Taken (Second Sight) (2 page)

But she wasn’t giving up so easily. Something had passed between him and Ben, something that had quickly ended the meeting.

“What was Ben talking about?” she asked. Still nothing. Just the unending stare and a silence that seemed to stretch forever. “
Damn it, Mac,
” Isabelle implored, trying to shake him but not moving him at all. “
Please
, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Read me,” he said.

Now she did back up, stumbling a couple of steps.

“
What?
” she gasped.

He took his hands off his hips and extended one to her.

“Take off your glove and touch me.”

Isabelle’s gift of psychometry had been a gift and curse her entire adult life. To lay her hands on people meant that she would know their thoughts and see into their past. Not a single relationship had survived her touch and, even if it meant she’d have to wear gloves all day, every day, she had no intention of losing Mac.

“Mac, we’ve been
through
this.”

“Why ask me when you can know everything?” he said, stepping toward her. She immediately stepped back and clasped her hands in front of her chest. “You can’t wear them forever,” he said, stepping forward again as she continued to back up. “You know you can’t.”

What was that in his face? Pain?
Anger?

“Why are you doing this?” she blurted out. “You don’t have to do this!”

“Apparently I do,” he said, walking forward again, reaching his hand to her. She backed up again, stumbling, but catching herself. “Haven’t I said that I loved you?” he asked. “That I won’t leave you? Not for a second?”

“Yes!” she yelled, feeling panic start to rise.
 

“Then why can’t you
believe
that?” he said, taking another step.

Though Isabelle tried to step back, she collided with the wall, felt the light switch in her back and the corner of the hallway that led to the bedroom. Mac stopped advancing but thrust his hand in front of her.

“I
do
believe it,” she yelled, staring at his hand. “I do!” She pressed her back to the wall and looked up into Mac’s face. But it betrayed nothing–not even his desire for the reading. She gaped at the impassive face. The reading wasn’t the issue. Something had happened–between him and Ben–something that had turned Mac to ice, to the man who stood in front of her. “By god,” she muttered, as she unclasped the closure on one of her gloves. “
I’ll do it
,” she snapped, as Mac’s gaze suddenly shifted down to her hands and his eyebrows shot up. It was the first sign of emotion she’d seen since they’d left Ben’s office. Then, as Mac’s mouth opened in astonishment, Isabelle froze.

Though her glove was already halfway off, a million thoughts rushed through her mind.

How did we come to this
so soon
?

What is happening?

I can’t undo this.

It could be the end.

And before she knew what she was doing, she quickly shook her head.

“
No
,” she whispered, shakily. “I won’t. Not like this. I
can’t
.”

As she tugged the fabric back up to her wrist, Mac closed the distance between them and grasped both wrists in his hands.

“The day will come,” he said, his voice growling and low as he raised her hands up between them, “when you’ll want it.” His blue-green eyes smoldered with the same intensity as his voice. “You’ll want it more than I do,” he said, as he slowly moved her hands over her head and pinned them to the wall. “It’ll be so bad you can taste it,” Mac said, his eyes drifting down to her mouth. “And when that day arrives,” he whispered hoarsely, “and that last barrier falls.” He paused and looked into her eyes. “You’ll finally
know
how much I love you.”
 

Then his mouth engulfed hers.

• • • • •

For a split second, Mac had truly thought Isabelle would read him and, to his surprise, he’d had a moment of doubt. Though he craved the reading, wanted her to be free of the gloves, he couldn’t know how she would react to the memory of Lynn–and how Ben’s plan played into his darkest fears.
 

But then the opportunity had slipped away and, as disappointment and relief mingled, the nearness of her was too much. He captured her mouth in a bittersweet fervor that demanded her lips respond. She had been
so
close to reading him–had almost done it. Mac knew she wanted it, but now, in her lips, he felt it too. They throbbed under his, pulsing with life. Their warm press slid sensually across his, parting quickly, the invitation impossible to misread. His tongue plunged into her, stroked her mouth repeatedly, and claimed it as his.

