Page 39 of My Horrible Arranged Marriage (Bancroft Billionaire Brothers #20)

MINA

H is lips were soft against mine, a question and an answer all at once. The earlier storm of anger and hurt began to recede, replaced by a warmth that spread from my chest outward. I leaned into him, my hands finding their way to his shoulders, then up into the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate at first, as if he was still afraid I might shatter.

But I wasn’t fragile, not anymore. Not with him.

I met his pressure, a silent reassurance that I was here, I was his.

The taste of him was familiar and intoxicating, a promise of forever I hadn’t realized I’d been so desperate to believe.

I didn’t care that my father thought I was so damaged he thought he had to blackmail a man to marry me.

Because I knew Isaac. Isaac wasn’t the type to be told what to do and actually do it.

He was like me. We were our own people and that scared others who didn’t understand how to live like that.

It was almost laughable that anyone thought they could control either of us.

My fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer still, until there was no space left for doubt, no room for the ugly words of that article or the lingering ghosts of past betrayals.

There was only Isaac, his lips moving against mine with a growing urgency that mirrored my own.

A low sound rumbled in his chest. I felt it vibrate through me, a primal hum that spoke of possession and a desperate need.

“Are you sure?” he murmured against my lips. “Your stomach.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just be gentle.”

He chuckled. “Baby, that’s a tall order.”

His hand slid from my chin to cup the back of my head, angling me for a deeper kiss.

I opened to him willingly. My earlier fear, the chilling thought that this might all be a beautifully constructed lie, melted away under the heat of his mouth.

This was real. The way his thumb stroked my cheek, the way his heart beat a frantic rhythm against my own, the sheer honesty in his touch was real.

It was too raw, too undeniable to be fake.

He shifted, pulling me more fully against him on the couch. I had the overwhelming desire to be closer to him, to lose myself in him.

“Mina,” he breathed against my mouth, his voice thick with an emotion that made my own throat tighten.

I kissed him again, harder this time, pouring all my relief, my love, my desperate need for him into it. The world outside could spin its lies, but in his arms, I knew the truth. He was mine, and I was his.

“Bed,” he said and pulled away once again. “You are in no condition to be a contortionist. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I was so lucky to have this man who cared about my comfort. About everything. And when our baby was here, I knew he was going to care about him or her as well.

He scooped me up as if I weighed nothing, one arm under my knees, the other supporting my back.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face against his warm skin, inhaling his scent.

There was something so masculine about his unique smell.

It wasn’t cologne or shampoo. It was just him.

Something intrinsically male that always made my stomach flutter.

He carried me into the bedroom. It was becoming a thing with him. He always made me feel like I weighed nothing. Like I was a precious commodity. Cherished. Never had I felt like I was this important to anyone.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the tinted windows. He laid me gently on the bed, the silk comforter cool beneath my back. For a moment, he just stood there, looking down at me, his eyes dark and intense, filled with an emotion that made my breath catch.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice husky.

My heart did a little flip. He knelt beside the bed, his gaze never leaving mine.

His fingers went to the hem of my hoodie, hesitating for a fraction of a second before he slowly began to ease it upward.

Shivers ran down my arms despite the warmth of the room.

He pulled it over my head, his touch feather-light, careful of my still-tender abdomen.

My shorts were next. He unbuttoned them with deliberate slowness, his knuckles grazing my hipbone, igniting a trail of heat.

He slid them down my legs, his gaze lingering for a moment before he tossed them aside.

I was left in just my bra and panties, feeling exposed yet utterly safe under his adoring gaze.

“Isaac,” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper.

He reached out, his thumb tracing the lace edge of my bra. “You’re sure?” he asked again, his eyes searching mine for any hint of discomfort or doubt.

I nodded, my throat too tight for words.

I trusted him. More than I had ever trusted anyone.

His touch was reverence and fire, a contradiction that sent a delicious tremor through me.

He leaned in, his lips finding the hollow of my throat.

I arched into him, a soft sigh escaping my lips.

His mouth moved lower, tracing a path over my collarbone, sending sparks along my nerve endings.

When he reached the edge of my bra, he paused, his eyes lifting to meet mine again, a silent question.

I gave a small nod. I was dying for his touch.

He unclasped it quickly with a single flick of his fingers under me.

He pulled it away and tossed it over his shoulder.

His gaze dropped, and a slow smile spread across his lips.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that made my toes curl.

He kissed the valley between my breasts, his hands sliding around to my back, drawing me closer until my chest was pressed against his. The feel of his warm skin against mine was electric, a jolt that chased away the last bit of concern and worry.

His mouth found mine again, hungry and possessive. I met his passion with an equal fervor. This was more than just physical; it was a reaffirmation, a reclaiming of what was ours before that stupid article.

