Ian glanced sideways at Isabella who was looking at him red faced, with half closed eyes. "The girl looked good enough to eat," he thought to himself. If it had been anyone but her in that moment, he might have simply pushed back his seat, gallantly assisting her with the removal of that delicate lacie top, and then...
"What are you thinking?" Isabelle asked in her low voice. Dam* it! She had the same voice when she'd been drunk that night. He didn't quite like it. It did things to his libido, that had no business being involved here.
"Nothing." he answered shortly. He should not be thinkig about Isabella, he told his brain firmly. Only for it to play pictures of her in a loop! Dam* it! He'd forgotten that you could not tell your brain to not do something!
