Matched

by Kelli Ireland

  She gaped at him. Literally. Gaped. “Why...? Did you not look around? Did you not talk to another woman? Did you not ask the other two women you were paired with how their introductions had gone?”

  “Um, no?”

  There was an opening for a tirade regarding men and paying attention, but that would wait. This wouldn’t. “Isaac, I went to the ladies’ room before meeting you. I didn’t hear a single woman in there discuss anything positive. Some were making pacts to leave if the next match was as poorly done. Others were hiding out in the restroom until it was all over. And others still were talking about the fact that Power Match couldn’t hold a candle to Date Me and how they’d be going back to that app exclusively.”

  Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I had no idea.”

  “Maybe it was a glitch?” she suggested.

  “No way. My brother is the app developer. It wouldn’t be in my hands if there was a glitch.”

  “What if you missed it, though?”

  “If I had, someone else on Jonathan’s team would’ve caught it. There are checks and balances.”

  With a look of relief, he tipped his chin at something over Rachel’s shoulder. “I’m going to guess this pile of bar food is ours?”

  “Every last crumb,” the waitress said, balancing the serving tray on one hand and pulling dishes with the other.

  Rachel rubbed her hands together with glee. This was the Irish experience she wanted. Fish and chips paired with a well-built Guinness on a Dublin Saturday night. “There’s enough here to feed half a dozen people!”

  Isaac grinned, that rare grin that came from somewhere he didn’t realize he guarded so heavily. “You look like you’re prepping to eat every last bite.”

  “I’m going to put a hurting on this basket. Don’t doubt me.” She took a bite of her fried fish fillet and nearly groaned with pleasure. “Oh, man, this is good.”

  Isaac leaned forward and dragged his thumb across her bottom lip. “You had a little something right there.”

  Rachel almost choked. Again. She hadn’t been the only one to change direction without warning. Isaac’s touch had been purely sensual. Almost carnal. As if he had been flirting with undisguised intent, and Isaac didn’t strike her as one to flirt. At all. Confused, she down set her fork and picked up her beer, focused on taking a drink to buy herself time to respond.

  Isaac chose that moment to pick up his fork and stab a bite of fish. He saluted her with it before taking the bite, his eyes closing in bliss. “This really is excellent.”

  “As good as the restaurant you wanted to go to tonight?”

  He opened his eyes and looked at her, the solemnity of his gaze a weight she didn’t fully understand. “Better.”

  That one word, his acknowledgment, freed a part of her she hadn’t known was still chained by insecurity, a part of her that would stand her ground but still wanted his approval. Unsure what to say that wouldn’t make her sound like a blathering idiot, Rachel elected to fork up another bite of fish and chew slowly. She wouldn’t talk with her mouth full, but she did smile. And he smiled back.

  Who knew she’d find safety in good manners.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ISAAC WAS OFF CENTER. Proof?

  He.

  Had.

  Danced.

  And he’d enjoyed himself. Immensely.

  That hadn’t been part of the plan. Not that there’d been much of a plan to start with, inviting an essential stranger to Europe for the weekend. This was a prime example of why he lived a structured, preplanned, well-thought-out life. Surprises didn’t suit him one bit. This whole thing—the woman, the trip, dining in a pub, dancing with locals—had been one hell of a surprise.

  Not to say he wasn’t rolling with it. He was. Mostly due to the joy that seemed to bleed from Rachel’s pores and saturate anyone within a three-block radius. The woman was alive. Truly living. In the relatively short time they’d spent in the pub, Isaac had wondered for a brief moment what it might be like to be that free, what his life might have been had Mike not died under his watch. He had a snapshot of who he might have been, and it was sobering. Enough so that he’d handed off Rachel to a local man and walked off the dance floor.

  She hadn’t followed.

  Part of him had wanted her solace and was irritated she didn’t seek him out.

  Part of him had been proud of her for holding on to the person she’d clearly been working so hard to become. Or, more aptly, reclaim.

  From his corner booth, he’d watched Rachel twirl around the floor, watched her attempt a step dance similar to Riverdance and laugh wildly when she got tripped up. Had envied her the freedom she displayed as she kicked off her shoes and tried again. Publicly. And failed. Again. All while laughing aloud at her best effort that just hadn’t quite been good enough.

  She’d moved in time with the music as she made her way to his table. More than once she’d kindly passed on an offer to dance or to have another round courtesy of a local. By the time she’d made it to Isaac, she’d spoken to half the bar, and she’d known the names of half the people she’d talked to.

  “You want to take another trip around?” she asked.

  He considered her, with her hair pinned up in a messy bun, tendrils curling slightly in the pub’s humid warmth, the flush of exertion on her cheeks and the bright light of joy radiating from her eyes.

  “I’ll be sore tomorrow, but it will have been worth it.” She grinned even wider. “Did you see me try to step? It was a complete train wreck, but it was fun.” She reached across the table, she took the pint he’d been spinning slowly between his palms and downed half of it. “I’m going to need several bottles of water, too. Badly. The hotel will have it, don’t you think?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” He imagined her as she’d been last night, flushed and sweating for a different reason altogether, and his cock roused in his jeans.

