Untamed Bachelors: When He Was Bad... / Interview with a Playboy / The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta. Kathryn Ross

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СКАЧАТЬ chocolate as he searched out all the hidden recesses in her mouth while his hands explored the firm flesh beneath her skinny T-shirt. Curves he’d not expected, dips he’d never seen, made all the more enticing by his long-endured anticipation—a neat little bellybutton, the indentation he discovered at the base of her spine when he slid a hand below the waistband of her jeans.

      Breaking the kiss, he lifted his head, watched the same anticipation colour her eyes that deep dark amethyst he found so fascinating. Skimming his palms up her sides and taking her T-shirt along the way, he dragged it off, tossed it over his shoulder, leaving only her locket winking erotically above her cleavage.

      A glimpse of white lace bra before he yanked it down to her waist so he could bury his face in the smooth fragrant valley between her luscious breasts, cupping their weight, then massaging them so that her nipples beaded tightly against the centre of his palms.

      Her low keening moan triggered a thousand impatient needs, a thousand desperate desires. Dazed and driven by his own impatience to get naked right along with her, he dragged his T-shirt over his head. ‘Jeans off, now.’

      He watched her shimmy out of her jeans and a pair of cute white knickers with hearts on while he discarded his boots, then shoved down his own.

      Like a man dying of starvation, his eyes devoured her body, shimmering in the room’s soft glow. Shadows and light. Exquisite. Perfection.

       Where have you been all my life?

      The question hovered on the edge of his mind, unsettling him momentarily. He dragged his gaze back to her face, reminding himself she was here now, his to enjoy, his to pleasure. Reminding himself that he didn’t measure his relationships by time, but by mutual satisfaction and respect.

      So why did he hesitate to touch? Why did his hand shake when he reached out to trace a line down her body, from cheek to collarbone and over her left breast where he stopped to feel her heart thud in time with his?

      Her eyes were taking their own erotic journey—he could almost feel the caress—a hot silk glove stroking his erection to almost unbearable hardness.

      ‘Don’t stop now,’ she demanded.

      He looked down at himself, choked out a half-laugh, then met her eyes once more. ‘Do I look like I want to stop?’

      ‘No…’ Her eyes sparked with arousal.

      His eyes remained on hers as he reached for her hands, drew her against him. And in that first glorious instant when her body melted against his, warm and willing and all woman, his toes curled off the carpet and he shuddered to the soles of his feet. When she gasped and plucked at his shoulders, he answered with a groan that seemed to come from the depths of his being.

      Desire clashed with passion, impatience with hunger. His mouth fused with hers. Bodies bumping, legs tangling, he manoeuvred them both backwards and collapsed onto the bed, Ellie sprawled over him.

      He twisted so that she lay beneath him, plundering her mouth while his hands raced over her. She writhed against him, her small deft fingers scraping over his neck, his shoulders, the base of his spine. Her warm fragrance teased his nostrils; her breathing was fast and shallow.

      Impatience tore at him. He couldn’t get enough. Enough of her scent, her moans, her taste. The room’s cool air mingled with the warm scent of arousal, muted light spilled over them like gold dust and her skin glowed like fire.

      The primitive race to finish what they’d begun beat like a jungle drum through his blood, vanquishing any semblance of his customary urbane finesse.

      No time to linger, less to think. Pushing her legs apart with his thigh, he plunged his fingers into her wet heat…Protection.

      The world they’d created ground to a halt.

      On a groan of frustration, he withdrew his hand. ‘Condom,’ he mumbled when she whimpered in protest. He reared up, yanking open his bedside drawer and pulling out the necessary item.

      Ellie bit her lip at the unavoidable delay, momentarily appalled that she’d not given it a thought. But before she could chastise herself, his hard body was stretched over hers once more, his weight pressing her into the mattress.

      He drove inside her, one long swift glide that had her bucking to meet him and gasping his name. She lifted her eyes and his all-dark, all-seeing, all-powerful gaze met hers. And in that stunning singular instant of mutual connection she surrendered freely.

      He withdrew, then plunged again, deeper, harder. Closer.

      Wrapping her legs around his waist, she let him set a rhythm and take her where he would. From the dark erotic realms of her most secret fantasies to the giddy heights of mindless pleasure. She’d never wanted the way she wanted Matt McGregor, never needed anything or anyone the way she needed him at this moment.

      He bewildered her. He captivated her.

      He lifted her on wings of wonder and sent her soaring. Muttering her name like an oath, he thrust one final time before spinning over the edge and joining her.

      Ellie’s body still throbbed with the aftermath of great sex. Her skin still tingled; her breathing was still shallow. In the dimness, with only the moon’s glow casting an oblique path across the carpet, they lay close, but not touching. Not speaking. Her mind was overflowing with jumbled thoughts.

      The space Matt had put between them was subtle, but not lost on Ellie. A reminder that what they’d shared was simple lust, nothing more. A diversion. Ride till you come to the end of the road.

      They’d reached that point. She’d prepared for that, been ready for it. She’d even initiated it. Yet somewhere along that journey she’d lost a part of herself. To him. Had he noticed? She listened to his breathing become slow and regular as he drifted towards sleep. She hoped not. Good Lord, the last thing she needed was for him to think she expected more than what they’d shared. Sex. Good sex. Very good sex.

      That was all.

      She sighed into the silence, resisting the urge to curl up against him and reconnect in a physical if not sexual way. To her, intimacy was as important as the sex. But not for Matt.

      She reminded herself again that she didn’t expect more. Problem was, she’d never used sex as a diversion for her problems. She didn’t know the etiquette for the morning after. Or the day after. Belle was due back Monday. Then Matt would leave and that would be it. The end. Finito.

      And if that hurt and left her feeling empty and alone, she’d have no-one to blame but herself.

      Matt stared up at the low-beamed ceiling, resisting the urge to scoop Ellie closer. Already his sex stirred to life. He wanted to tuck her bottom against him and take her from behind—slowly this time, while he—No. Deep slow breaths. He needed to clear the confusion of thoughts and feelings from his mind before he did.

      He’d thought once he’d had her, this attraction between them would settle. He’d get on with his life, she with hers. Instead, his response had been…unnerving.

      Hell, this whole impulsive idea to bring her here had been a one-off. He’d never brought a woman to his place. Not for sex, not for any reason. His bush home was his private refuge. Belle was the only woman he allowed to get close.

      His СКАЧАТЬ