His hand drifted down, fingers tracing the waistband of my panties before sliding underneath. He hesitated, his breath warm against my skin. “Still okay?” he murmured, his voice rough with restraint.

“Yes,” I whispered, my hands gripping his shoulders. “Please, Isaac. Show me you love me.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers dipped lower, brushing against the sensitive skin there. I gasped, arching into his touch. He kissed me again, swallowing the sound as his fingers moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm that had me trembling beneath him.

“I love you so much it’s scary,” he breathed against my lips. “And I will never let you go.”

His fingers continued to tease and take me higher and higher.

I felt the orgasm building. I clung to him, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps as the tension coiled tighter and tighter inside me.

His touch was relentless, knowing exactly how to push me to the edge without letting me fall.

My fingers dug into his shoulders, my body arching off the bed as I chased the release that was just out of reach.

“Isaac, don’t stop,” I moaned, my voice breaking. “Never stop.”

He didn’t respond with words, but his lips found mine again, swallowing my cries as his fingers worked their magic. The world narrowed to just the two of us, to the heat of his body against mine and the way he made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered in the universe.

And then it hit me—a wave of pleasure so intense it stole my breath away. I cried out, my body trembling as the orgasm ripped through me, leaving me boneless and gasping for air. Isaac held me through it, his lips never leaving mine, his touch gentle now as he guided me back down to earth.

When I finally opened my eyes, he was watching me with a look of pure adoration that made my heart ache in the best possible way.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I smiled up at him, still catching my breath. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss me again, this time slow and sweet. “I love you, Mina. Never doubt that for a second.”

“I love you too,” I murmured against his lips. “That was amazing. That had been building for too long. No more surgeries for me.”

He grinned. “Agreed.”

“You’re hard as a rock,” I murmured.

He groaned. “Painfully.”

His hand slid up to cup my breast, his thumb brushing over the peak in a way that made me moan. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Seconds later we had him naked as the day he was born. I was desperate to feel his skin against mine.

I gasped, my nails digging into his back. “I need you.”

He groaned, resting his forehead against mine. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice strained. “Always.”

He rolled away and grabbed a condom. It would have been the perfect moment to tell him the condom was unnecessary. But I suspected that would be a boner killer, and my body was screaming for his. I didn’t want to ruin the moment.

I watched as he rolled it on and moved back over me. He positioned himself between my legs, his eyes locked on mine, filled with a mix of desire and something so powerful it made my chest ache. “You’re sure?” he asked again, his voice rough but tender.

“Yes,” I whispered, my hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders. “I’m sure.”

He nodded before he slowly pressed into me. I gasped at the sensation, my body arching instinctively to meet his. He paused, giving me a moment to adjust, his forehead resting against mine.

He whispered my name like a prayer. “Mina, you feel so good,” he murmured, his voice trembling with restraint. “So perfect.”

I wrapped my legs around his hips, digging my heels into his firm butt.

I pulled him closer, needing him deeper.

He groaned, a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down my spine.

His hips began to move in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through me.

I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back as I matched his pace.

The room was filled with the sound of our ragged breaths and the soft creak of the bed. This man. Only him. He was it for me. The feelings he evoked in me were deep and powerful and unlike anything I had felt before. Safe. Wanted. Loved.

His lips found mine again, kissing me with a desperation that mirrored my own. I could feel the tension building inside me again, coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. My nails raked down his back as I moaned into his mouth, my body trembling on the edge of release.

“Isaac,” I gasped. “I’m close.”

He sucked in a breath. His movements became more urgent, more desperate. “Come for me, Mina,” he growled against my lips, his voice rough with need. “Let go for me.”

And I did. The orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, pulling me under in a rush of heat and pleasure.

I cried out, my body arching off the bed as the intensity of it consumed me.

Isaac followed me over the edge, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside me, his own release shuddering through him.

We stayed like that, tangled together, our breaths mingling as we came down from the high. His forehead rested against mine. His eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath. I could feel the rapid beat of his heart against my chest, a steady gallop after the workout we’d just had.

“You are mine,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with so much emotion it made my chest ache. “And I won’t let anyone come between us. Not a tabloid. Not a shitty ex. Not your father. No more secrets, okay? I promise.”

“I love you too,” I murmured back, feeling the weight of my own secret burning a hole in my conscience. Now still wasn’t the time. I had only just reaffirmed our commitment to one another. I wasn’t about to risk pushing him away again. Not so soon.

He pulled out slowly, careful not to hurt me, and rolled onto his side, pulling me with him so that I was nestled against his chest. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as we lay there in the quiet aftermath.

I felt safe here. It felt like nothing could touch us. The world outside could spin its lies and rumors, but when I was with him, none of it mattered. All that mattered was him and me and the love we shared.

“Fuck them,” I murmured as I felt myself drifting off to sleep.

Isaac snorted. “Agreed.”