Dirty Love (4 page)
Curiosity niggled at the back of Isy's mind, catching her off guard.
Something other than dinner?
Had Trevor finally gotten tired of hinting and decided to try something a little bolder than dinner to show his interest?
Considering her body's current state of confusion, it was better she didn't find out. Besides, she'd be otherwise occupied for the next few hours ... tending to the intimate needs of another man.
The memory of Connor leaning against the railing sent a ripple of dark yearning across Isy's skin.
Damn.
Okay, so what had seemed like a lucky break in retrospect wasn't much better. She'd handle Connor. And Trevor, if it came to that. She had to.
"Thanks for taking care of that bit of business for me.” She waved at Vicki, trying to keep her nervousness from showing in the swish of her fingers. “Have fun tonight."
Vicki grinned and practically skipped her way to the exit. Before she could reach the handle, the door flew open from the outside and Connor's powerful frame filled the doorway.
Highlighted against the backdrop of early evening sunlight, he looked massive and dangerous. Light enshrouded him, projecting a golden halo around his blond hair. His face remained hidden in shadow, but his blue eyes blazed as they stared across the room, catching Isy's gaze through the plastic slide-window barrier that separated the reception area from the rest of the waiting room.
The overall effect seemed eerie and momentous, giving Connor a wicked, almost otherworldly edge.
Isy fought back a shiver. There was something about Connor ... something behind the playful, easy banter he'd shown her earlier. Something altogether darker and more seductive than she'd imagined.
Vicki yelped and pressed an open palm to her heart. “Holy mother! You scared the shit out of me!"
"Sorry.” In a flash, the easy grin and nonchalant manner returned as though nothing else had ever lurked behind the surface. Connor winked at Vicki. “Got tired of waiting."
Unreasonable irritation streamed through Isy at the sight of that wink. “I thought you didn't even want to be here."
It took less than two seconds for Connor to cross the room, shove through the side door and come to stand beside Isy in the small reception area. “Are you sending me away, Isabel?"
Her breath caught in her throat, along with a healthy dose of twin scents of ocean and man. “I never told you my name."
A dimple flashed in his cheek as he offered a decadent smirk. “It's written on the sign outside the clinic. Isabel Warren, CFP. It's been a while since I've studied my abbreviations, but I believe that one stands for Certified Fertility Practitioner."
She barely heard a word past
Isabel
. Her name took on an exotic edge when it spilled from his lips.
Eee-sah-belle.
Isy shot a helpless look at Vicki, who'd already pulled the door midway shut. The younger woman mouthed the word
wow
and bit down on her bottom lip in pure feminine appreciation before closing it entirely behind her.
Yeah.
Isy knew that feeling. And while Vicki could drool all she wanted knowing she could have Connor if he turned out to be fertile, Isy had to keep all that desperate desire bottled up tight.
Her career was more important than a good fuck, anyway. She just had to remember that.
With a quick shake of her head, Isy turned away from Connor and strolled back into the waiting room. A bright blue door led to a narrow, no-frills examination room. Beyond it was Isy's lab, where she could analyze the test results herself without having to send them to an off-site facility.
She was gathering her courage to invite him inside the exam room, where it would be just the two of them in a tiny enclosed space, when warm flesh slid against her palm. She jumped and tried to yank her hand away, but Connor linked his fingers with hers and refused to let go.
"Relax, Isabel. I won't hurt you."
She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. “That's a lie, and we both know it. If I let you, you'll tear my life apart."
He seemed taken back by that. His brow furrowed. Leaning in close, he looked at her—really
looked
at her—as though seeing her for the first time. “Why are you so afraid of me?"
She could have lied. She
should
have lied. But the words spilled forth before she could stop them, and they felt right.
"Because you do something to me.” She pressed her hand to the butterflies swirling in her lower belly. “Here.” Her fingers drifted down to slide between her legs. She rubbed her pussy through the fabric of her suit pants before she could gain full control of her actions. “And here."
