Vanquished (The Encounter #3)(35)
“Merde!” I muttered under my breath, leaning towards the table and pouring myself another misery-laden double shot.
“You’re back.”
Upon hearing her voice, I cocked my head to the side, looking at her like a man in love, a man who was in deep agony, and like a man who only had eyes for her as he became overwhelmed by visceral yearning to possess her in body, mind, heart, and soul. I was all of that and more.
Her hair was disheveled with her robe loosely hanging off her frame. Her stunning eyes were red, as if she had spent the time crying while I was away. She seemed fragile, beguiling, and I had never felt more in love with her than right at this very moment. She was simply beautiful. Whether she had makeup on or was free of it, whether she was tenacious or weak, stubborn or pliant, smiling or in tears … Whatever state she was in, I loved them all, all shades of her: the beautiful, ugly, and damaged. She owned my heart. She owned me. Yet she hadn’t a clue just how much she meant to me. Looking at her, even from a distance, was too painful to bear.
“Go back to bed, Isobel. Beno?t will be here first thing in the morning to take you back to … to Julien.” Finishing that sentence almost did me in. Fuck. Fuck it all.
It was too painful to even connect my gaze with hers. The ache was so overbearingly intense that I had to look away, and I opted to chug the bottle instead of the already filled glass in my other hand.
“Can we discuss this? I won’t be able to sleep if we don’t,” she said as she gradually advanced.
She was a few steps away from reaching the sofa when I stopped her in her tracks, throwing her a slashing look. “Take one more step closer to me, Isobel, and I will be tempted to f*ck you on this sofa.”
Any sensible woman would step away. I wasn’t toying with her. However, the woman was made stubborn, and she had proved that time and time again. This moment was no different as she stepped closer to me with a combination of determination and worry.
“We’re going to talk, Hugo. Threaten me all you like, but we need to do this. It hurts to see you with such scorn in your eyes.”
She had been forewarned. She had heard it, but instead of paying heed, she had chosen to ignore. Was that a form of invitation or … I couldn’t be sure yet. Although there was no doubt where my thoughts were going, had I been sober, it would have been easier to block out her appeal. Still looking like a goddess, her appeal was effortless. The same went for her beauty and uniqueness.
The robed siren chose to sit right next to me with her brows furrowed and her lip swollen as if she had been biting it from being anxious.
Studying her through my hooded gaze, I wondered how this night would end.
Chapter Seventeen
Hugo
“Don’t you see? The last thing I want is to talk, Isobel.” I tried to ignore the throbbing in my cock as I looked away and made myself another shot.
Fuck, how hard was it to stay the f*ck away from me? She had to know the affect she had, but she didn’t care if I suffered. She never had.
“I know this came as a shock to you, but I don’t want you to disregard your friendship with Julien—”
“Julien? You care about my friendship with Julien?” I mocked, sneering at her. “If you cared so much, then you should’ve thought about it before spreading your legs and welcoming his dick. No f*cking wonder the bastard wants to marry you—your cunt is doing all the bloody magical work!”
Flustered and furious, she swiftly smacked my cheek. “That’s twice in less than twelve hours. The next time you do that, you will regret it.”
I made a hissing sound as I touched the warmth of my cheek where she had blessed it with her hand. “Go to sleep, Isobel. I’ve had enough. I’ve really had enough.”
Her chest heaved as she stood up, hovering before me, and when I saw her lean forward, I immediately stilled as her smell infiltrated my nostrils. Then I felt her lips kiss my forehead.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered before kissing the side of my cheek. “You’re a good man. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” she spoke into my ear, lingering.
“Tell me this after—” I paused as I reached out my hand to cup the back of her neck and brought her lips crashing into mine.
Out of my mind, I couldn’t get enough of her—the taste of her and the simple feel of holding her this way. There was no doubt that I was drunk. I was beyond inebriated.
Her lips were a little hesitant, but when I coaxed her lips to open with my tongue, she eventually gave in without a hint of resistance. I kissed her like a man dying from thirst and she was my only source of life.
My pain magnified with each kiss, with each breath I took, but the amount of pain was overridden by the ecstasy that washed over me, blessing me with unparalleled euphoria.
When I hastily pulled her towards me, she sat on my lap, clinging on to me as my hand roamed and hurriedly untied the robe then it slid off her shoulders. Without parting from her lips, I palmed both breasts and toyed with a nipple, slightly tugging it every few seconds or so. Her breasts felt fuller, heavier somehow, and I couldn’t get enough of them.
“Let me in … just for tonight. Give me another taste to remember you by…” I begged, slipping past my ego and pride. “I’m desperate for you, Isobel,” I whispered against her swollen lips. It was selfish of me to want her knowing that she wasn’t mine, but I didn’t care. Right at this moment, she was mine, in my arms, on my lips, on my tongue.