Rescued by the billionaire

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: kisses

She dropped herself from my desk to my lap straddling me then held my face in her arms then she licked me, “All clean,” she said with a playful smirk, but she was still perched on my lap, her body pressed close, warm and lingering. Her fingers lazily traced the back of my neck, and though the words suggested finality, her presence told a different story. Neither of us moved—caught in that charged pause where everything felt possible and nothing needed to be said.

I couldn’t control myself any longer I pressed my mouth on her’s kissing her like it was my last meal.

We went at it until we were completely breathless, our bodies tangled, sweat-slicked, and trembling. Eventually, we had to stop—just for a moment—to catch our breath, our chests rising and falling in sync as silence settled between us. That’s when she moved. Without a word, she slipped off the legs stood up, and began to gather herself. I watched, still trying to steady my heartbeat, as she walked toward the door—slow, deliberate, like she'd already made up her mind. And then, just like that, she was gone.

I retired to my room, the house quiet except for the distant hum of night settling in. I lay back on the bed, but rest was the last thing on my mind. I found myself waiting—expecting, hoping—for Isobel to come to bed, just like she had every night since that first time.

But tonight felt different.

That kiss.

It kept replaying in my head, looping over and over like a song I couldn’t turn off. And it wasn’t just the kiss—it was how it felt. Raw. Real. Charged. Better than anything I’d ever imagined. Her lips on mine, the way we moved together like we’d done it a hundred times, the way she clung to me like she didn’t want to stop.

But then—she left.

She walked out like it was nothing. Like it hadn’t meant something. Like it hadn’t shifted the ground beneath us.

And now I was lying here alone, my thoughts full of static. What if I read too much into it? What if she regretted it? What if it had just been a game to her, something spontaneous she no longer cared about?

The uncertainty twisted in my chest, slow and heavy. I hated how vulnerable it made me feel, how one kiss—one perfect kiss—had the power to both lift me and undo me in the same breath.

So I waited.

Wondering if she’d come back. Wondering what it meant if she didn’t.

I woke up to the gentle hush of early morning, the light barely slipping through the curtains. My body stirred slowly, the sheets tangled around my legs, and that’s when I noticed her—Isobel.

She was fast asleep beside me, her back rising and falling in a soft rhythm, completely at peace. A strand of hair lay across her cheek, and her lips were slightly parted in sleep. She looked...beautiful. Untouched by the storm of thoughts that had kept me up the night before.

When had she come in? I didn’t remember the door opening or the bed shifting beneath her weight. I must’ve drifted off waiting for her, somewhere between hope and uncertainty.

I laid there for another minute, just watching her, before slipping out from under the covers. I padded quietly across the room and into the bathroom, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

The air was cool, and I turned the shower on, waiting for the warmth to build. Steam began to curl up around the mirror, fogging the glass as I stepped toward the stream, ready to shake off the night.

Then, the door creaked open.

I turned slightly, startled, only to see her—Isobel—walking in, barefoot and still in one of her oversized sleep shirts, her hair a sleepy mess, her eyes warm but unreadable.