“Gym time.”
Isabelle threw a pair of training gloves at Andy. She’d been moody and noncommittal ever since she’d come back from visiting Victoria, and Isabelle couldn’t stand it anymore.
Andy looked up from the book she was reading. “Now?”
“Yes. Now.”
Isabelle was restless, blood pounding through her veins in a constant audible surge, a white noise in her ears she couldn’t shut up. She was sure she was going to dream tonight. She had raging food cravings Andy had tried her best to accommodate, even if it meant driving out at midnight to look for strawberries.
And she wanted Andy to touch her. She needed Andy to make her come, again and again. She wanted to pound her body against Andy’s hard planes, relentlessly and repeatedly.
And not somebody else. Andy.
Fuck it.
“Come. Let’s go,” she snapped.
Andy got to her feet, dropping the book next to the couch. They were on a mandatory rest period between assignments. They’d both had two sessions with Ma Soeur’s psychiatrist already—one of the changes Caroline had made since moving into Kate’s office. Each team had to go for a psych eval after finishing a dragon hunt.
“It’s ten at night,” Andy protested.
“Yes. So?”
Andy had been staying up later and later to avoid going to bed with Isabelle. She would repeatedly wait for Isabelle to fall asleep before slipping into bed. It had happened for five days in a row now and Isabelle had had enough.
They changed quickly and walked to the gym where Isabelle turned and locked the door. She climbed into the ring, watching as Andy did the same. She tied up her hair, then rested her hands on her hips, jutting out her chin.
“Here’s the deal,” she said.
Andy looked at her suspiciously, her eyes traveling from Isabelle’s mouth to her neck to her breasts. Back up again to her mouth.
Good. At least she wasn’t dead yet, Isabelle thought with irritation. “You win, and you can go,” she announced. “I win, and you stay.”
“What do you mean ‘go’?” Andy asked.
“Exactly what I’m saying. This is it. The little zero-sum game we’ve been playing for these past weeks. Mutually assured destruction, but fuck it, I can’t stand it any longer. I also have my pride. I keep on waiting for you to wake up and make a decision to stay.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Isabelle resisted the urge to roll her eyes like a teenager. Andy was here only in name. Something was holding her back. Maybe it was pride, maybe it was the fact that she’d wanted to choose Isabelle, but the decision was stolen from her by Kate’s actions and Isabelle’s dreams.
“I’m not going to negotiate with you,” she said. “I’m going to fight because you don’t understand any other language but this.” She put up her fists, wrapped in exercise padding.
“That’s not fair—”
Isabelle stepped forward and slammed her fist into Andy’s bare midriff with everything she possessed. She danced back. “No talking. I’m sick of talking.” Two fingers invited Andy closer. “Come on. Come and get it.”
Andy squinted, then lifted her fists.
She danced to Isabelle’s left. Isabelle remained standing quietly, not moving a muscle.
Andy slowed, frowned. Stepped to Isabelle’s right.
Still Isabelle just stood there, waiting.
Andy bent down low and went into Isabelle’s body directly. Isabelle stepped back and jabbed sharply at her face, her neck.
Andy reached out and grabbed Isabelle around the waist, driving her into the corner of the ring.
Isabelle kept hitting her with short, sharp, angry jabs.
Andy turned her away from the corner, lifted her body, and brought her down onto the floor with as little force as possible, as if she couldn’t get herself to hurt Isabelle.
Andy tried to pin down her arms. “Yield,” she demanded.
Isabelle slammed a rogue fist into her mouth, then locked her arms around Andy’s head. She brought her right knee up between Andy’s legs with considerable force. She knew she was hitting Andy where it hurt, where it had been aching for so many weeks if the damn stubborn woman would just admit it.
Andy inhaled sharply, eyes glazing over, as if the pain was exquisite, desperate.
Isabelle kept her knee between Andy’s legs, shifting her hands to Andy’s hips. Andy moved involuntarily against the relentless pressure, moaning something Isabelle couldn’t make out.
Isabelle rolled Andy over on her back, landing on top of her. Andy looked at her, shaking her head, a swear word hovering on her lips. Isabelle grabbed her hips, increasing the pressure on Andy’s clit.
Isabelle rode her without mercy, locking her eyes into Andy’s. “Come for me, baby. Come on. Just let go.”
Andy’s eyes were hazy, unfocused with want. She threaded her left hand through Isabelle’s hair and pulled her closer, kissing her hungrily. Her right hand closed around Isabelle’s breast, breaking it free from her top. She pinched the nipple, then rolled it between two fingers, pulling at it, causing Isabelle to gasp. Her left hand wandered down the length of Isabelle’s body, gripping her butt.
Isabelle lifted herself, slipping her hand into Andy’s shorts until she found her clit, swollen and slippery. She pulled at it, tweaked the nub as Andy gasped for air.
“Isa—Oh fuck.”
Isabelle rubbed Andy’s clit in ever tighter circles. She could feel the first orgasm crash through Andy, how she came again and again as Isabelle would not release her. Isabelle leaned down, burying her face in Andy’s neck as she also came unexpectedly, screaming muffled ecstasy into Andy’s hair, her neck.
Release, finally.
Isabelle closed her eyes where she rested on top of Andy. She listened to her ragged breathing, how her heart finally settled to a slower, steadier beat.
They remained like that in the ring, no one saying a word.
Someone tried to open the gym door, giving up only after rattling the handle a few times.
Isabelle was too scared to ask, her bravado outgunned by a passion she feared would consume her. Then, finally, she heard as Andy whispered the words she’d been longing to hear.
“Okay, okay,” she said.
An almost audible smile.
A sigh.
“I yield.”