Two Week Turnaround by Geneva Lee

get to every horizontal—and for that matter vertical—surface in here during the next week, but where to start? She wanted Isaac everywhere—and she wanted him now.
    He seemed to read her mind because a moment later, he’d swept her into his arms and transferred her from the window to a large dining table in the suite’s living quarters. Sofia didn’t resist when he laid her on her back, but she groaned in frustration when he disappeared into the bedroom.
    â€œIt should make you feel better that I wasn’t prepared for this,” he said, tearing into a foil condom wrapper when he reappeared.
    It did make her feel better, but she’d feel even better when he was inside her. She didn’t say that, though. Her language skills were still fried from his oral dexterity. Isaac’s craft should win awards, she decided. Sofia’s eyes drifted down to watch as he slipped off the last material barrier between them. This was the second time this week she’d been treated to Isaac au naturel. His body had changed in their time apart. There was nothing boyish about his chiseled six-pack or the broad shoulders that led to sculptured biceps, but things hadn’t changed where it really counted. All seven and a half inches were present and accounted for. Sofia scooted closer.
    Isaac flashed her a smile—it was all Hollywood. Full of gleaming teeth and irresistible charisma. Bending down, he wrapped his hands around her ankles and guided her knees up so that her feet rested on the table’s edge.
    â€œThis plan of yours might backfire,” he teased her. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to drag myself away from this view in time for morning call.”
    â€œI guess I’ll have to visit you on set,” she purred, noting with satisfaction the effect her words had on him. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one going crazy with anticipation.
    He reached forward and scooted her ass to the edge of the mahogany table. Sofia felt exposed and vulnerable and deliciously bare as he ran his palms down the backs of her legs. When he reached her knees, he stepped forward so that his tip skimmed down her wetness. Her hips moved involuntarily, angling to give him a better point of entry, but he shook his head.
    â€œNot yet, princess.” He winked at her. “I need to enjoy this for a moment.”
    â€œDo you torture all your girls this way?” she huffed. It wasn’t terribly mature, but maturity had gone the way of the something when something.
    He leaned forward so that he entered her but only by an inch—only enough to make her teeth sink into her lips. “Only the ones that have been torturing me for the last five years.”
    â€œSix,” she corrected with a groan. It had definitely been six years since she’d felt this. She hadn’t been keeping a running tally or anything. It was just that this was something that was hard to forget.
    â€œSix,” he repeated. “Tell me—have you thought about this during that time?”
    He grinned at her as he asked. She didn’t even need to answer—they both knew the truth. “No. Not at all. I’ve had a string of completely mediocre lovers to distract me.”
    â€œWhat a coincidence.” His grin widened. “So have I.”
    How, after all this time, could they still be so comfortable with one another? Sofia didn’t remember the last time she’d actually cracked a joke in the bedroom. Of course, she also didn’t remember the last time she’d had sex with the lights on or on a nonmattressed surface. It was making it too easy to remember why she’d avoided real relationships since he’d left her. There was no way to handle feeling like this all the time. It was overwhelming to be so open with someone else. The trouble was that it was also very liberating.
    â€œAbout that,” she murmured, biting her lip and giving him her best