She immediately nodded and took another sip of sangria, so Tom felt okay leaving her alone. He followed Isabelle into the kitchen. She grabbed a new bulb while Jill checked something in the oven.
“Should be ready in fifteen minutes,” Jill said.
Isabelle held up the lightbulb. “Well, hopefully we’ll be back before then.”
“Not if you show him that painting.”
Isabelle smiled in his direction. “I told you he hates my paintings.”
“Not this one.”
Aware he was being left out of the joke, Tom frowned as he followed Isabelle into the dark room. “What was that about?”
“Jill is trying to get me into trouble. Or, actually...” She paused in the darkness and turned to look at him. “Maybe she’s trying to get you into trouble.”
“How so?”
She shrugged and headed straight toward the French doors, not hesitating for a second in the dimness.
“Let me,” he said, hurrying behind her to check the deck area before she opened the door.
“I’m perfectly capable of replacing a light.”
“Just not in a timely manner?”
“Definitely not in a timely manner.” She opened the door, letting cold air pour in as she leaned outside. “But we can’t all be by-the-book lawmen, can we? Some of us are free spirits.”
She was only joking, but Tom wanted to say yes. Yes, because of her laugh and the way her shoulders curved into a smooth slide of skin all the way down to plump breasts, and he was standing over her, behind her, and he could see down her shirt to the roundness of her from this angle. The softness.
And the easy way she moved through this house in the woods that was hers alone. And the way a lock of her hair had escaped its knot to trace over the skin of her neck just where he wanted to kiss her.
She was his opposite in every way. Pale and soft and curved. Amused by everything. Unconcerned by things she couldn’t control. Happy to take what she wanted, whether it was him or a glass of wine or a moment to dance around the living room.
The bulb blinked on as she turned it.
He kissed her neck.
“Oh,” she said softly, her hand falling away from the light. He’d thought it was a sound of shock, but her head immediately tipped forward, giving him more of her neck, and he realized the sound was pleasure. So he gave her more, kissing her again, opening his mouth against the side of her neck, scraping his teeth over her skin until her small hum became a soft groan.
The scent of her skin was already so familiar. It chased the smell of paints and thinners from the room. Lust shot through his gut.
Living in Judge Chandler’s basement meant he hadn’t had enough privacy to relieve the nagging stress from the last time he’d kissed her, so he was right there again, completely aroused and wanting more. He slid his hands over her shoulders, wanting to feel her soft skin again.
Isabelle reached one hand up and slipped her fingers into his hair to pull him more tightly to her neck. He sucked her flesh. Just a little. He couldn’t risk leaving even the faintest mark, but damn, he wanted to press his teeth harder to her when she groaned and arched into him.
Winter air swept over them. Her nipples were rock hard and pressed to the thin fabric of her top. He wanted to touch them. Wanted to make her shiver under his mouth.
He raised his head, already breathing hard. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say.
Isabelle laughed and turned in his arms. “Are you?”
“Yes,” he said, half meaning it. He reached past her to switch off the light and shut the door so they wouldn’t be so exposed, but those brief seconds of trying to distract himself were ruined by his awareness that her hands were sliding around his waist. They were all twisted up with each other, a loose twine of limbs that felt strangely natural with someone he’d known for only a few days.
“I like that you’re having trouble resisting,” she murmured, leaning back a little to look up at him.
He glanced down. “Your necklace is
distracting.”