Chapter 132
CHAPTER 19
Isla lay curled tightly in the fetal position beneath two weighty blankets, her jeans still clinging to her legs, their fabric stiff and uncomfortable against her skin. Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in uneven spurts. She thought the bed was trembling beneath her, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if it was an earthquake. But she didn’t dare move—not even an inch. Her muscles were locked, and her body felt like a taut string ready to snap.
It took a moment before the truth dawned on her: the bed wasn’t shaking. She was. Violent, uncontrollable shivers racked her frame. Was it fear? Isla wasn’t sure. She only knew one thing for certain—life as she had known it was over. The realization sat heavy in her chest, suffocating and undeniable. She had lost control—not just of this moment, but of herself entirely.
And she knew exactly when it had happened.
It was the moment he kissed her.
Her trembling intensified as the memory clawed its way to the forefront of her mind, unbidden and relentless. She had been sitting on his lap, completely unprepared for the way his arms had wrapped around her, pulling her so close that the boundary between their bodies had vanished. Her heart had stuttered, her breath faltered, and then... his lips.
Oh, God, his lips.
She pressed her trembling hands to her mouth, as if trying to erase the ghost of that kiss. The motion was futile; it was seared into her. Her lips still tingled with the imprint of him, as if his kiss had lit a fire beneath her skin. She tried to silence the choking sob rising in her throat, clamping her hands tighter over her mouth. But her body betrayed her, shaking even harder under the weight of her emotions.
He had kissed her with such force, such raw hunger, that she’d been utterly consumed. His arms had pinned her against him, her soft curves crushed to the unyielding hardness of his chest. She’d never felt anything like it—she hadn’t even imagined it. She had no reference, no roadmap for this overwhelming onslaught of sensation.
The first touch of his mouth on hers had been like an explosion. A detonation of everything she had ever known about herself. Her lips had parted in shock, and he had taken that as an invitation. The way his lips moved—forceful, insistent—made her panic and surrender all at once.
Her body had betrayed her completely. Trepidation and fear twisted in her gut, but alongside them, something far more unfamiliar surged to life: heat, raw and searing. Her innocence left her defenseless against the strange cocktail of emotions that flooded her. Desire tangled with fear, a confusing, combustible mixture that ignited every nerve ending in her body.
Her skin burned as if she’d been set ablaze, her senses overloaded with the strength of his grip, the scent of him, and the commanding dominance of his kiss. It was too much. Too much for her mind to process, too much for her heart to endure. She’d felt like she was drowning in him, swept away by a tidal wave she didn’t understand and couldn’t escape.
Burning.
It was all she could feel—an unfamiliar, insistent heat spreading through her body like wildfire. The tips of her breasts, crushed against his unyielding chest, burned with a strange, aching need. And lower, deep in the core of her being, between her legs, that same fire smoldered, intense and bewildering. It wasn’t pain, but it wasn’t exactly pleasure either. It was something else entirely—something she didn’t understand.
Burning… for what?
She didn’t know. She had no words, no context for the storm of sensations overtaking her. All she knew was that she wanted. Desperately, achingly wanted. But what? It eluded her, slipping through her grasp like a whisper on the wind.
Her face flushed crimson as her mind replayed the memory of how her body had reacted in those moments. The way her breasts, pressed so tightly against him, had seemed to demand even more contact. She’d felt an inexplicable urge to press harder, to let the pressure deepen, as though that might quench the fire sparking at her very core.
Why? Why had she felt that way?
The question only made her blush deepen, the heat creeping up her neck to her ears. Even now, just thinking about it, her skin felt too hot, too tight. She buried her face in the pillow, trying to smother the mortifying thoughts. But they wouldn’t leave her alone.
And then there was him.
The memory of sitting on his lap made her stomach twist in knots. Her entire body had been trembling then, every nerve alive and buzzing. And when his arms had tightened around her, pulling her closer, she’d felt it—his hardness, pressing insistently against her stomach through the thin barrier of his pants.
She should have recoiled in embarrassment, her mind screamed at her. She should have felt shame, disgust even. But no—her body had betrayed her completely. Instead of pulling away, she’d felt her breath catch, her pulse quicken. That unfamiliar heat in her core had surged, hotter and more demanding. Her heart had pounded so hard she thought it might break free from her chest.
All he’d done was kiss her. Just his lips, firm and commanding against hers, claiming her with a confidence that left no room for hesitation. He hadn’t even touched her—not really. But her body… God, her body had acted as though it had a mind of its own.
She groaned into the pillow, the sound muffled but desperate. Her face felt like it was on fire. She wanted to disappear, to vanish entirely and escape the mortifying truth of how she’d responded to him.
Here’s a refined and detailed version, emphasizing Isla’s innocence while heightening the intensity of her emotions and physical reactions:
God help her. Just the thought of it made her blush furiously, the heat radiating from her cheeks all the way down her neck. But it wasn’t just her face that betrayed her. The memory brought with it a vivid, mortifying awareness of the way her body had reacted—the way the soft, secret place between her legs had throbbed.
Throbbed.
The ache had been maddening, foreign, and utterly uncontrollable. She had never felt anything like it before—a deep, insistent pulse that seemed to demand something from her, though she had no idea what. It wasn’t just the aching. It was the undeniable urge to touch herself there, to press her hand against the source of the heat and soothe the restless need. Or worse—no, more shamefully—to let him touch her.
The thought alone sent a fresh wave of heat surging through her body, her skin burning with embarrassment. If he had known—if he had even the slightest inkling of how she had felt—he would think she was... well, a shameless hussy. A woman completely out of control, desperate for something she didn’t even understand.
Her body had utterly betrayed her, reacting to him in ways that left her reeling. And the worst part? It hadn’t stopped when the kiss ended.
She replayed the moment in agonizing detail. His lips had finally stilled, parting from hers as he pulled back to catch his breath. His chest heaved against her, and when she dared to glance up, his dark eyes held her captive. They were hooded, his pupils dilated, glowing with something raw and unspoken as he stared down at her. The weight of his gaze made her stomach flip, her knees weak, and her heart race all over again.
She had felt like prey—cornered, caught, and completely exposed.
And that was when she had run.
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