"Ah.” He didn't look surprised, or appalled, like she'd feared he would. But she felt his assessing gaze in every cell in her body. Energy hummed between them, hot and undeniable. “You brought me here. Say the word and I'll go."
Was he playing her again? He'd made it clear he didn't want to submit to the Board's testing practices, or to what came after a positive result. Still, could Isy let him turn around and walk out that door because he turned her on so much it scared her senseless?
No
.
Maybe
.
She didn't know.
While grappling with a flurry of emotions, Isy grabbed handfuls of Connor's T-shirt. The warmth of his skin tickled her fingertips and grazed her knuckles. Desperate hunger rose in her chest, making her yearn to touch him underneath the shirt, to twine the curls dusting his chest around her fingers and place soft kisses around his flat male nipples. Desire whipped through her with the force of a hurricane.
"Yes. No.” She shook her head, dizzy with arousal and confusion. She couldn't move away. Hell, she could barely breathe. “I want you to stay. I need you."
Isy flinched when she realized how sexually suggestive that sounded. She opened her mouth to take apologize, or to explain. She wasn't sure which.
That was just as well, because she never had the chance.
"I need you, too,” Connor said, and crushed her lips with his.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. This is sooooo wrong.
Right. Soooooooo right.
Isabel's lips parted in sweet surrender. The million reasons not to kiss Connor and the myriad doubts that had been swirling in her mind just seconds earlier fled the instant his tongue pressed against the seam of her lips. Emotions she hadn't felt in almost two decades tore through her, startling her into remembering what it felt like to want, to crave, to
need
someone with such desperation she was willing to lose everything for one more taste of him.
Panic tickled the back of her throat. It mingled with the other primal, animalistic feelings surging inside her, blending with lust and raw hunger. When Connor's tongue swept inside her mouth and brushed her own, Isy groaned. Her hands splayed across his chest, no longer fisted, but eagerly caressing the firm line of rock hard muscle beneath the fabric.
His arms came around her waist, pulling her close. She melted into his fierce embrace and let him kiss her with a single-mindedness that shouldn't have surprised her, but did. The hard thrust of his erection against her stomach caused a jolt of heat to zing into her cunt. She pressed her thighs together and rubbed herself wantonly against him.
"Isabel,” Connor whispered against her mouth. “Isabel."
She'd heard her name spoken a million times, but never before had the sound sent a wave of longing and desperate burning need through her system. She couldn't get enough. Connor kept murmuring the word like a mantra, hypnotic in its intensity.
His lips angled downward, trailing soft kisses across her jaw, her throat, pausing to nibble at an earlobe before moving down again. And still he kept saying her name, lulling her into a mesmerizing dream.
Because that's exactly what this had to be. A dream. A fantasy. At some point between stepping into the Brooklyn Community Theater and this moment, she'd left the real world behind. New York, with its harsh laws and the Medical Board's insistent demands, no longer existed. It had fallen away, dropping into shadow, someone else's problem now.
Only Connor existed in Isabel's world. Only his kiss. Only the feel of his hands as he caressed her back and cupped her ass. Only the sound of her name on his lips.
And the knock on the door.
Isy yelped and pulled back. Stars dotted her vision and her head swam. Euphoria made her skin tingle. She had the urge to lick her lips, to taste Connor again ... and again and again. She wanted to kiss him all day, all night, into oblivion and beyond.
Terror stopped her. When the knock came again, fear slammed into her chest with an abruptness that caught her off guard.
Connor looked as startled as she felt. They stood there for a moment, staring at each other. When he reached out to her, Isy pulled back and lifted a hand to stop him.
Not that she
could
stop him if he insisted on continuing what they'd started, but it was the only defense she had. God knew she couldn't trust her heart, or her own ability to deny him anything he wanted to take.
"No. Stay."
Fuck.
Had that been her voice? It had quivered, and worse yet, it had sounded husky and wanton. She cleared her throat. Another knock echoed through the empty clinic, louder this time.
Her heels tapped on the linoleum floor as she made her way to the front entrance on shaky legs. Sucking in a deep breath for courage and running a hand through her sleek locks, she pulled the door open.
