IMOGEN'S POV
Isaac's hands drifted beneath my shirt, his calloused fingertips leaving trails of fire as they traced upward. When his thumbs grazed the underside of my breasts, a shiver cascaded down my spine, settling into a molten ache between my thighs. Each point of contact rekindled memories I'd forced myself to bury, sensations I'd denied myself for years.
The apartment fell away. There was only his touch, his scent; rain and sandalwood and something uniquely him, enveloping me completely.
"Imogen," he breathed against my neck, his voice husky with need. His lips brushed my collarbone, each kiss more fervent than the last, branding my skin. "I've wanted you for so long. You have no idea what you do to me."
My pulse hammered against my throat where his mouth lingered. Time seemed suspended between heartbeats. He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, a question in his eyes. I nodded, barely perceptible, and he gripped the hem of my rain-dampened shirt.
