me aching for more. Before I can respond, before I can pull him back or push him away, he smirks, wicked and knowing, and turns toward the door.

“Lock it,” he tosses over his shoulder, the command sharp and undeniable, leaving me there, bare and undone, with his absence cutting deeper than it should.