Isabelle sucked him inward and Mac found his chest pressing into hers, his hands still wrapped around the wrists over her head. He pressed forward, tilting his head one way and then the other, his kiss voracious, unrelenting, and his appetite for her only growing.

Slow down
, he told himself.
Not so hard.

But the pent-up anger at the risk Isabelle had offered to take–a prospect he couldn’t even
consider
–only drove him harder. He kissed her deeply, absorbing her very essence, and demanding that she offer more. In response, her lithe body arched into him. Though he left one hand covering both her wrists, his other quickly moved to the small of her back and crushed her to him. Her pelvis pulsed under his hand and her abdomen ground directly on his growing arousal. The connection was electric, a surging jolt that immediately stiffened him.

• • • • •

Whatever Isabelle had released in Mac she didn’t know but she struggled to keep up. Over and over his lips devoured hers, savage in their intensity. His tongue thrust so deeply her jaw had to drop and, though she dragged in air through her nostrils, her lungs burned.
 

Mac was on fire and Isabelle didn’t know
what
to think.

But without thought, her body responded to his, desperate for the intimacy she’d just denied them. She’d
wanted
to read him, even
needed
it, but the risk of losing him…

Mac’s arousal jabbed into her abdomen and he ground it against her, pinning her hips to the wall. His powerful frame towered over her, his mounded pecs straining inside the buttoned shirt and pressing into her. Blood pounded in her ears and her lungs felt as though they might burst as she writhed against him.
 

He let go of her wrists so quickly that it took a few moments for her to realize it but, as she did, she felt him tugging the zipper at the back of her dress down. Though her hands moved to his tie, she felt the zipper catch. Without hesitation, Mac’s arms bulged at her sides and he ripped the dress open. Isabelle gasped in shock as their mouths separated. Her chest heaved as she watched Mac tear the shoulder straps and drag the torn fabric over her hips and down to the floor, along with her panties. The bra was next and in moments it dangled from her elbow because, stunned, she still held onto his tie. In one smooth move, Mac leaned into her, swung her up into his arms, and strode toward the bedroom.
 

• • • • •

Only when Mac tossed Isabelle onto the bed did she let go of his tie. He immediately ripped the damn thing off and threw it across the room. As he looked at her naked on the comforter, her soft flesh vulnerable, her swollen lips parted in shock, his arousal painfully throbbed.
 

He ripped his shirt open, buttons flying in every direction, pinging off the wall as Isabelle’s amber eyes widened. The belt, pants and briefs were next and he flung them to the floor. With Isabelle on the pill, Mac didn’t pause for the condom. In moments, he followed her to the bed, mounted her and sank himself home.

Her back arched with the quick penetration and a sharp gasp escaped her.
 

Slow down
, Mac thought again.

But, propped up on his hands and looking down the length of her body–bare, beautiful, voluptuous–there was no way he could slow down. The resistant flesh at her entrance tugged at him and he thrust into her again. She lifted her body to him as he plunged inside, the hot glide of her moist flesh directly on the skin of his shaft. The feeling was incredible but instead of slaking his need, it only compounded it.

I will not lose you,
he thought, as he drove into her forcefully and deeply.

Isabelle moaned in short harsh gasps, as her gloved hands moved to his hips and he buried himself deep inside her yet again. She pulled him hard, her hips rising to meet his, as they thudded together. A chain of possessive thrusting erupted as Mac pounded into her, again and again. He surged deeper and harder, reaching for the very core of her, for that place where they were completely joined. She grunted with his efforts and brought up her knees to accommodate him.

“
Isabelle
,” he whispered hoarsely. “I won’t lose you.”

To his surprise, she opened her eyes and stared into his. Her hands went to each side of his face. He paused then, their heaving breaths mingling, his swollen flesh completely sheathed within her.
 

“You can’t,” she gasped breathlessly. “Not ever.”

Not ever
, he thought. A familiar ache bloomed in his chest and, though he slowly shook his head, he tried to smile.

“That’s not true, Isabelle,” he said quietly, as he lowered himself to his elbows. He lightly brushed the hair at her temples aside, gazed down at her parted lips, and then looked back into her eyes. “
God
, I wish it was.”

Her eyebrows knit together for a moment.

