I take his hand and put it on my shirt and drag it lower, lower, beneath the fabric of my blouse, then upward, pressing it to my breast—over my bra.
Matt rewards me with a slow, languorous, sensual smile as he cups me fully in his warm grasp.
He leans in and kisses me slowly this time, stroking his thumb over my nipple. I let his hand remain on my breast, thrilled when he flicks open a button with his free hand and steals it under my shirt. Now both my breasts are getting fondled.
Teased.
Kneaded.
Swallowing back a groan, I grip his shoulders and fist the fabric of his shirt in my hands, arching up against him.
“I want to strip you down and run my tongue over every inch of you,” he rasps. His body vibrates with his desire, and I can see that he likes how I’m rubbing up against him like a cat.
He peels my blouse away and exposes me in my lace bra.
“God, you’re so beautiful I need to see all of you.” He takes me in with his eyes, then our mouths are fusing back together. He kisses me with relish, as if he plans to enjoy me all night. Yes!
Things are getting heated when there are noises out in the hotel hall.
Matt peels his lips away.
He lifts his head and turns to watch the door, and I wait, holding my breath. His nostrils flare as the noises fade.
Doubts try to trickle in, but they don’t stand a chance against this—against him.
He glances back at me, his chest heaving, his lips tipping a little. He looks at me and licks his lips. “Charlotte, Charlotte. You have no idea the kinds of things I want to do to you, baby.”
Show me! Do it!
For long seconds, he looks down at my lace bra and slowly lowers his head and captures one nipple. He flicks it with his tongue. It’s already hard, but when he sucks over the thin fabric, it hardens more.
His growl excites me.
I groan and rub my hands over his back when he eases his hands between our bodies, under the waistband of my skirt. His fingers slip into my panties, brushing over my folds.
“Give me this, beautiful,” he part growls, part croons as he finds my nub, my folds, and teases his finger along my wetness. “God, give me everything.”
“Please.” I tilt my hips as he pushes his finger inside me.
I clench around him, my whole body tightening as a low mewl bubbles up my throat.
“That’s right, baby, do you like it when I do this?” he asks thickly as he inserts a second finger.
He’s easing my bra down and circling the tip of his tongue across my bared nipple, murmuring, “God, you’re so gorgeous like this,” when there’s a knock on the door.
Matt peels his lips away and curses under his breath, extracting his finger and licking it clean.
That has to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, god help me.
Smirking, he heads to the door. He looks through the peephole and then waits until I straighten my clothes before he opens it.
Wilson steps inside swiftly and shuts the door. “Someone must have recognized you and tipped off the press. We need to leave, Matt.” He’s frowning and seems to be avoiding looking at me.
“Jesus,” Matt growls.
He rakes five fingers through his hair, obviously pissed. Then Matt glances at me in apology. He shoots a glance at Wilson next. “Give us a minute.”
Wilson steps out, and I can’t move fast enough.
I can tell Matt can see I’m mortified as he crosses the room while I scramble to straighten my clothes.
He grabs my face and looks at me closely, our eyes only inches apart. “Hey, stay calm, baby. We’re adults. We’re not hurting anyone.”
“I know; I just don’t want to mess anything up. It’s just that, since that night . . .”
I shake my head. I could just hit myself for being so weak around him, for having such little self-control when it comes to him.
“I couldn’t forget you—no years were enough. I watched you everywhere you went. I wasn’t even sure if I should take the job. When Carlisle came to offer me the job, I thought that if I still felt the spark I did at the mere thought of you, I’d stay away. I should be staying away—”
“Tell me about the spark,” he says, his eyes sparkling now.
I purse my lips, frowning, suddenly mad at him for looking at me with those laughing eyes right now. “It’s not a spark.”
“No?”
I grit my teeth, shooting fire at him with my gaze. “It’s . . . sparks, plural.” I shake my head. “It’s a torch. The Olympic torch.”
“Ahhhh,” he says.
I swear this man can chuckle silently with his eyes.
I don’t know how he does that!
I shove his hard chest a bit and keep scowling. “Why can’t I dislike you like I do your opponents?”
“Because you want to sleep with me.”
I laugh despite myself, then turn away to the window.
Sober now.
He steps behind me, inhales my hair slowly. My heart flips in my chest because he’s brushing his nose lightly into my scalp. His voice is close to my ear. “Sleep with me when we get to D.C. this weekend.”
“Matt . . .” I begin.
Yes!
No. No. NO.
I’m torn as I slowly face him.