He leans back, and I meet his gaze, both of us breathing heavy.
God. I forgot how much fun it can be to make out.
His eyes drop to my chest, fingers brushing along my décolletage, pushing the silk farther and farther until it slips from my shoulders.
He swallows, eyes glued to me.
My nipples harden, chest rising and falling with every breath. My pulse races. Somewhere down below, I’m screaming for him to stop taking this so slow and touch me—because I can’t wait another minute.
“Christ, babe.” He sweeps his thumb over one of my nipples, circling it slowly, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You are so fucking sexy.”
He flattens his hand, palm cupping my breast.
I gasp, reaching for his tie and tugging just enough slack to get to the top button of his shirt. His mouth claims mine as my fingers move frantically down the row, working each button open until I can finally shove the fabric aside and run my hands across his abs.
Oh my God.
I lean back and take him in, heat pooling between my thighs. Myhands move over his chest, rubbing, exploring, desire detonating inside me.
His lips crash back onto mine almost instantly, needier this time, hungrier, hands cascading across my back, pressing our chests together.
“Oh my God, Matt,” I whisper against his mouth, our breaths mingling. “Fuck me.”
He chuckles, low and deep. “My two favorite words.”
His fingers crawl slowly across my skin, sliding up my thigh, thumbs brushing dangerously close to where I’m dying for him to touch me.
I tilt my hips, silently begging, coaxing his fingers higher.
He grins against my lips, ghosting his knuckles up the center of me, so soft I barely feel it through the lace. His thumb dips below the seam, dragging it back and forth in a slow, teasing way that shortens my breath.
I squeeze my eyes shut and whimper, breaking our kiss, every nerve in my body zeroing in on what his fingers are doing to me.
“Already this desperate,” he murmurs.
His index and middle finger stroke up the fabric, again and again, light as a feather, fucking with me, torturing me. The steady thrum grows louder and louder, until it’s impossible to think about anything except the ache and his fingers.
He brings his mouth to my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “I haven’t even touched you yet,” he says softly. “And you’re already soaking my fingers.”
My hands scramble for his pants, but he catches them, then shifts forward and stands, lifting me with him. I wrap my legs tight around his waist, crossing my ankles, clinging to him.
He carries me through the living room and into the hall toward the bedroom. I work the knot loose in his tie.
“Leave it,” he says just as I’m about to pull one end free. He lifts a brow. “I’ll need that in a minute.”
My insides turn to molten lava.
Holy shit.
It’s been way too long since I’ve had a man take control the way I know Matt’s about to.
Nothing turns me on more.
He sets me down in front of the bed, my body sliding slowly down his. I push at his shirt and he shrugs it off, then my fingers are at his pants, undoing them while he watches me with a sexy smirk as I tug the zipper down.
His hands graze my ass as I shove his pants past his hips. He kicks them off and steps out of them.
“Turn around,” he says, his voice rough.
