“Did Nate try anything funny with you? You know, did he—”
I touched his lips. “No, he would never.” My mind wandered back to the Hotel Teatro. I pictured Nate’s friendly smile, then the glint of wickedness in his grin as he watched me swirl my scotch. “He’s so loyal to you,” I whispered.
“We’re loyal to each other,” Matt said. His voice was sad.
I snuggled against his body and kissed his neck. It was easy to fall into those small gestures of comfort. Matt’s hands resumed their roaming, and soon he was pulling my body against his in a way that said, I want to fuck.
“Oh, no you don’t.” I giggled.
“Hm?” He squeezed my ass.
Fuck, though … that felt good. I wiggled my hips against his.
He sighed. “Hannah, I miss you…”
“Your dick misses me.” I rubbed his flank. God, I loved his body. Was this his game—driving over here to seduce me in the hammock? Hilarious, and artless.
“That, too.” Matt laughed. “Come home … I only need you all night … every night…”
“Tempting.” I kissed his jaw.
“Or here? Here is fine, too. Motion of the hammock and all.” Matt was half laughing, half serious—and he looked good like that. His strong, lean frame moved restively under mine. His hand slid between my legs, touching my sex through denim. He sighed when he felt that soft, plump skin. “God, Hannah…”
I squirmed on top of him. I should break away. Go inside. Sex wasn’t conducive to rethinking our relationship. Right? He touched me there again and my body responded, rubbing along his. My nipples stiffened against his chest.
“Always,” he whispered. “You feel it, too, don’t you? You always want me. I always want you. We belong together, Hannah.” His fingers dug into my bottom and I squeaked. It hurt just enough to feel good. I rocked against Matt. He sat up halfway, vying for control. Trying to get on top of me. In the hammock. And we went over together, tangled, grasping at each other.
Matt managed a quick “fuck!” and I yelped as the hammock dumped us on the grass.
“Ack!” I landed on Matt’s hard body. Matt landed on the hard ground. My arm was up his shirt and his hand was down the back of my jeans.
He rolled me over and pinned me to the grass, grinning.
“Gotcha.”
“Matt, not here. Not right—”
As swiftly as he’d overturned me, he stood and pulled me to my feet.
“Then out here.” He tugged me deeper into the yard. Deeper into the dark.
An unexpected wave of giddiness made me giggle.
He glanced over his shoulder and smiled, his handsome face veiled in shadow. A perfect half-moon hung in the sky, casting coin-sized spots of light through the leaves. That light moved over his body and he was beautiful, and he was mine.
He released my hand and started to undo his fly, the humor fading from his face.
My blood turned to magma. Thick, slow, scalding.
I mirrored Matt, unbuttoning my jeans. Our zippers sounded loud in the silence.
We moved together clumsily, hands fumbling in the dark. I touched his cock and he sighed, thrusting into my grip. Nothing like Seth, I realized. I remembered the nihilism of Seth’s suite at the Four Seasons—people drinking and drugging and coming without feeling—and my heart quickened. That meant nothing. This meant everything.
We kissed. Matt guided me down onto the grass.
“Hannah,” he whispered. “You know I need this…”
Without ceremony, he settled over me—and slid inside me, the flared head of his cock stretching me wide. Ah—that moment—I arched under him.
“God, baby,” I gasped.
“Fuck, yeah,” Matt answered, driving his length home. Such rich satisfaction in his voice. He touched me deep inside. I raked my nails down his back.