*Isabella's POV*
The sound of the shower shutting off was followed a few minutes later by the click of the bathroom door opening. He emerged, a cloud of steam billowing out with him, his body still glistening with water, droplets tracing paths through the dark hair on his chest and down his toned stomach. A low-slung towel was wrapped around his waist, a precarious, delicious thing that did little to hide the powerful lines of his hips and thighs.
He started towards his wardrobe, his back to me, completely at ease, while I was having a fucking heart attack in the middle of his bed. The memory of him dismissing me, of him pushing me away, was still raw.
I scrambled out of bed, pulling the sheet with me to wrap around my naked body. "Oh no, you don't," I said, my voice a shaky, accusatory thing. "You won't shut me out again, not this time."
He paused, his hand on the handle of a drawer, his back still turned. "Isabella..." he sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants, the soft cotton clinging to his still-damp skin before he finally turned to face me. "You idiot, I was just going to use the bathroom," he replied, a flicker of something—amusement, maybe—in his dark eyes.
"You were?" I asked, my face flaming with a heat that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with pure, undiluted embarrassment. Way to go, Isabella. Make a fucking scene.
"Yes," he replied, his lips twitching. Way to go, Isabella. You just had to go and make a scene.
He took a step towards me, his expression shifting. The amusement was gone, replaced by a deep, serious look that made my stomach clench. "I'm sorry about how I acted the second day at the Grand Canyon," he said, his voice low. "I obviously screwed up, so much so that you think you're on eggshells now with me. I don't want you to feel that way."
My defences crumbled. I just stood there, clutching the sheet, feeling like a complete fool. "I just thought... Me going to see Jacob for the birthday... that's for both of you. I thought you were jealous," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.
"Oh, I am jealous," he said, his voice a raw, honest confession that stole my breath. "I'm jealous that you're still hung up on him, well... but I still want you to go."
"Wait," I said, crossing my arms over my chest, my bare feet cold on his polished floor. "But if you're so fucking jealous, why did you accept this deal? I'm starting to think neither of you actually wanted to be in this sharing thing." The words came out sharper than I intended.
He let out a long, heavy sigh, running a hand through his already messy dark hair. "It's complicated, Isabella. Really fucking complicated."
"And you're just... what? You're going alone to poker night. You're pushing me away," I said, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be
"Isabella..." he said, his voice softening. He took a step towards me, closing some of the distance between us. "I just... I know how you get around whiskey. And I want you to have fun. Plus, I think you would be too much of a distraction for me there, I might lose my house in poker."
"A distraction?" I shot back, a sly, knowing smirk finally finding its way to my lips. "Or Are you just scared?"
He chuckled, a low, warm sound that was so much better than his cold, dismissive CEO voice. "Yeah right" he said, a genuine, mischievous wink accompanying the words.
"I don't buy it you flirt, you flirt," I retorted, rolling my eyes but unable to stop a small smile from playing on my lips. "You work with me all the time. It's never been a problem before."
His smirk faded, replaced by an intensity that made my stomach clench. "Yeah, but outside of work... I let my guard down. There will be whiskey involved... and if you're there, I'll lose my bloody house."
"plus we've already celebrated my birthday," he said, and his voice dropped, losing all its playful teasing. It was low, serious, and it made my heart do a painful little lurch.
I looked up at him, my breath catching in my throat. He leaned in, his movements slow and deliberate, and planted a soft, lingering kiss on my cheek. "It was the best birthday I've had in a long time, Isabella."
My heart did a fucking flip, a chaotic, dizzying somersault in my chest. This man... He was going to be the death of me.
*A Few Days Later*
I was in my room, standing in front of my wardrobe, trying to pick a bloody outfit for work. My mind was a million miles away,, when my phone buzzed on the dresser. Jacob's face immediately lit up my phone as i answered the face time call. I flopped onto my bed, propping the phone against a pillow. "Okay, so how will this work?" I asked jumping the small talk, my mind already racing, thinking about flights and hotels and hat the fuck I'm gonna wear to work today.
"We'll celebrate this weekend," he said, his voice full of its usual easy confidence. "I'll send my jet, you'll fly in on Saturday."
Of course. A private jet. These two spoke about luxurious shit like its their fucking toys. "Right. Should be simple enough," I said, my voice laced with sarcasm. Of course. A private jet. For a weekend. Yep two peas of the same fucking pod.
"And one blonde chick is very anxious of your coming," he added, his expression turning mock-serious.
I froze at his words. "Blonde chick?" I asked, my voice a little too sharp, a little too quick.
"Elly," he said, rolling his eyes.
Elly. I'd almost forgotten about her" I almost forgot if not for the only female friends I have," I muttered, the words dripping with a venom that surprised even me. I almost forgot on of the few if not only female friends I have. Elly was fucking awesome.
"She will pick you up and bring you to me," he added
"Is it a beach party? I'm only asking because I don't know what I should wear," I said, my mind already racing through my wardrobe.
"Elly will take care of that," he said with a reassuring wink. "Don't worry, doll. Just pack your pretty self and get your cute ass on that jet."