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Steam billows around us, clinging to my skin as I shift in the tub. The water, warm and relaxing, ripples with my movements. I settle onto Walker's lap, my back pressed against his solid chest. Beneath me, I feel him harden once more, his desire for me impossible to ignore.
“My goodness, Mr. Blackthorne, you're insatiable,” I tease, my lips curving into a smile.
“Only with you,” he says, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s the truth. I mean, I’ve seen him with so many women. But I have no reason to distrust him, and his words, simple yet profound, send a shiver through my body. Heat flares within me and not just from the water.
His hands slide along my thighs, positioning me with an ease that speaks of confidence and control. As he guides me down, the warmth of the water seems to blend seamlessly with the heat of our bodies. I'm taken, lost in the sensation, and I can't help but wonder—is this what paradise feels like?
Time loses meaning as we move lazily together, the water lapping our skin and the tub with every gentle thrust. All of this is new to me, but with him, it feels natural, right, wonderful. As if this was how it was meant to be my first time.
Later, when the world has stilled once more and our breathing is back to normal in the cooling water, Walker wraps a towel around me. He lifts me from the tub with a tenderness that seems at odds with his strong, dominant exterior. Carefully, he dries my body with soft, deliberate pats of the fluffy towel.
Back in the bedroom, he places me on the bed like that’s where I belong… and I feel the same way. His lips touch my forehead, the kiss leaving me with a smile as I cuddle into the sheets and blankets. Then he stretches out beside me, his presence a solid comfort in the dark.
But sleep refuses to come. My mind churns. Circling thoughts and emotions that won’t let me rest continue to haunt me. Did I make the right choice? I watch the steady rise and fall of Walker's chest, feeling the brush of his breath against my skin. But even with all the chaos of my racing heart, one question shouts louder than the rest: What happens now?
In the stillness of the night, questions crowd in and I doubt myself, my choices, and what I’ve done. Never mind the fact that I feel amazing, I wonder if I’ve made a mistake. I do like Walker – probably more than I should, to be honest – but is that enough at the end of the day?
And what happens when I wake up tomorrow with a clear head? Am I going to hate myself?
Pushing the thoughts away, I curl into in the safety of Walker's arms. I don’t need to worry about tomorrow. Tonight, there is only us, and the memories of moments and experiences shared. And with that thought, a smile crosses my lips.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Walker
The moment my eyes open, the pre-dawn darkness greets me. Isla's soft breaths are rhythmic and calming and I watch her for a moment, as her chest rises and falls in peaceful slumber beside me. The sight of her, tangled in my sheets, hair fanned across my pillow, sends a jolt through my heart—one that's alarmingly possessive and tender.
I ease myself out of bed, careful not to wake her. The clock on the bedside table reads 5:30 a.m., and as much as I want to stay in bed with her, time is a luxury I can't afford this morning. With a meeting set for 6 a.m., I need to abandon the warmth of her body and the comfort of my bed. Usually this is an easy task, but with her, it's agony. Leaving her there looking so peaceful, so at home in my world, all I want to do is wake her again, to feel her flutter around me once more.
By the edge of the bed, I scrawl a quick note for her on the pad of paper I keep on the table. My neat, tight, dark handwriting stares up at me with an accusation, as if calling me out for doing what I said I wouldn’t – corrupt this innocent young woman. Turns out, she was more innocent than I even guessed.
Make yourself at home, I write. Clean clothes are on the armchair. Charles will have breakfast and coffee ready when you're up. - W
The note feels insufficient, almost impersonal, but what else can I say? Stay forever? You've changed everything? It's too soon for the words I want to say, so they can stay locked in the chaos of my thoughts.
I fold the note and leave it by her side of the bed, along with a gentle kiss on her forehead. The kiss is my silent promise that I'll return. I dress in the dim light, pulling on the tailored suit that's stifling after all the freedom I’d shared with her the night before.
Before Isla, women were fleeting, a way to scratch an itch that was never truly satisfied. But Isla... she's a craving deep in my bones, a hunger that one night has only intensified. The memory of her touch, her taste, lingers on my lips and skin—she’s an addictive substance that courses through my veins.
When I leave the bedroom, I want nothing more than to stay, an alien feeling I’m not familiar with. Usually, I’m glad to escape the women I’d shared the night with, but I just want to stay with her. There's no denying it now; I want her more than I've wanted anything or anyone. It terrifies me, this need to claim her as mine in a way I've never considered before.
As I stride down the hallway, the echo of my footsteps match the quick beat of my heart, and I tell myself I won’t run from these feelings. Denial is not an option. Isla has awakened something within me—a fierce protectiveness, an ache that refuses to be ignored. She isn't just another conquest; she's the woman who's come to mean more to me than my net worth, my control, my façade, and my past.
The glass tower of my empire reflects the rising sun as I take the elevator down, steeling myself for the day ahead. But today, the hustle of people working hard, the raised voices, the sharp bite of AC cooled air, nothing can stop me from thinking about Isla for more than a moment at a time.
I settle behind my desk, but the contracts and reports blur together, meaningless, and I wonder if I can coast through this meeting. My fingers drum an impatient rhythm on the polished wood, a metronome keeping time with the restless beat of my thoughts. What is she doing now? Is she wrapped in my sheets, her naked body begging for my touch?
My phone vibrates, demanding my attention, and it's her name I long to see on the screen. But there's only the endless parade of emails and messages from associates and partners—a sharp reminder of my responsibilities. Responsibilities that seem much less intense than the urgency that pulls me back to her.
In the meeting, I listen, but retain nothing. I force my eyes to the numbers and clauses that shape my world. But it's no use. Every figure morphs into curves, every word whispers her name. I didn't have nightmares last night. For once, my mind was silent, and I slept deeper and better than I can ever remember. It’s probably a coincidence, but what if it’s not?
“What do you think, Mr. Blackthorne?”
My thoughts scatter and I glance at Sugar, noticing the young man’s face is terrified. “I think you should keep going.” I wave a hand at him and he looks relieved, continuing to talk to the circle of people who help run the company with me.
As the clock ticks toward evening, I realize I've almost signed off on a merger without truly registering the details. A deal worth millions that I somehow negotiated on autopilot. This isn't me. I'm the man with an iron grip on his empire, not some lovestruck fool fumbling through his day.
Home can't come soon enough. But when I arrive, only silence greets me. No soft talking or the sound of her breathing, just the empty space where she should be. The note I'd left her remains untouched on the bedside table, the words make yourself at home glaring at me.