“But–”

Quickly, he covered her mouth with his. He didn’t want to hear anymore. His lips willed her to feel the depth of his love, even though he knew she wouldn’t. And finally Mac realized that, though Isabelle was wrong, so was he. He couldn’t possess her, not truly, not in the way he wanted–not until the threat hanging over her was gone. His mouth caressed hers now, no longer insistent, but needing to absorb everything about her in this moment: the floral scent of her skin, the soft press of her breasts, the warm haven of her receptive body, and the sweet and luscious glide of her lips.

Isabelle’s hands ran into his hair, down his chest, and over his pecs. The press of her palms on his nipples tightened them and sent a hard throb through his arousal.
 

Then, against his will she ended the kiss and he opened his eyes to hers.

“Let me get on top,” she whispered.

• • • • •

As Mac rolled to his back, Isabelle couldn’t help but wonder what the sad smile had been about. He was at one extreme and then the other today, ever since the meeting with Ben. But
something
drove Mac, some need that she felt just beneath his skin–the need that had him ripping her clothes off one minute, only to stop making love to her to say he wouldn’t lose her. Though she didn’t understand it, his anguish tore at her and she would do anything to make it stop.

She let her eyes roam over his muscular torso, the strong shoulders, the pectorals that rippled with every movement of his powerful arms. Her hands ran up the corrugated muscles of his abs and up his chest as she slowly bent to it. Even before her lips had made contact, Mac’s stiff flesh jerked hard inside her. But as her lips closed around his nipple, Mac hissed. His hands quickly rubbed down her back and then squeezed her around the waist. His nipples were incredibly sensitive, the melon-colored centers already hard. His arousal swelled within her and warmth flooded between her legs. Her nose nuzzled into the soft, fine hair that dusted his chest, and her tongue circled the pebbled nub with a slow and delicious curl.

Mac’s hands pressed her hips down on him as his arousal throbbed upward. Though he stretched her entrance and her hips wanted to respond, Isabelle kept her mouth on Mac’s nipple. The rigid bud stood erect, circled by her tongue, but rather than lick it, she gently sucked on it.
 

“
Isabelle
,” he whispered, his voice strained and tight, and she felt him grind himself beneath her.
 

He was trying not to move, to let her mouth continue its work, but his hips moved with tiny, erratic jerks. Languidly, she slid her tongue across the peaked tip and was rewarded with a shuddering gasp, forced from his throat. His pelvis began a slow and circular gyration, halting and starting, then halting again, a movement on the edge of control–and
completely
sensual. Her own hips fought to buck into him but instead her abdomen tightened around his engorged shaft as she moved her mouth to his other nipple.

Mac’s entire body tensed in anticipation, corded muscles popping to life, his fingers digging into her hips. She enveloped the bare tip in her mouth, fondling it, and felt her own nipples harden as Mac’s arousal jerked inside her. She moaned around the hard tip, as her tongue pushed into it, and then her teeth lightly bit.

The movement of Mac’s hips began slowly as did a moan from deep inside his chest. His hands pushed down on her hips, as his back steadily arched off the bed, and the sound that vibrated his chest against her lips slowly built into his throat. Louder he moaned as her teeth tugged at his distended nipple. Higher his back arched, as his hips sank lower and his hands thrust her down on him. Only his shoulders were in contact with the bed, as Isabelle’s torso lay along his arching chest, and his rib cage continued to rise. He was tugging his nipple hard, the tension nearly unbearable, as his moan turned into an anguished groan. She stretched herself over him, her teeth biting steadily harder, her tongue lashing into him, over and over until finally, he cried out and pulled free.

He thrashed beneath her and only his hands on her hips kept her from sailing across the room. His massive erection drove up into her and he thrust wildly inside. The headboard of the bed knocked loudly against the wall, banging repeatedly as his back slammed into the mattress and his hips surged up beneath hers. She swayed on top of him, trying to stay connected, even though each penetration drove higher. He filled her to the point of pain and then let her fall. He speared up into her and then jerked her back down. His magnificent, rampant body had erupted into giant undulations that lifted them both from the bed.