Rudd and Tyrone sat in the front section of the car, their stoic professionalism unfazed by my antics—or so I hoped. Matt hadn’t told me to stop or be patient—hell, he’d encouraged me—so I figured it was fine.
Settled on his lap, our bodies pressed together in delicious alignment, I felt the heat of him through every layer of clothing between us. Our kiss deepened, tongues dueling as if we had all the time in the world.
My hands roamed over his broad shoulders, fingers brushing the intricate tattoo peeking out from under his shirt collar. Each touch seemed to fuel the fire burning between us, making every second feel like an eternity and yet not nearly long enough.
I lost myself in him—in us—every kiss a promise of what could be if only we let go completely. The car might as well havebeen our own private universe where nothing existed but Matt’s touch and the way he made me feel.
When the car finally came to a stop in the private parking lot beneath the Maxwell’s building, the last thing I wanted was to untangle myself from Matt. Tyrone opened the door, but instead of making a graceful exit, I clung to Matt. As Matt rose from his seat, I wrapped my legs around him with the finesse of a koala bear claiming its eucalyptus tree.
“This is quite nice,” I mused, my words floating on a chuckle as Matt carried me through the underground parking lot with the ease of a man used to lifting more than just spirits.
Matt’s laugh rumbled against my chest, a vibration that promised delights yet to come. “Glad you approve,” he said, striding toward the private elevator with his precious cargo—me.
The entourage followed—Tyrone, Eddie, Bruno, and the rest of the brooding brotherhood—forming a protective bubble around us. It was like being escorted by an elite unit whose job description included guarding national treasures. And in this moment, nestled in Matt’s arms, I felt every inch the Mona Lisa—minus the ambiguous smile.
The moment the elevator doors slid shut, I was all too aware of the muscled fortress around us. Matt’s men lined the walls like statues, eyes forward, minds probably wandering to anything but the live show in their boss’ arms. I could feel Matt’s heartbeat against my cheek, steady as a drum, as if the man was immune to the thrill of anticipation.
But I wasn’t immune—not by a long shot.
Nestled in his embrace, impatience gnawed at me like a starved puppy. Craving his attention, I nuzzled into his neck and let my lips find that spot just below his ear. A little nibble, a playful lick—nothing overt, just enough to stoke the fire.
I couldn’t resist the urge to grind against his belly, sneaking in little movements that could either be a mild irritation orstoke the fire already burning within him. His body tensed under my attention, and his arms tightened around me—a steel trap of muscle and desire—his grip tightening to the point of possession. His chuckle was strained but rich with amusement. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?” he said through gritted teeth—a smile hiding just beneath the surface.
His hand slid down and found its home on my ass—a firm grip that had pain and pleasure doing a tantalizing tango up my spine. I couldn’t help the groan that escaped me unchecked—a declaration of want that echoed off the mirrored walls.
Somewhere to my left, Tyrone cleared his throat. If discomfort were a sound, it would have been that—awkward and gruff. But did I care? Not in the slightest. With every roll of my hips against Matt’s hard body, every lick along his neck, all thoughts other than this moment fell away.
The elevator dinged its arrival at our penthouse suite, but our little show didn’t pause for such trivialities. Matt strode out as if it were the most natural thing in the world to carry a grown young man through a hallway while said man was nibbling on his neck like it was gourmet chocolate.
Once inside, Matt’s foot kicked the door shut. He made his way to the bed with me still clinging to him, our bodies refusing even an inch of separation. My hands clawed at him, desperate for attention—desperate for him. And when he finally laid me down on the bed, it wasn’t with the distance one might expect after such a public spectacle. Instead, he covered me with his body immediately.
Matt’s lips crashed onto mine in a kiss that was nothing short of savage—a clash of passion and need that made my head spin. Our tongues danced wildly together, stoking flames that licked along every nerve ending. My arms wrapped around his neck in an attempt to pull him even closer—if such a thing werepossible—because right now, all I wanted was to melt into him completely.
When Matt’s lips finally broke away from mine, I was left in a daze, my body thrumming with the kind of buzzing that screams for an encore. I lay there, chest heaving, watching as he stood at the foot of the bed, peeling off his clothes with a casual ease that bordered on criminal. Each piece of clothing he removed revealed more of his perfectly sculpted physique, anticipation building inside me like a coiled spring.
First, the jacket came off—carelessly tossed aside like an afterthought. Next went his shirt, buttons flicking open one by one, revealing that mesmerizing tattoo wrapping around his shoulder and arm. The dragon’s eyes seemed to gleam in the light, adding an extra layer of allure to his already magnetic presence.
My mouth went dry as he unbuckled his belt, letting it slip through the loops with a soft hiss before it too was discarded. He stepped out of his trousers with the ease of someone who knew they were putting on a show and was damn good at it.
When he finally stood before me in all his naked glory, I couldn’t help but suck in my breath. “Damn, you look like a Greek god,” I blurted out, unable to keep the awe from my voice.
Matt chuckled—a rich, velvety sound that sent shivers down my spine. “A hard workout at the gym does that to your body,” he said, flexing just a little as if to prove his point.
I propped myself up on my elbows, considering his statement. “Should I build my body like that too?” I asked, half-joking but genuinely curious.
He approached me with the predatory grace of a panther—a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, his eyes dark with something primal. “You look exquisite as you are. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
I snorted, unable to help myself. “What, running around like a headless chicken? Juggling jobs like a circus act just to scrape by?”
In an instant, he was there, his lips capturing mine again in a gentle reprimand. “You don’t need to do any of that anymore,” he murmured against my mouth. “Just hit the gym—keep that body exactly as it is.”
I let out a laugh, soft and breathless from his touch. “Fine,” I conceded, because how could I not? “I’ll do it if it makes you see me as your Greek god too.”
He smiled against my skin, his hands tracing paths down my back that made me shiver. “You’re no Hercules,” he said thoughtfully. “You should be… Ganymede—youthful and pretty, slender but lean.”
A laugh bubbled up from deep within me. “Ganymede? Really?”
“Really,” he confirmed, eyes twinkling.
