Chapter Seven
Isabella couldn't help but feel incredibly stunned when she saw who was standing out in the hall, waiting for her.
Tall. So tall.
She knew she would fit under his chin.
And that chin!
Strong, like his jaw. With scruff covering it. Dark scruff. To match the dark, serious eyebrows atop sparkling green eyes.
Eyes that seemed to bore into hers.
Were they questioning? Angry? Impassive?
Did they match the tight lips, the locked jaw? That jaw?
She didn't know.
His hair was a messy mop onto of his head. Sex hair, she believed it was called. Like passionate, needy fingers had been pulling on it. Like it couldn't be tamed.
He was wearing a white, button-down shirt tucked into black dress pants. Sleeves pushed to the elbow. Top bottom undone. Showing off his lean, toned chest –
He cleared his throat, quirking one of those eyebrows in her direction.
Isabella's face flamed.
What the hell am I doing? She admonished herself, realizing with horror that she had just spent however long simply staring, probably open-mouthed too. No hello. No how-are-you. No welcoming gesture to come inside.
She wasn't at all behaving like the professional she knew she could be. The professional that had led to her to maintaining this…arrangement with Dr. Cullen for almost two years.
She was behaving like a thirteen-year-old girl.
What is that about, anyways?
It's not like Isabella had felt any attraction towards a man since her high school boyfriend two years prior. And even the boyish Mike Newton hadn't caused this strong a response in her.
She didn't do crushes.
She didn't do relationships.
The only personal life she had was 75 miles away, stuck in a room all by himself.
So why was she reacting this way, now, to a stranger?
Clearing her own throat in return, Isabella knew she had some making up to do for this terrible and embarrassing beginning. For God's sake, she didn't even know what his name was! Moreover, she wasn't at all prepared for any kind of client, being that she was just wearing an oversized T-shirt and sleep shorts. Her hair up in a bun at the top of her head. Not a stitch of makeup. Comfy, wool socks on her feet.
Yeah… she must look a sight.
Isabella shook her head. She knew she must fix this situation, but she also knew that she could. After all, she had been with a lot of different men doing this job, and had learned a lot during the process.
She sent the stranger a small smile before lifting up her right hand.
She knew, out of politeness, that he would automatically lift up his own to meet hers. Especially being the white-collared kind of guy he appeared to be.
And of course, he did just that.
"Nice to meet you," Isabella murmured, feeling the smooth skin of his hand, and holding onto to the handshake a beat longer than necessary.
"I hope I can say the same." He looked more confused and maybe a smidge angrier, as well?
But his voice…a rich timbre, something dark, kept just under the surface…
Interesting.
Isabella swept her fingers along his skin as she let go, and lifted her hand to play with the loose tendrils of hair near her neck.
"Care to follow me?" She questioned.
He nodded.
She turned, leaving the apartment door wide open for him. Her quick assessment of this man had her reeling, but she thought she had picked up on at least a few things that could help her.
First of all, he seemed confused.
Maybe he's not sure about this?
Slightly angry.
Possessive, perhaps? Like Mr. McCarty?
Quiet.
Maybe wants her to take the lead, at least at first?
And, most overwhelmingly: beautiful.
Must not have trouble with attracting a partner.
Then why go and see her, though?
Isabella sat down in her token spot on the brown sofa, her thoughts still running a mile a minute. The man chose the recliner, and simply…stared. At her. Eyes fixed to hers. He sat comfortably, she thought, with his legs widespread, arms resting on either side of him, back leaning against the brown leather.
And he just stared.
"I need to know…" she began, leaning forward. "What you would like me to call you." Her voice was soft, slow, and sexy.
The man's eyes widened and his mouth popped open.
Inwardly, Isabella smirked.
"Edward," he finally blurted out, "Edward, uh, Masen."
"Edward," she rolled his name off her tongue, and stood up. Maybe if she could seduce him, make him crazy, wild, out of his mind, he would forget all about her awkward, adolescent behaving earlier?
Without even taking a step in his direction, Isabella peeled her t-shirt over her head, exposing her bare chest and black, cheeky panties. She then turned her back on him, before bending over slightly to place the shirt on the couch.
His shocked gasp spoke wonders.
She sat back down to slowly take off the offending socks as well, and placed them neatly on top of the shirt.
"Ms. Swan – what are you…what are you doing?"
Looking back up at his face, his eyebrows jumping almost into his hairline, his mouth open wider than ever, Isabella crossed one leg over the other, and leaned back on her hands, effectively thrusting her chest forward.
"Don't you sometimes think, Edward, that clothing is much too…restrictive?"
He gulped, but didn't reply.
"I mean," She chuckled lightly, "How am I supposed to relax, to let my skin breathe, if I can't sometimes just take Every. Stitch. Off?"
Once again, he said nothing, but his increasingly loud breathing told her all that she needed to know.
She slid a hand down her chest, fondling a tit momentarily, before slipping it lower, and lower, until a finger skimmed the band of her panties.
"How am I supposed to really touch myself, Edward?"
He shuddered.
Hook, line, and sinker.
MA~TWIW~MA
Isabella was slightly surprised when the man, Edward, didn't leave his chair at that moment. She could tell, though, that he wanted to. That his thigh muscles tensed and his hands squeezed the soft leather of the chair.
Hard.
She would need to push him further, she knew.
She wanted him unglued… uncontrolled…
And she wasn't quite sure why.
Pretending the draw he had on her, the speechlessness he provoked, the flush, the…dampening, wasn't there in every breath she took, every beat of her broken heart, but that he was a just a client like all of the rest, Isabella reached up and released her hair, letting it fall down past her shoulders.
She then slid to the floor, to her hands and knees.
She could feel her breasts swinging and her hips swaying, slightly, as she crawled over to the shocked man across from her. Her hair hung down, over her shoulders, as she kept her head down. Eyes to the floor.
Respectful.
Submissive.
Compliant.
She took a great deal of time to cross the short distance, and when she had finally arrived, settling herself on the floor at his feet, she slowly looked up at his face.
It was like he was made of stone.
Everything clenched.
Everything hard.
Everything.
"Would you like to try, Edward?" Isabella spoke with barely a whisper.
She slipped his shiny, black shoe off of one foot, then the other. Sliding her hands up a pant leg, she grasped the thick band of his sock and pulled it down, and off.
She repeated the gesture with his other foot.
She picked up the first foot once more and set it in her lap, his heel sitting in the space the between her legs, mere inches from her near-naked heat. She slowly ran her hand up and down the sole of his foot before using her index finger to scratch a line right down the middle, from top to bottom.
He jumped.
Leaning forward so that her ass rose in the air, Isabella placed a small kiss on the top of his foot before bringing her hands back up his legs, this time on the outside of his dark pants. She could feel his strong calf muscle under her finger tips, but when she reached his thighs, and felt the thick, tense muscles there, she stopped her movements.
She quickly nuzzled her cheek there and was instantly surprised when she felt a hand in her hair.
Gentle.
Moving slowly through her long tendrils, lightly caressing her scalp.
Mmm…
Isabella couldn't help but close her eyes, face still resting on his leg, for just a moment. It just felt so nice…
But she had to continue.
It was her job, after all.
Dragging her chin forward, along his thigh and towards the bulging zipper between his legs, she looked up at his eyes, oh so dark where before they were the vibrant green, before moving the last few inches.
One kiss she placed there. On that zipper.
Before the gentle hand tugged her head back.
A raspy voice, thick with tension.
"No! For fuck's sake, stop!"
A/N: So...theories, anyone?
I love to hear from you!
