by Tracy Wolff
So that she knew it, too.
Reaching for him, Camille cupped his face in her hands and brought his mouth back to hers. The second their lips met, he gave himself over to the conflagration gathering between them, around them.
With a groan, he slid his tongue inside her mouth, thrusting between her lips the way he wanted to thrust between her thighs. Demanding more and more from her, demanding all that she had to give.
CAMILLE WHIMPERED AT Matt’s blatant invasion—his blatant claiming—and tried to pull away, to regroup. But he refused to let her go, his tongue stroking every inch of her mouth. His chest pressed against hers. His arms held her tightly to his long, lean body, so that her stomach was pressed firmly against his own.
Need raced through her—it had been so long since she’d held him like this. So long since she’d been held like this.Tangling her tongue with his, she sucked him fully into her mouth and stroked the bottom of his tongue with her own. He growled deep in his throat while his hands twisted in her hair, holding her face to his.
Camille relinquished his tongue with a moan, tilting her head back until she could see his face. Until their eyes once again met. His were so dark that the pupils had disappeared, so deep that she swore she could fall in and keep falling.
But wasn’t that what she’d already done, all those months ago? Fallen for him when she’d promised herself she wouldn’t? Fallen for him despite the risk that came with caring for someone?
Usually, the threat of that kind of pain was enough to get her to back off. Enough to let her believe that she didn’t need to be held. Didn’t need to be loved.
As she looked at Matt in that moment—at the tenderness and the desire that existed side by side on his face—she knew that she’d been lying to herself all along.
She didn’t want to pretend anymore. Didn’t want to get up in the morning and tell herself that it was better that she was alone. For a while it had been better, but not now. Not with Matt in her life.
While she’d lain in that cemetery yesterday afternoon, she’d seen the path she was creating for herself—and it was nowhere she wanted to be. She had a baby on the way and a man she cared about more than she had ever cared about another human being, and for once she wasn’t going to run. She would take a leap of faith, would grab on to the future she wanted with both hands and see where it took her.
Looking into his eyes, she promised herself that she wasn’t going to run anymore. Matt was everything she wanted and more than she deserved and she would not turn her back on what they had simply because she was scared.
Suddenly, she was in a huge hurry, but Matt seemed almost hesitant, as if he was afraid to hurt her with her new, unwieldy body.
Determined to change that, she smiled sexily and murmured, “I won’t break, you know. I’m still the same woman I was six months ago.”
It was all the invitation he needed. Breathing harshly, he backed her up against the glass door that led to the backyard and held her there as his lips ran over her neck and shoulders and the hollow of her throat.
Fire raced through her wherever he touched, and she could tell he felt the same way. His breathing was harsh, his muscles tight, his arousal hard where it nestled in the juncture of her thighs.
And he was staring at her, watching her, with eyes of melted chocolate. She glanced down, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to see herself through his eyes. To understand what made him lick his lips while he gazed at her, to know why he was so aroused by this new shape of hers.
Her breasts were full, swollen, her nipples bright pink and hard as rubies. Her skin was pale, the dark blue veins of her breasts evident beneath the oh, so delicate skin. Her stomach jutted out beneath them, round and hard and ungainly, but he didn’t seem to mind, his hands racing over the taut skin as if it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
His hands moved up, cupped her breasts, and she gasped at how good he felt.
“Are they sore?” he whispered, bending down to trace the upper curve of her breast with his mouth. “The books say—”
“Not too sore. Not if you’re gentle.” Her hands covered his, squeezed, in a plea for him to touch her. Really touch her.
“I will be. I promise.” His tongue licked over her breast—softly, sweetly, tenderly. Tears sprang to her eyes at the care he was taking with her, but she blinked them back. She wasn’t going to break down—not this time. No matter how cherished he made her feel.
Then his mouth turned rougher; darkness and flames licked their way from her nipples to her stomach, down her arms and legs, until they coalesced in the ache between her thighs.
“Matt, please.” She thrashed against him, bucking and arching as she tried to coax him into giving her what she wanted. What she needed.
He only laughed and pulled his mouth away completely, his breath a soft breeze over her achingly aroused flesh. She grabbed his head in her hands, her fingers tangling in his silky, too-long hair as she tried to force his mouth back to her distended nipple.
“Don’t tease me,” she pleaded as she arched against him.
“Baby, I haven’t begun to tease you.” He curled his tongue around her areola, sucked it into his mouth with a power so strong he had her gasping.
“Too much?” he demanded, immediately softening the pressure.
“No, no, no!” It was a chant, a plea for him to continue. When he did, the pleasure was so intense she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming.
“Take me.” She didn’t care that she was begging, didn’t care that she sounded hot and needy and completely overwhelmed. The only thing she could think about was getting Matt inside her, and she would do anything to get him there. Risk anything to have him where she so desperately needed him.
