Mills & Boon Showcase. Christy McKellen
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her and came back down on her.
Every part of her body yearned to be touched by him. Her breasts felt heavy and a steady throb pulsed between her thighs. She moved her hands down his wide shoulders and muscular back, feeling his hard muscles tremble in response. She grabbed his shirt in her fists and struggled to pull it over his head, until he sat up and removed the offending garment. She couldn’t stand to be separated from him even for that moment, and sat up to press herself against his kneeling form. He hauled her onto his lap, her legs straddling him. She wrapped her arms around him again, feeling her breasts crush against his chest as much as they could within their constraint.
His hand swept her hair to one side as his mouth came down along the side of her neck. He licked, kissed and tasted the low part of her neck just above her collarbone and she arched her head back in response. She needed more, wanted more, wanted to ease the large ache that was growing inside her, and she moved her pelvis forward and ground into his. She was rewarded as his hard ridge pressed into her. Then she felt a new release as her bare breasts collided against his chest, her bra having been unfastened and pulled away. One hand closed over her breast, his thumb stroking the already erect and sensitized nipple.
The other hand grasped the bare bottom that her thong exposed, trapping her against him and echoing her need to push into him. It quickly became not enough, and he pulled away and bent his head to kiss her breasts, his tongue reaching her nipples, taking time to encircle and draw each into his mouth. She pulled open his jeans, the zipper falling from the pressure of him. Her hand reached in to touch him, and she felt him contract against her.
Two hands then grasped her hips and she was moved from her straddled position. She looked up in shock but the same heat that she felt was mirrored in his eyes. She watched as he removed his jeans and boxers, leaving just him. He was fully aroused and everything about him was masculine perfection. He rejoined her on the bed and gently pushed her onto her back against the pillows. She bent her knees and spread her legs, wanting him between.
His hands tangled in her hair as he returned to kissing her, the head of his shaft now rubbing against the damp purple lace between her legs. It was the best form of torture, one where you wanted to stop because the pleasure was too intense, but at the same time knew the release would be more than worth the progression, and that was what made it unforgettable. His hand skimmed her body and ventured towards her inner thighs. She felt the lace move slightly, as his finger caressed her crease and pushed inside. She knew she was wet, and even though the penetration was not the part of him she desperately wanted inside her, she still contracted her muscles around him, both for her satisfaction and to tempt him.
It worked, and for the first time since they had awoken, words were spoken. “Oh, God, Katie, I want you so badly,” he whispered against her cheek, breaking from their kiss.
His words, however softly spoken, had the opposite effect on her. Katie, she wasn’t Katie any more. Katie had been the foolish girl who had fallen in love with her best friend and had had her heart broken. Katie was the girl he had walked away from and ignored. The memory of that feeling was the only emotion powerful enough to break her from the path to ultimate fulfillment that she had been on. Instantly she felt vulnerable and weak, and very exposed, which technically she was. Her hands pressed against his chest and she shoved as hard as she could.
“Stop.”
He made eye contact with her, and she wasn’t sure what he saw, but he moved. She scrambled off the bed and headed for the nearest door, praying it was the bathroom.
She closed what thankfully was the bathroom door and pressed her back against it. The dark, empty room calmed her growing sense of panic as she gulped for air, trying to hold back her tears. She looked around, her eyes adjusting to the city night’s light filtering through the frosted window. She was in Matt’s bathroom, virtually naked, only a door separating her and Matt. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t. She had completely lost control; she had almost lost herself in Matt. Again. Self-loathing rose up inside her. She knew better. If anything had come from their last time together, it had been the hard truth that in life the only person she could depend on was herself, and tonight she had let herself down.
Her hand found the light switch. She blinked rapidly at the brightness and studied the reflection looking back at her in the large bathroom mirror. Her hair was wild, her lips were swollen, her cheeks showed the marks of Matt’s five o’clock shadow, there was a faint mark on her left breast, and she was naked except for her purple thong. She shuddered, looking around the room for something to cover up with, needing to hide the evidence of her mistake. Her eyes fell on Matt’s robe. She hated it that that was her only viable option, but nothing else in the room would provide her the coverage she desperately wanted so it would have to do. The brown terry-towel robe smelled like Matt, but she blocked that from her mind, ran the cold water and splashed it on her face.
Now what? she thought to herself. Naked Matt was on the other side of the door, waiting, probably, for an explanation. He would be waiting a long time for that, because she couldn’t explain how tonight had started and had no intention of telling him why she had put an end to it.
It took another ten minutes before she was ready to leave the room, holding her breath as she opened the door. Folded up in the doorway were her clothes. Her eyes darted around the room. She saw the bed and the tangled sheets, but there was no sign of Matt. She took the clothes back into the bathroom, closed the door and dressed quickly, pulling her hair back with the extra hair tie she found in her jeans pocket. She took a final steadying breath, trying to summon the strength she was going to need to face him.
She found him in the living room, sitting on the couch, his attention fixed on the gas fireplace in the center of one of the walls. He looked up as soon as she came in. He too was fully dressed, not that it mattered as she could still see every contour of his naked body in her mind. It was a battle in her mind between the need to be with him, feel him against her, and the memories that told her to run as fast as she could and never look back. Before she could say anything he was walking towards her, reaching out with her coat and bag in his hand. He passed them over carefully so as not to touch her and gave the impression of not even wanting to be near her.
“I’ll drive you home.” He didn’t sound like himself, but she couldn’t figure out much beyond that. This was not the reaction she had expected, and while she was grateful not to have to replay the details of their encounter aloud, she was also hurt by his dismissal and couldn’t control the accusation in her eyes when she looked at him again.
He misunderstood the look. “I did drive you home earlier, but when we got to your apartment I couldn’t wake you up and couldn’t find your keys to carry you inside. So I brought you home so you could sleep here. That’s it; that’s all.” He sounded defensive and angry. Well, so was she.
“Thank you.” The words were terse. She put on her coat and snatched her bag from his outheld hand. He grabbed his own jacket and unlocked the apartment door.
They traveled in silence down the elevator, into the parking garage and during the entire car ride back to her apartment. At three in the morning traffic was minimal, so the drive was mercifully short. Normally silence like this would be uncomfortable, but she knew talking about what had just happened between them would take discomfort to a whole new level.
Her hand was on the door handle as he pulled up in front of her building and she had the car door open before the vehicle had even come to a full stop. She needed to get away from Matt, she needed time to figure out what tonight meant, if anything. Her foot was on the curb, half-out of the car, when she heard his voice.
“He’s not going to change his mind.” She would have missed the words if it had not been for the dead silence of the night.
It made her pause, settling her body back into the seat. She looked back at Matt, whose hands were still gripping the steering wheel, his gaze focused straight ahead, not looking at Kate. What was he talking about? She slumped further back into the passenger seat, too thrown by his statement not to voice the thought in her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Tate Reed.” By now he had turned to look at her, and she still didn’t understand.