"Hey. Glad I caught you."
Isy nearly sobbed. Trevor Jones stood on the top step, a bouquet of organic roses in his hand. The electric blue glitter on the petals and their enriched sweet scent marked them as biologically enhanced but naturally grown. And horribly expensive.
Pulling the door closed behind her, Isy stepped outside. Her heart threatened to pound out of her chest. Her lips tingled. She could still feel Connor's mouth on hers, devouring her, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy with each stolen kiss.
"Why are you here?” The question came out harsher than she'd intended, but she didn't apologize. The man had probably taken lessons in bad timing and achieved master status. “Vicki told you I wasn't available tonight."
Trevor's brows wrinkled. “She said you were working, but you have to eat, don't you?” He lifted a paper bag she hadn't noticed gripped in his other hand. “I brought take-out. Dim sum and sweet-and-sour chicken balls. Your favorite."
Oh, she wanted to run her tongue along some balls, all right, but they weren't made of chicken.
The absurdly inappropriate thought nearly made her laugh out loud. She held back the snort before it could escape, but Trevor must have noticed her amusement because he dropped his hand at his side. “I guess that's a no."
She sighed, and the hint of mirth vanished. There was obviously something very wrong with her.
Forty-four year old women didn't wantonly lust after younger, or older, men. They didn't lust. Period. Or at least, they weren't supposed to.
Ever since scientists had discovered what happened when women over forty coupled with a fertile man, there'd only been thirty-seven documented cases of such infractions. Of those, newspapers reported that thirty-two had been accidental. The rest, intentional. It didn't matter—they all ended the same way.
One time was all it took. Once a man spilled himself inside a woman past the magical age, he never ejaculated again. Ever. If he was fertile, then his ability to create life was also permanently obliterated.
Doctors couldn't explain how it happened. They assumed the virus was to blame for the appalling consequences of giving in to lust after a certain age. At first, older women had been called black widows, then praying mantises. Eventually, such names gave way to terms like hag, witch and crone.
Lately, in part thanks to Connor's play, people had taken to calling such intimate forbidden relationships “dirty love.” They whispered the term under their breath, as though referring to a contagious disease. Men guarded their crotches when they came within ten feet of an older woman—some by literally grabbing on and holding tight.
On good days, such ludicrous behavior amused Isy. On bad days, it horrified her.
Laws had been passed to prevent older women from becoming intimate with a fertile man. And when that didn't stop human nature from taking its course, the laws became more severe, until any woman past legal conception age could be fined or imprisoned if she was caught fornicating with a man.
Any
man.
The sanction got worse depending on the age of the lovers. Since younger males were considered to have greater potential for insemination, being caught with a man under the age of thirty carried the most severe penalty.
Isy had never been a risk taker. She couldn't chance being turned in for pursuing a relationship with Connor, but giving in to Trevor wouldn't be much better. The law was too strict to circumvent. At best, she'd lose her clinic. At worst, her freedom.
Isy ground her teeth, then forced herself to relax her jaw. Not for the first time, she wished she'd been born a century earlier. Life must have been so much simpler in the 1980s.
Damn.
Connor was sinful, but Trevor was no less tempting. He was thoughtful, intelligent, attractive. Very attractive, if she had to be honest.
Chiseled cheekbones and a sharp, angular jaw dominated a classically handsome face. Light eyebrows nearly blended into his tanned skin. Blue-gray eyes, faded in contrast to Connor's blazing sapphire, could make any woman melt under their scrutiny.
He kept his hair trimmed short, only about a quarter of an inch above his smooth scalp. The military style appeared to age some men. Not Trevor. Clean-shaven, he looked a decade younger than his forty-five years. His trim build and the effortless way his loose jeans hugged his lean hips added to the allure.
It would have been so easy to give in to his smooth seduction, yet she'd resisted. For weeks, she'd been pushing him away, coming up with excuse after excuse not to invite him inside. Not to be alone with him.
