Chapter Three
*
Pik Van Cleaf sat silent in the elaborate library. His emotionless gaze watching his Partner, Fouchon. Fouchon was speaking to a newly acquired client and Pik could care less.
The only thing on his mind was her. This type of distraction could prove fatal in his line of business.
Pik clasped his hands together, interlocking his fingers. There was no room in his life for anything other than what he was. He simply could not pinpoint the attraction. He only knew what he felt.
He ached to touch her again, it was a longing he had to fill.
"Thank you. We'll be in touch."
Fouchon's voice brought Pik back into the moment. The client had said his goodbyes and had departed, leaving Fouchon to wonder at Pik's unusual behavior.
"Is there something I should know about ?" Fouchon asked as he sat in a nearby chair.
Pik eyed his partner for a moment. "No, Nothing of great importance."
Pik realized he was treading on very thin ice.
"Well, why don't you take sometime and see to this, unimportant matter. We have a hunt in two days."
Fouchon lit his cigar confidently and smiled, as if he knew more than Pik would have liked.
"It is nothing." Pik replied. Fouchon inhaled sharply savoring the flavor of the fine imported cuban cigar.
"Nevertheless, see to it. I need you ready. Understood ?"
Fouchon added with finality.
Isabelle rolled the overflowing cart of books and magazines to the less used portion of the library.
It was late afternoon, and the weather was not agreeable, for the first droplets of rain had begun to fall.
She didn't mind the bad weather, actually she rather enjoyed it. It was unseemingly quiet this time of day. The library was pratically vacant.
Isabelle had done alot of thinking over the last few days, Mainly about this man she kept managing to run into. This tall dark stranger with the mysterious eyes had become her savior. In truth, he had held a gun to her chest, his intent was to silence her. But Isabelle knew by looking into those deep dark eyes of his, that he did not intend to murder her.
Strangely, she felt she already knew this man. It would be better to just put him out of her head, twice is a coincidence, she seriously doubted that she would ever see him again. That thought brought forth a sudden urge of depression.
Mary had wanted to know all of the details concerning the date with Rob. Isabelle could not bring herself to speak badly and had decided to say little. Mary seemed to accept the silence and did not press further.
Isabelle had just replaced a book to it's proper place upon the shelf when she no longer felt alone.
Slowly, she turned her head. It was him. She was still holding a handful of books and she raised them to her chest, as if creating some sort of protective shield.
She could only stare at him as he stood unmoving, with his hands in his coat pockets. He had this strange expression upon his face, it was unrecognizable.
Isabelle supposed she should say something, but what should she say to a man like this ?
He took a few steps closer and stopped, leaving him only a few feet away. Isabelle stood, her back against the bookshelves, a handful of books gripped against her chest. The only way out of this isle was through him.
"Who are you ?" her mind was finally able to form coherent words and complete a sentence.
Her voice came out a mere whipser and he moved closer.
"It is not important" He responded and moved closer until he postioned himself a few inches from her and removed his hands out of his pockets and rested one on the shelf directly over her head. The other free hand rested upon the books she was holding.
Isabelle feared she might faint. Her heart was thundering, her blood coarsing thru her veins, it was becoming unbareably hot at the moment and she was powerless. Her mind did not function, she could not think of one rational thought except this man before her.
Pik peered down into her lovely eyes and sensed her uncertainty. His large graceful hand grasped the books she was holding and removed them from her frozen fingers.
He was going to touch her and she was not going to stop him. It was as if she was in a trance only he could break. Pik set the books upon the nearby cart not caring that one or two had slid to the ground.
He lowered his head ever so slowly, and his hand moved to wrap around her neck. Isabelle nearly cried out when his hand came into contact with her bare skin. He was going to kiss her.
His lips brushed against hers lightly at first, she reveled in the feel of his full lips and she could not resist, she pulled his lower lip into her mouth.
The reaction from him was giving and gentle. He allowed her to suckle his lower lip and he could feel himself growing hard with desire. He had never felt this way before, he could only compare it to intoxication. But she was far sweeter.
Pik could no longer withstand this sweet torture, and he deepend the kiss taking her lips in a sensual movement as his hand began to massage the back of her neck.
He stroked the inside of her mouth with his tongue and he could feel her melt against him offering no protest. His desire was mounting. The kiss became heated as she lifted one hand and lay it upon his chest, for only a moment. Then she slid her hand up to his thick neck and the feel of his skin was overwhelming. She wanted more of him.
Pik slid his hand off the bookshelf and moved it to her shoulder pressing her harder against his powerful form.
His fingers became entangled in her mass of silky hair and he pressed his lips harder against hers.
There was nothing more he wanted then to take her right here and now. To feel her against him and to witness her reaction to him, was so powerful that it jolted him.
Isabelle was arroused with desire and she would deny him nothing. The carnal way he moved his lips over hers was sheer pleasure. Never had she been kissed like this, ever.
Pik allowed his hand to run down her back and to the gentle curve of her spine.He didn't quite know who moaned, perhaps it was him and he cared less. He wanted more of her.
Isabelle could barely breathe let alone continue to stand on two very trembling legs. Pik broke the kiss and gave her the support to stand, not removing his hands.
"I must go." He whispered in a low tone laced with that accent that sent shivers down her spine.
"I shouldn't have come." He slid his hands slowly away and returned them to his coat pockets.
Isabelle felt lost without his touch. He was like the other half of her soul. But she kept her distance, she felt he needed it, for now.
"I...." was the only word she uttered before he pressed his fingertips to her lips and silenced her.
He stood there for a moment then turned and left as silently as he had come.
Isabelle felt so weak and empty without him and she allowed herself to slide slowly down to the floor. She was drained and exhausted. She now knew, she loved him with all her soul. She always had. Isabelle knew her thought made no sense, but she could describe them no other way.