Chapter 11 - The Line Crossed|
The heat radiating from Rhett's body swept away the last lingering chill of the night.
Isa didn't pull back. She slid her arms up his broad chest, her fingers tangling into his damp dark hair, bringing his face down to hers.
"I don't want you to let me go, Rhett," she whispered against his lips.
Rhett let out a low, growling breath—the sound of a man whose dangerous restraint had finally snapped after years of silent agony.
He leaned down and kissed her.
It wasn't a gentle, timid kiss. It was deep, dark, and possessive—a hard, commanding seal that claimed her completely. Isa gasped into his mouth, her hands gripping his hair tighter as a white-hot spark exploded through her veins, erasing every memory of pain, violence, and fear.
Rhett moved with astonishing care despite his passion, his hands supporting her back, avoiding her left side where her ribs were still healing. He lifted her slightly, setting her down gently onto the edge of the high four-poster bed.
He broke the kiss slowly, his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathing heavily in the dim firelight.
"Your ribs..." Rhett panted, his storm-gray eyes locked onto hers with unbearable intensity.
"They don't hurt," Isa lied softly, a beautiful, breathless smile touching her pink lips.
Rhett let out a dry, raspy laugh, leaning down to press a tender kiss against the spot beneath her ear, trailing his lips down her throat, hovering right over the dark bruise that was fading from her pale skin.
"I am going to build a fortress around you, Isa," Rhett promised into her skin, his hands caressing her waist. "No one will ever make you feel small again."
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"I don't need a fortress, Rhett," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him down to her. "I just need you."
That night, as the storm screamed against the glass windows of the North Shore estate, Isa Voss surrendered completely to the most dangerous man in Chicago—and found the only true peace she had ever known.