“That’s what I’m doing.” His breath was hot against her breast, his hair cool against her neck and chin. She was pushing against him, whimpering, pleading with every weapon she had for him to put her out of her misery.
He refused to be hurried, no matter how restlessly her legs moved against his or how desperately her hands clutched his hair. He pushed her and pushed her, licking delicately, nibbling softly, until she was on the brink of sobbing. Only then, when she was strung tight and on the edge of madness, did he drop to his knees in front of her.
“Oh, please!” She couldn’t stop the whimper that welled in her throat, any more than she could keep from twisting the auburn hair in her suddenly tight fists.
Rough hands parted her trembling thighs, and he stared at her with burning, intense eyes. “You’re so beautiful, Camille. So unbelievably beautiful.” He reached one callused finger out and stroked right down the center of her.
She trembled again, his words and touch arrowing through her brain to her heart and onto her sex in one burning line. No man had ever looked at this most private part of her and called her beautiful before. No man had ever stared at her as if it was agony not to be inside her. No man but Matt.
The thought made heat explode within her, shooting her arousal from hot to feverish to downright frenzied. She could feel an orgasm welling powerfully within her and she stood there, shaking, while he brought her right to the brink with almost no effort at all.
“I like this,” he murmured, leaning forward so his mouth brushed against her bare inner thigh and the small butterfly tattoo she’d gotten several months before. “It’s new.”
“I got it in Brazil.”
He nuzzled the small tattoo, licked it. “It suits you,” he murmured, running his lips over her hip bone and abdomen. As he stopped to nibble at each birthmark and freckle, she was deathly afraid that her legs would give out beneath her.
“Matt, I’m going to fall.” Her hands clutched his shoulders.
“I won’t let you.” His mouth closed softly over her navel, his tongue incredibly gentle as it probed her belly button and the soft skin of her abdomen.
And then he was moving on, moving down, his lips skimming over the curve of her stomach, down the side of he
r hip. His tongue made little forays underneath her hip bone, delicate little touches that lit her up like a Roman candle. Sharp little nips that had her gasping for air.
“Matt.” It was a cry of agony, a plea born of desperation, and his hands clenched her thighs as he realized just how far he had pushed her.
SHUDDERS RACKED MATT’S BODY as he buried his face between Camille’s thighs. She smelled delicious, like brown sugar and vanilla and sweet, sweet strawberries. He paused for a minute; simply absorbed her smell into himself. He took a deep breath, then another and another, while his thumbs stroked closer and closer to the slick folds of her sex.
With each slide of his thumb, she trembled more. With each clasp of his hands, she took a shuddering breath. And when he moved forward, blowing one long, warm stream of air against her, she started to cry, to sob, her body spasming with even the lightest touch of his against it.He was on fire, his erection so hard that he feared he might explode if he didn’t take her soon. But he wasn’t ready for it to end, wasn’t ready to send her careening over the edge so he could follow behind.
He wanted to savor her, to push her, push himself, higher than they’d ever gone before.
But she was coming apart, her body so sensitive and responsive that it humbled him even as it made him sweat.
“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered as he delivered one long lick along her gorgeous sex. “So incredibly responsive I could just—” He stopped talking as Camille screamed, her hands clutching his hair as flames ripped through her. He kissed her a second time, and then a third, lingering on her most sensitive spot.
She sobbed as she hurtled over the edge, orgasm roaring through her body like a series of shooting stars. He held her while she came, stoking the flames higher and higher until she was screaming silently, her hands clutching his shoulders in an effort to pull him up and into her.
Her need sent him over his own edge, and he stood in a rush. “I need to be inside you,” he growled, as he turned her and pressed her front against the cool glass door.
Skimming his mouth over her neck, he reached between her legs to make sure that she was still ready for him. She was slick, swollen and so hot he shuddered with a desperate need to be inside her.
With a groan, he pulled her hips back, one of his hands cupping her stomach for support. And then, with his knees shaking and body throbbing, he sank into her, slowly.
She felt amazing, smooth and silky and so hot he feared she would burn him alive—but what a way for him to go. With her wrapped around him like a fist, her strong body quivering against his, he wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever. Working his way inside her as she had found her way inside him. Taking her as she took all of him.
Camille moaned as Matt entered her, shocked at how good he felt inside of her. At how much it felt like she finally, truly, had come home with him wrapped around her, sheltering her. Arching back, she tried desperately to get closer to him.
He held her steady, his thrusts more gentle than she’d expected from him, certainly more gentle than he had ever been before, and she struggled to find her voice.
“It’s okay,” she gasped, pressing her bottom into his stomach. “You won’t hurt me.”
His only answer was a low, deep groan as he thrust and retreated, thrust and retreated. Taking her with more care and reverence than he could have imagined possible.
“Matt,” she gasped. “Please.”
He pressed forward, then rested his cheek against her temple. “Is this okay?” he asked through gritted teeth, his breath coming in harsh pants against her ears. “Am I hurting you?”
