‘Now isn’t that a sight for inspiration?’ He was standing close behind her, his voice rumbling softly at her ear.
‘Oh, yeah.’ His warmth spread across her back like a blanket. She placed a hand against the glass. So many contrasts. Heat and cold, the dark rise of the land against the moon-drenched water. Man-made in harmony with nature. And the man who’d built it all slid his hands loosely around her waist. Strength and tenderness. She didn’t need protecting, but it was there in the way he shielded her with his body.
His hands now on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. ‘Ellie.’ Her name had never sounded as beautiful as it did coming from his lips. And the sight of this gorgeous man before her was more inspiring than any view behind.
And more terrifying.
She’d sworn never again to allow a man to seduce her and here she was. Yet staring up at him she sensed no intended seduction as such. Just a burning desire. One he’d carefully banked. One she shared.
She didn’t need a man, yet in this moment, with the starlight reflecting in his eyes and the cool night radiating through the glass at her back, she wanted this man.
Neither did she need his support—unless it was the kind of support which would keep her upright on legs that were weakening with every beat of her pulse.
His hands slid over her shoulders, her arms, then inside her jacket, palms brushing the sides of her breasts, every fingertip sending sparks of excitement shooting to her feminine places.
What she needed…She needed his hands on more of her. On all of her. Her own hands trembled as they followed the hard contours of his chest through the soft jersey of his T-shirt. Up…until she felt his heart thud fast and heavy beneath her palm.
The fragrance of the cold night’s ride clung to his clothes, his skin. Leaning up on tiptoe, she breathed him in, right in the little hollow at the base of his neck. Dizzy with his scent, his proximity, she dropped her head on his chest.
Her whole body throbbed with heavy anticipation, yet she felt as light as air, as if the slightest puff would blow her away. Had she ever felt this way? She might have thought so once, but she couldn’t have—she’d have remembered something this intense.
Cupping her face in both hands, he tilted it towards him, and what a view she was treated to. A strong jaw etched in the moon’s silver glow, hair backlit with gold from the light filtering up from downstairs, lips that no artist could do justice to, eyes as dark as midnight. Eyes that could make a girl forget how to breathe, let alone her well-rehearsed lessons in self-preservation.
He whisked a thumb over her lips, just once. ‘What do you want, Ellie?’
Be careful what you wish for. The little warning voice she’d learned to listen to and followed religiously dulled to a whisper, then faded completely.
One night. Her choice. Her decision.
Stepping out of his arms, she shrugged out of her jacket, let it fall to the floor. ‘You. Here. Now.’
If it were possible, his eyes darkened further, but he didn’t move except to let his arms drop to his sides. ‘Are you sure? Because I don’t know if I can stop if—’
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ she snapped out, unbuttoning her cardigan. She had no illusions about Matt where relationships were concerned, but now she’d made her decision she wanted to get on with it. ‘One night.’ She lifted her chin, every cell in her body jangling. ‘That’s the way you play the game, isn’t it? One night at a time?’
He hesitated, the acknowledgement written on his face as he rocked back on his heels. ‘But I’m not sure it’s the way you do.’
No, it wasn’t, but the other way hadn’t worked for her in the past so perhaps it was time she tried something different. Knowing it all up-front meant no expectations, no disappointments and, most important of all, no broken heart. Without breaking eye contact she slipped off her cardigan. ‘Wasn’t it you who suggested the other day that we do something about this…tension between us? Get it out of the way?’
‘Yes, but after what happened, you might—’
‘I’m calling you on it now. I want to forget this afternoon.’ Still watching him, she toed off her sneakers, peeled off her socks. Her toes curled into the warm carpet. ‘I feel like I’m about to explode. I still have all this pent-up angry energy I need to get rid—’
Matt cut her off with a hard-mouthed kiss that echoed the wildness he sensed within her, barely glimpsing her surprised eyes as he dragged her against him and answered her request.
She didn’t miss a beat, meeting him with the same force, the same heat, the same passion. Her hands shot upward, clutching fistfuls of his T-shirt, lush lips parting beneath his, tongues touching, tangling, thrusting in a tantalising prelude to what he wanted to do with her. To her. In her.
The hot potent flavour of her residual anger flowed over his tastebuds like dark chilli 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.