Torn (Second Sight) by Hazel Hunter Page B

called to the protective part of him–the part he knew all too well.
    “What you saw today would frighten anybody,” he whispered. “It’s a natural reaction.”
    For several moments she didn’t say anything but then her arms gripped him tighter and she slowly shook her head.
    “That’s not what I’m afraid of,” she whispered. “I’m afraid of losing you.”
    Mac frowned at that and pulled back to see her face. She was crying again.  
    “Isabelle,” he said. “How can that be? I just said that I told Ben about us.”
    In answer, her hands moved to his chest and as she stared at them through the tears, he looked down as well to see the gloves that he hardly noticed any more.  
    It was the gloves again, and the readings, and her insistence that they weren’t ready for that. He’d ignored it at first, seeing how much it upset her. Well maybe now was the time to settle it once and for all. But as the tears once again slipped down her face and her lower lip quivered with emotion, he knew now was not the time. In fact, there weren’t any words that he hadn’t already said. Instead, he did what he’d wanted from the start. He bent and picked her up, feeling her arms tighten around his neck and her body curl against his chest, and he carried her to the bedroom.

    • • • • •

    Though Mac released her onto the comforter and began to stand, Isabelle didn’t let him go. She clung to him as though she were drowning.  
    “Don’t go,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
    “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, sitting on the bed to face her. “Wild LAPD helicopters couldn’t drag me away.” She tried to smile at the lame humor but the lopsided attempt only emphasized how awful she must feel. A sharp stab of pain and regret lanced through his chest. “Isabelle,” he whispered, caressing the side of her face.  
    Her gloved hand immediately covered his and she tilted her head, pressing her face to his hand, still trying to smile. As she did, the long, dark strands of hair that had covered her opposite shoulder fell behind the graceful curve of her neck. Slowly but steadily, he leaned into her and lightly placed his lips on her bare shoulder. He hesitated, waiting for some reaction, but when there wasn’t one, he moved his mouth toward her neck and lightly kissed her again. A sigh whispered shallowly from her lungs. As he moved higher, he allowed the tip of his tongue to trace the short route before he paused again and softly sucked at her satin-smooth skin.
    “God, that feels good,” she breathed, her voice still quaking. And now Mac realized her entire body was trembling.
    Again he moved higher, tasting her, feeling the warmth just below the surface. She tilted her head to accommodate him and his lips landed on the side of her neck, suckling the offered flesh with a firmer press of his lips. He took his time, willing the quiet quaking of her body to stop, moving slowly and deliberately. Another low breath escaped her and his mouth sensed some of the tension in her relax. One delicious bit at a time, he moved up her neck along her jaw and then finally to her mouth. Her full lips were already parted, her eyes already closed, and he took three, soft and lingering kisses to cross her mouth. The beautifully swollen lips responded by kissing him back, equally lightly, but trying to follow him.  
    But as his hand gently kept her face from turning, his mouth slipped under her jaw, to the front of her throat. Her chin tilted up and he took the opportunity to move closer, let his hands slip to her back, and he leaned her backward.

    • • • • •

    Isabelle felt Mac’s warm breath, moist against the skin of her breasts as his mouth moved steadily lower. Slowly, the images of Angela’s body, the memory of her pain, even the grimacing face of the Chameleon began to fade as Mac’s unending and insistent kisses demanded she stay in the present. And as her heart began to beat faster, she knew