“No, no, no!” She answered in a series of tortured gasps, so turned on by the care he was taking with her that she would have fallen if he hadn’t been there to support her. She was trapped between a rock and a hard place—the stationary, unyielding door at her front, and his strong, immovable body behind her. She was trembling, shaking, barely able to hold herself up.
And then she didn’t have to, because he was there, supporting her—his body an exquisite pressure within her own. He began to move—slow, tender thrusts that glided him in and out of her. The pleasure built and built until she was once again on the edge.
With the last of her waning strength, she pulled him against her as hard as she could, wanting him as deep as he could go.
He wasn’t expecting it, and the move broke his composure, his unbelievable control. He went over the edge, took her with him in a powerful maelstrom of emotion and ecstasy that hollowed her out.
In those moments, Matt was all around her, inside her. Not just in her body, but in her mind and heart and soul. She felt the past melting away, the future—bright and bold and beautiful—coalescing within her, filling her up.
The sensations kept coming, never-ending waves of ecstasy that shot up her spine, her arms and legs, through every part of her. In a small part of her mind, she was conscious of him stiffening against her, of his body jerking inside hers while he came in a series of long, beautiful pulses.
When it was over, he didn’t collapse on her as she’d expected. As she’d craved. Instead, he leaned down and swept her feet out from under her, cradling her against his powerful chest. Then he moved through the house to his bedroom, where he laid her gently on the navy blue comforter. He joined her, ran his hands over the taut skin of her stomach.
“I didn’t hurt you—or the baby?”
“Oh, no. Not at all.” She took his hands in her own, brought them to her mouth and kissed him. “It was the most amazing experience of my life.”
“You’re amazing,” he said as he trailed kisses over her shoulder and down the slope of her arm. His voice was gravelly, rusty, as if it had been too long since he’d last spoken.
“You don’t have to say that,” she answered, rolling to her side and pulling her knees up to her beach ball of a stomach, so she wouldn’t feel so exposed. “I don’t have to say anything.” He ran a hand through her hair. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”
With a smile, she pulled him into her arms and reveled in the feel of his big, warm body against her heart—reveled in what it felt like to finally come home.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THEY SPENT THE DAY IN BED, cuddling and making love and laughing about unimportant things. When she was hungry, Matt whipped up a couple of omelets, then dragged her outside with him to eat on the patio.
His house was on a hill overlooking the lake and they watched the sun set over the water as they debated baby names. “If it’s a girl, I think we should name her Miranda,” Camille suggested. “Or maybe Karina or Serendipity.”Matt choked on his water. “You want to name our child Serendipity? Not in this lifetime.”
“Why not? It’s a cool name. Plus, she’ll be totally unique.”
“Yeah, well, unique isn’t exactly what all kids dream of being—especially in junior high.”
“Is that bitterness I hear?”
He laughed. “Not on my part. My oldest sister had a rough time in school.”
“Because of her name?”
“Partly. Rhiannon is no picnic for a thirteen-year-old, but it was a lot of stuff. Suffice it to say, she was unique and that wasn’t appreciated by her peers.”
One look at Matt’s face told her Rhiannon’s suffering hadn’t stopped when she’d graduated and she wanted to ask him about it, but he had huge no-trespassing signs posted, so she let it go. “Okay. No Serendipity, then. How about Karina?”
“How about Lucy?”
“Eeew! No!”
“Okay, then. Maybe we should talk boy names.”
“Maybe. How about Jacob?”
“Actually, that’s the name of Reece’s little boy. He was born a few weeks before you came back.”
“Gabriel? Caine? Adam?”
He burst out laughing. “What’s with the Biblical names?”
“I don’t know. I guess I like them because they’re strong. Filled with tradition.”
“This from a woman
who wanted to name her daughter Serendipity? Isn’t there some middle ground, somewhere?”
“Matthew Jr.?”
“No. Definitely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t need to prove my manhood by saddling my son with my name. He can be his own person.”
“Unique, you mean?”
“Ha-ha.”
“Maybe we should wait until we find out its sex before we argue names.” She moved to the swing he’d installed the summer before, sat down and began to slowly rock back and forth. “Look at this sunset. Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re not even looking at it.”
“I’m looking at something better.”
Camille felt her cheeks warm. “Laying on the charm, Matt? I thought you’d figured out I was a sure thing.”
He sat beside her, pulled her against him. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Trying to charm you?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe.” She paused, then asked, “What are you doing?”
“Admiring the mother of my child.”
“Ah, yes. Because hippos are quite the standard in beauty these days.”
“Why are you so down on yourself? You look fabulous pregnant.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because it would be nice to get out of bed in the morning without having to roll off the edge.”
He laughed. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I do. Seriously, most mornings I flop around like a beached whale trying to find its way back to the water.”
“Do you mind?”