Page 21 of Lock ’N’ Load

Biting back a soft cry, she opened her mouth. The instant his tongue tangled with hers, her body trembled with need, and she clutched at him tighter. Cupping her nape, he deepened the kiss, angling her head, massaging her neck with long, strong fingers. His taste on her tongue was so new, she couldn’t find the words to describe it. It was hot and wonderful, stirring up a fiery, passion-fueled craving she’d never experienced before.

His hand skated across her back, leaving a trail of delicious tingles on her skin, and still his tongue sought hers again and again. An unfamiliar ache started low in her belly, uncurling, blooming into something she did understand. Desire.

The hunger in her belly spread lower, hotter, until something inside her snapped, unleashed like a wild animal sensing freedom for the first time.

She molded herself against Matt, when he abruptly pulled away, thrusting her from him. His mouth was open, and his nostrils flared as he drew in heavy breaths. As he watched her, she glimpsed the heat in his gaze morph into something else. Regret.

“Fuck.” He tightened his jaw. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It was a mistake.”

His words were like a slap to the face. Here she was, her body quivering with the absurd and inexplicable need to kiss him again, and he’d told her unceremoniously that she was a mistake.

Backing away, she glared at him. “I’m no one’s mistake.”

“C’mon,” he said as he reached for her. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Evading his grasp, she glanced at the clock on the wall and gasped. The half hour Wayne had given her was nearly up. If she didn’t get back upstairs and collect her things quickly, she might be tossed from the building like a common criminal.

“Whatever,” she lied then brushed past him and walked calmly to the doors, resisting the urge to run. Once outside in the lobby, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Placing her fingers on her lips, she couldn’t help remembering how his lips had felt on hers. How he’d tasted on her tongue.

But kissing her had been a mistake?

He’d actually said that. Curling her fists, she pushed from the door and headed to the elevators, where she punched the up button with far more force than necessary.

Matt might regret kissing her, but he’d made her body experience things she’d never imagined. New things. Exciting things.

Every square inch of her rational brain told her she shouldn’t, but she wanted those things again.

With him.

Chapter Six

Why the hell did I kiss her?

Matt stomped on the gas pedal. Behind him, Sheba let out a gruff sound of annoyance as she struggled for balance on the bench.

“Sorry, girl.” He held his hand to the cage opening until she leaned her head into his palm. Stroking her velvety ears normally soothed him during the drive home after a rough day. Not today.

He’d been an ass and a shithead to kiss Trista, and he still couldn’t come up with an acceptable reason for doing it.

To stop her from crying?

Initially, yes. The sight of her tears twisted his guts like nothing else.

Or to take her mind off getting her clearance revoked?

Maybe. No, that was bullshit.

He cranked the wheel, turning onto the road that ran in front of the Moose. He knew damned well why he’d kissed her. He just hated admitting it to himself.

I kissed her because I fucking wanted to. Needed to.

The plan had been to hold her, comfort her, knowing he was partly to blame for her losing her clearance, but when she’d looked up at him with those watery green eyes, his brain had detached from his body and the next thing he knew, he was tasting her beautiful, rosy lips. Just a quick taste, and then he’d stop. Or so he’d told himself. But when she’d kissed him back, he lost control and his inner-asshole had asserted itself. And he’d liked kissing her. A lot. It had felt too good, and that was the real reason he’d stopped. He didn’t deserve to feel anything that good in his life. Not since the night his drunken stupidity had gotten his best friend killed.

This was his self-imposed penance. Jerry wouldn’t get to feel anything good ever again, so neither should he. Including kissing Trista Gold. Because kissing her had by far been the best thing he’d experienced in years.

“Goddammit.” Goddammit to hell and back.

Braking for a red light, he slapped his other hand back on the wheel. If only she hadn’t kissed him back. Didn’t matter. Taking advantage of a woman who was upset, and who’d just been attacked the night before and was undoubtedly vulnerable, made him the biggest shithead on the planet. Worse, with her soft, full breasts pressed against his chest, it had been impossible not to ogle her assets. Again making him a royal shithead.