  As if she could read minds, she slid closer and rested her chin on his shoulder, speaking directly into his ear. “You’ve given me the most amazing weekend.”

  “It’s not over.”

  “No. It’s not.” She discreetly nipped his earlobe, holding it for a second between her teeth before letting go. At the same time, she slid her hand up the inside of his thigh, reached his groin and cupped him gently, massaging his balls with her fingers as she traced his length with her thumb. “The evidence would suggest you enjoyed watching me dance, Mr. Miller.”

  Isaac shifted in his seat. Shivers ran through him when she laughed, her hot breath washing over his ear and neck and down the edge of his collar. His cock swelled even more, and Isaac began to wish away all the pub patrons.

  He twisted in his seat just enough that he could put his cheek next to hers and speak into her ear. “Rachel.” Gently taking her wrist, he stilled her hand. “You’re going to make it impossible to leave without causing a scene.”

  Her breath caught as his chest rubbed against her nipples. “So, it seems, are you.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  She traced the tip of her tongue along the outer shell of his ear. “A brazen, unapologetic...rapid exit.”

  “I’m good with that.”

  “To the hotel?”

  “Unless you truly want to cause a scene, yes.”

  “Where’s your driver?”

  “Gone for the night. We’re just a couple blocks from the hotel.”

  “Hurry.”

  The need in her voice made him want to stand on the tabletop and beat his chest like a maniac. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Heady stuff, that.

  He slid out of the booth and was amused when she cleverly angled herself in front of him so that the bulk of her coat hid the majority of his groin. She reached back and draped his arm over her shoulder to keep him close as they worked their way to the exit, she shout
ing goodbyes to her new acquaintances and receiving hearty farewells in return. They spilled out onto the sidewalk, the voices and music from the pub growing muffled as the heavy door shut with a whump behind them.

  “Which way?” she asked as she looked first left and then right.

  “Right.” He turned her and pointed. “See the bright light? That’s where we’re headed.” He took a step toward the hotel and stopped, looked back and held out his hand.

  Rachel looked from his face to his hand and back, clearly confused.

  He waggled his ungloved hand. “C’mon.”

  She took his hand in her own, laced her fingers through his without comment, and they started toward Isaac’s favorite Dublin hotel.

  The rain fell softer now, but it was still their steady companion as they made their way down Dublin’s busy sidewalks, past more well-lit pubs brimming with Saturday-night revelers and darkened storefronts locked up tight.

  Isaac held her hand without comment, but his insides warred. He knew he was treading a line that threatened to trip him up. And if he fell? He was screwed.

  He wasn’t stupid. Rachel would want more. She would deserve more. And he simply didn’t have it to give.

  So he would enjoy this weekend and, as planned, say farewell when they returned to the States early Monday morning. He’d return to his life, she’d return to hers and they’d have this weekend to look back on. Fond memories, but nothing more.

  But what if...?

  The forming thought made Isaac miss a step, and he actually stumbled.

  Rachel tightened her grip and grabbed his elbow with her free hand. “Little too much to drink, Isaac?” she asked with a broad grin.

  “Must’ve.” It was all he could come up with.

  Because no. No, no, no. No what-ifs.

  But...

  He couldn’t stop himself from wondering what it would be like to change “goodbye” into “see you later.” As in, later in the week. Or later in the day. Something. Anything other than a shake of hands and quick buss on the cheek and a permanent parting of ways.

  “Isaac?” Rachel tugged on his hand. “Isn’t this our stop?”

  He stopped and looked back at her, at the doorman, a man he recognized from previous trips, who was holding the lobby door open for them.

  “Yeah. It is.”

  “Serious wool-gathering going on in that big brain of yours.” She tugged his hand again. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, let’s go upstairs.”

  That voice of hers should come with a warning. Hell, she should be required to have it licensed.

  She smiled at him, the look slow and sultry and entirely suggestive. “I’m tired of walking.”

  “What would you rather do?” He had to know, had to hear her say she wanted him. And she came through as if she knew what he needed just then.

  Stepping into his personal space, she tilted her chin up until their gazes locked. Then she went up on tiptoe and kissed him softly, barely breaking away so that, when she spoke, her lips moved against his. “I’d rather be in our room, wearing nothing but the little silk number I picked up when you were so determined to go to the shoe department, watching you grow hard as I touch myself while thinking of all the things I want you to do to my body before sunrise.”

  “God help you.” He closed the fractional distance between them, hungry for her, devouring her mouth even as she devoured his in return.

  A discreet cough had him swimming to the surface of consciousness and looking about. An older couple shot them a disapproving look even as the doorman coughed again, still holding the door open.

  Isaac dug out a random Euro from his pocket and passed it to the man, not sure if he was giving him a five or a century note and not caring either way. He all but dragged a laughing Rachel in his wake, through the lobby and into the elevator, where he swiped his key card to the upper floor of the hotel.

  “The penthouse,” she said softly. “I’m sure this is common for you, but I’m not sure I could ever get used to living like this.”

