“Chill out,” Jericho said, swiping his arm in a circle.
“It ain’t a good time for visits,” Denver ground out through his teeth. “Come on, man. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
Jericho took a drag of his cigarette, the orange tip crackling, and then flicked it over the railing. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Denver held up both hands. “You’re a bag of nuts. If you’re not back down in five minutes, I’m leaving without you. Clock starts now.”
They headed their separate ways, and Jericho walked in the direction Denver had come from. There were only two motel rooms on the left, and the first one he passed had a couple of toy cars outside the door. He walked to the end unit and knocked on the door.
After a few beats, Isabelle’s voice rang out. “Go away.”
He put his finger over the peephole. “Isabelle, it’s me. I want to talk.”
“Please, just go.”
He rested his forehead on the door, knowing she must have been doing the same on the other side. She sounded so close.
“I can’t leave. Not without seeing you. I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”
“I know,” she said softly. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“It wasn’t!”
“I know. I didn’t mean it sarcastically. I believe you.”
“Hard to tell from the expression on your door.”
He thought he heard her laugh, but maybe it was wishful thinking.
A light flipped on inside and the curtains opened. Jericho stepped to the left and admired Isabelle on the opposite side of the window. Thank God for cheap windows and an old air conditioner that allowed them to hear each other.
“You cut your hair,” he said. It was several inches shorter, messy, and had never looked sexier. Just like the rest of her. Her white tank top was wrinkled, too long, and revealed cleavage. Her sweatpants fit snugly and showed off the gentle curve of her hips.
“Ivy did it,” she said, touching the ends. “Long story.”
Yeah, he knew. “You okay? Wheeler told me what happened.”
She nodded, and her eyes slid down his body. “Do you have a show tonight?”
He nodded back.
Isabelle covered her smile. “Who did your eyeliner?”
“Maizy. Why?”
“It’s all…” She traced her finger beneath her eye and sloped down her cheek.
Jericho wiped the heel of his hand across his face. He hadn’t had the heart to say no when Maizy walked in his room with a smile, holding his smoky eye pencil.
“How long are you staying here?” he asked conversationally, noticing a stack of food on her dresser to the right. Pillows were scattered across the bed and the blanket was pulled back, as if she’d already settled in for the night. The television was off, which made him wonder if Denver had woken her up.
“I’m not sure. It won’t be too much longer.” She gripped the curtain and lowered her eyes ruefully. “You should go.”
Jericho put his palms on the glass and leaned in. “Isabelle, open the door and let’s talk. I’m not going to say anything to upset you; I just want to explain what happened so you don’t walk away from this hating the hell out of yourself for giving me a second chance. This wasn’t your fault. Please, baby, I can’t do this through the window.”
She theatrically pulled the drapes closed. His heart stammered when the chain slid off the lock and the door cracked open.
He peered into the dimly lit room. “Isabelle, I’ll just be a minute. I can’t leave without seeing you…”
Then it hit him. She had barely appeared in the doorway when all the blood in his body rushed south and he became hard as granite. All he noticed was how lovely her breasts looked behind that thin fabric, which was sheer enough that he could see the color of her nipples.
Jericho pushed his way in and kicked the door shut. He cupped the back of her neck, running his nose along her damp cheek as she tilted her head up to look at him. “Oh, fuck. You’re in heat, aren’t you?” he breathed.
When she let out a delicate moan, he settled his weight on his right leg and broke out in a sweat. Damn, the sweet scent lingering on her skin filled his senses and clouded all rational thought. Before he knew it, his mouth was on hers and… Jesus—her lips were so pliant and soft, moving with his in sweet rhythm. She tasted like ambrosia, whetting his sexual appetite like he’d never known. They whispered words back and forth, but Jericho couldn’t focus.
Her leg wrapped around his, and she moaned against his mouth. Before he knew it, Isabelle was grinding herself against him. “Please, make it stop.”
Christ, his willpower was about as strong as a thread of hair. Her need for sex consumed him, but he pushed her back, out of breath.
“Wait, Isabelle. Wait. I’m not doing this with you, so stop.”
Chapter 25