At Last

“I’m sorry I let you think it,” she said. “And okay, maybe some of it is about the sex, but that’s because it’s the best sex that I’ve ever had. But it’s not all about the sex.”

Matt might be laid-back and easygoing but he wasn’t slow. In three steps he closed the distance between them and pulled her in, right up against him. He felt so good she actually moaned, a sound he silenced with a kiss.

She had no idea how a man could be so terrifyingly gentle in the way he held her and yet at the same time plunder her mouth so roughly. But that’s exactly what he was, both gentle and rough.

It was exactly what she needed.

“Don’t let me hurt you,” he said, lips on her jaw, making their way to her ear.

Too late, far too late. To share the pain, she turned her head and nipped his lower lip. Sucking in a breath, he laughed softly. “Tough girl,” he murmured, and cupping her face, kissed her again. There was nothing controlled about him now as his tongue tangled with hers, his hands wandering madly from her face to her hips, ending up back in her hair to hold her head still. She pressed even closer, needing him in a way she couldn’t even fathom. She wanted him, wanted him to pull off her clothes, wanted to pull off his, now. She glanced at his overloaded desk.

Matt followed her gaze, his own darkening. “I like the way you think,” he said, and shoved all the stacks of paperwork to the floor. “Lock the door.”

Her nipples tightened into two ball bearings. “Will anyone hear us?” she whispered.

His smile was lethal and filled with nefarious, bad boy intent. “Us?”

She flushed, and he laughed softly. “You’re going to have to be quiet. Very quiet,” he said.

She quivered and went damp. “I can do quiet.”

“The door, Amy.”

She turned to do just that, but it opened before she could and Ty strode in. He had a bag from Eat Me in one hand and two long-necked soda bottles dangling from the other. He wore dark, reflective sunglasses and the navy blue coverall of a paramedic with FLIGHT CARE across his back in white letters.

He dipped his head and eyeballed them over the top of his glasses, taking in Matt’s hair standing up on end from Amy’s fingers and then her disheveled appearance as well. His lips quirked. “I take it you forgot I was bringing lunch,” he said. “Since it looks like you’re already in the middle of yours.”

“It’s not what you think,” Amy said.

“No?” Ty asked, amused. “What do I think?”

Amy opened her mouth, then sighed. It was exactly what he thought.

Matt came forward, grabbed the bag and both drinks from Ty, then pushed his friend backward over the threshold and shut the door in his face. “I’m going to pay for that in the gym in the morning,” Matt said, handing Amy the sodas and food. “So we should probably enjoy this.”

“What if he’s hungry?”

“He’s always hungry. And on second thought, so am I.” Matt took the stuff back out of her hands and set them on a chair, then hauled her up against him. “Where were we?”

Amy slid her fingers back into his hair. “You had your tongue down my throat. And your hands up my shirt.”

He nodded and slid his hands up her shirt again, fingertips resting just beneath her breasts, which were tingling from his touch.

“And you?” he asked, voice husky. His bedroom voice. “Where were you?”

She bit her lower lip. They both knew exactly where she’d been. Her fingers had been heading for his zipper.

He laughed softly at her, kissed her long and deep, then tore his mouth from hers. Grabbing her hand, he tugged her to the door. “Change of plans. I’ve got fifty-five minutes left on my lunch break.”

“That’s enough for lunch and dessert.”

He smiled. “Yeah, and we’re going to have dessert first. But not here. It’s not nearly private enough for what I want to do to you.”

Her knees wobbled as she followed him out, having no idea where they were going and not caring. She’d probably follow him anywhere.

And if that wasn’t unsettling, he walked them down the hallway past several coworkers, moving with unconscious confidence that spoke of a man on a mission. And he was on a mission-to do her. At the thought, she cracked up, and he looked back questioningly.

“Nothing,” she said.

As if he could read her naughty thoughts, he gave her a heated look. “We’re doing this.”

“Yes, please.”

He smiled. “I like the ‘please.’ More of that.”

And she laughed again. It wasn’t often that she wanted to laugh and jump someone’s bones in the space of a few seconds. But then again, it wasn’t often that she wanted to both run like hell from someone and hold on tight to him either.

Normally Matt could make the drive from work to home in eleven minutes, allowing for the occasional deer crossing or traffic if he got behind someone not used to the narrow, two-lane, curvy highway.

Today, with Amy next to him practically vibrating with sexual tension, he made it in seven. He pulled up to his cabin with a screech of tires, then turned to her with some half-baked, Neanderthal idea of dragging her into his house. But she beat him to it, crawling over the console to straddle him before covering his mouth with hers.

His first response was a resounding oh, hell yeah. This was what he’d needed. Amy in his arms like a tempting, forbidden treat, her dark eyes full of wanting.

And then there was her mouth. God, that mouth, it could give a full-grown man a wet dream. He staggered out of his truck, pulling her out with him, careful to protect her injury.

At his front porch, they stopped to kiss. “Matt,” she whispered, and God, how he loved the sound of his name on her lips. He pressed her against his door. Take, his body demanded. Instead, forcing himself to be gentle, he leaned in and nibbled at her throat.

With a moan, her head thunked back to give him access. Trusting… that was new, and tenderness swamped him as he kissed her softly now, a sweet brush of his lips over her skin.

She moaned again, and damn if all his good intentions didn’t go up in smoke, the kiss quickly deepening into a hot, hungry intense tangle of tongues.

Tearing her mouth free, she rained kisses down his jaw, her small hands very busy at the buttons of his shirt, her expression one of such fierce intent that he groaned. “Amy-”

She gave up on his buttons and went for his belt and zipper, having some trouble working around his gun and utility belt. And then he was in her hands. Literally.

“Not here,” he heard himself say roughly, though he was gentle as he lifted her up, still aware enough to be careful of her stitches. She wrapped her legs around him, and he cupped her ass in one palm, supporting her as he unlocked the door with his free hand. Kicking it closed, he strode with her through his house, ignoring the couch, the fireplace rug, everything except his big bed. By the time she’d begun working off her clothes, he’d stripped naked and was reaching for her.

She’d toed off her kick-ass boots but was still struggling out of her jeans. He tugged them off and the rest of her clothes as well. His arms glided up hers, taking her hands in his above her head. Palm to palm, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, he looked into her beautiful face and lost his breath. But as he knew she would, she tugged to free her hands. “Amy.” He nuzzled at her throat but then made eye contact. “Let’s try it my way this time.”

She went still. In fact, she appeared to stop breathing. “What way is that?”

“The way where you trust me.”

Her eyes met his, heartbreakingly wild. He steeled himself against the surge of unexpected emotion and held her gaze, willing her to look deep and see what he was finally starting to get about himself. He could be trusted. She could trust him.

“Matt-”

“I would never hurt you,” he breathed, lowering his head to kiss her softly. “Trust me.”