  He didn’t look at her.

  Couldn’t.

  Not if he had a hope in hell of making it to the room versus hitting Stop and taking her right then.

  Never in his life had he wanted a woman the way he wanted Rachel.

  “Have the rules changed at all?” he asked, his voice low and almost ragged.

  “No.”

  He turned and pulled her into his embrace, kissing her with almost manic fervor, touching her where he knew she liked to be touched, and trying to take her higher even as he drove back the voice in his head that warned him he was treading far too close to the line he’d vowed to never cross.

  The line that would make her his.

  Forever.

  * * *

  Rachel’s body hummed with anticipation, every nerve charged. Electrified. What awaited her in their suite—suite!—was sheer, unapologetic pleasure. Hers for the taking. She would never be able to repay Isaac for what he had given her in this trip, but she could definitely do her best to create memories with him that would last them both after they said farewell.

  His mouth on hers was demanding, making it hard to think about anything but the moment at hand. Hard, but not impossible. Images fluttered through her mind, each one a snapshot of something different that she wanted to do with him. To him. For him. She wanted to give herself over to his keeping, knowing he’d take her so high she’d struggle to breathe, fight for oxygen and free-fall back to earth, where he would catch her...and do it all over again. The relief of having that in a lover was beyond definition. She knew she’d be taken care of, left satisfied, and would sleep in his comforting presence tonight and wake up in the morning to the security he offered.

  He broke the kiss and gave her a hard look. “You’re thinking too much.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’ll just have to redouble my efforts to fog your brain.”

  “If you double down, I’m going to die.”

  “Can’t have that, now, can we?” He moved his lips to her neck, obliterating any thought but where he might go next. They were in the elevator alone, and it was unlikely they’d be interrupted. The threat was still there, though, and it was a complete turn-on.

  Rachel let out a short, breathy laugh. Who knew she had a little exhibitionism lurking in her closet?

  “What in God’s name have I done to make you laugh?” he asked, his voice saturated with mock annoyance.

  “I was just imagining what I want to do in this elevator, and it struck me as a little funny that I would be so daring in what amounts to a public place.”

  “You had your hand on my cock in the pub,” he reminded her.

  Heat burned across her cheeks. “So I did.”

  “That was about as public as you can get.”

  “Maybe, but I still contend that that little exhibition wouldn’t hold a candle to me having your cock in my mouth if the elevator were to stop and the doors open to an old couple who hadn’t expected a pornographic peep show until the doors closed.”

  “Or they passed out.”

  “Or she gave me pointers.”

  “You don’t need pointers. Trust me.” The smile in his voice was clear, and unexpected laughter rumbled through his chest.

  She had been responsible for that. She made him smile. She made him laugh. She made him relax. Only she had managed to bring out this side of him. She was sure of it. The few times he’d let himself smile or laugh, the action had seemed to catch him off guard.

  “I have no idea what else you’re imagining doing in this death trap, but I’d be interested in a play-by-play.”

  To her dismay, the elevator chimed as it stopped. “Seems we’ll have to save the verbal rundown for another time. We’re here.”

  “Or the old couple’s on the other side
of the door.”

  She glanced at the floor number displayed. “I doubt it.”

  He leaned back to see her face. “Promise you’ll tell me later.”

  “Why don’t I just show you now?”

  His eyes darkened, pupils growing wide with his elevated arousal. “More than a fair compromise.”

  With a fistful of his shirt, she backed away and pulled him with her, letting him guide her—a little pressure to the left. A little to the right. Before she knew it, he was squeezing her hips and backing her into the door.

  He let go of one hip and slipped the key card into the door. The electronic latch buzzed then clicked, and the door swung open. With a deft move, he spun her around, held her close until the door latched, then backed her into it again.

  She arched an eyebrow even as she hooked a leg around his upper thigh, pressing her sex against his rock-hard erection.

  Isaac stared at her, so serious, his eyes dark with passion.

  She let him look until she couldn’t stand the tension anymore. Running her hands through his hair, she pulled his head down to her as she rose to meet him, claiming his mouth in an open declaration of intent. She would have him here. Now. The way she wanted. He need only agree.

  And he did.

  Lips fused, they explored each other, teeth nipping, tongues dancing, until his breath was hers and her breath was his. This wasn’t a seduction but a culmination, the place they’d been headed all day through flirtatious words and teasing touches. There was nowhere else they could’ve ended up but here, in each other’s arms.

  Rachel fumbled with the hem of his shirt, pulling it free before waging war with the buttons. Frustration peaked fast, and she tugged, sending buttons flying.

  “I’m going to have to send you my tailor’s bill,” he said against her mouth.

  “I’ll give you my address.”

  “Later.”

  Isaac rolled his shoulders and shed the shirt, leaving his chest bare for her to explore.

  Eyes closed, Rachel feasted on the tactile experience, letting her fingers run across the ridges and planes of his chest and abdomen, the sculpted perfection of his six-pack and up again across his pectoral muscles. He was perfection. Everything she wanted. Everything she craved.