An Unlikely Match (The Match Series - Book #1)

by Dunlop, Barbara

  She was about to grab the front of his shirt and drag him into it, but a better plan popped into her mind.

  “Morgan?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Those chocolate almonds in the minibar?”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “I ate all of mine earlier.” She glanced meaningfully at his closed door. “I was wondering...”

  “You want my minibar almonds?”

  “If you don’t mind. I’m a little hungry.”

  He grinned, fishing in his shirt pocket. “You’re always hungry.”

  “I have a very fast metabolism.”

  He extracted the key card. “Lucky thing for you, or you’d have to give up ballet for weightlifting.”

  She struggled not to grin at her genius as he turned to unlock the door. Truth was, she had no idea if the minibars held chocolate almonds or not. She was bluffing here.

  “Come on in,” he offered as he pushed open the door and moved inside. “My minibar is your minibar.”

  “Thanks, Morgan.”

  The door clicked shut behind her.

  “Don’t mention—”

  She grasped his shirtfront and came up on her toes, planting a firm kiss on his lips.

  “What the—”

  “I changed my mind,” she muttered against his mouth. “I’m hungry for a kiss goodnight.”

  “Amelia, you don’t—”

  She kissed him again, longer this time, softening and parting her lips, anchoring her hands on his broad shoulders. She moved her body to his, and his arms encircled her waist. He drew her against his body, taking control of the kiss, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth.

  Finally, finally, she was getting somewhere.

  His arms were strong as they held her. His taste was sweet in her mouth. And she was surrounded by his scent, his very essence. As the kiss dragged on, she felt as if her insides were melting. Her arms automatically tightened around her neck, while her nipples hardened against the broad heat of his chest.

  She wanted to feel more. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, slick and wet. She wanted to see him naked, for him to see her. She wanted to throw caution out the window and tumble into his bed.

  “Amelia,” he breathed, stroking one hand over her hair.

  She thrilled to the sensation.

  Then his hand came to rest on her bare shoulder, squeezing it gently, before the pads of his fingers swirled their way toward her neck. He kissed her there, urging her head back, the heat of his mouth branding its way back along her collarbone. Her arousal intensified, swift and insistent, lifting her on a rosy haze of hormones.

  She waited for him to move to her breasts, to push off the dress and palm her aching nipples, or pull them into his hot mouth.

  She groaned at the very thought.

  The sound brought him back to her lips. He kissed her again, which was nice, which was fantastic, but it wasn’t getting her where she wanted to go.

  She reached for the front of his shirt, popping the top button.

  His hand closed over hers, stopping her.

  Okay, this was ridiculous. Chivalry was one thing, but surely the man wasn’t made of stone. “You know what would be perfect?” she whispered to him.

  “You’re perfect,” he growled.

  “A perfect end to your high school experience?”

  “We’re not in high school.”

  “Making love with the head cheerleader.”

  He abruptly jerked away, gaping down at her. “What?”

  He had to have heard her. But, just in case, she repeated herself—though it didn’t have quite the same feel with him staring down at her like she’d grown two heads. “Making love with the head cheerleader.”

  He took a step back. “Is that what this is?”

  She was completely baffled. “What did you think this was?”

  “Pity sex?” he barked. “You’re offering me pity sex?”

  Okay, baffled was gone. Now she was angry. What the hell was his problem?

  She marched two steps forward, poking her finger against his chest. “First of all, buddy. How dare you accuse me of offering you pity sex? I don’t do pity sex.”

  His expression faltered.

  But she wasn’t finished. “Second, are you a complete idiot?”

  She paused for an answer, but he didn’t give her one.

  “For a genius, you are really frickin’ stupid. I’m not acting here. I haven’t been acting for hours. You’re compassionate, Morgan. You’re funny. You’re smart. And you are hands-down, no-holds-barred hot. You’re like this super guy who’s been in disguise all this time. You knocked a jerk flat for me tonight. You cook for me. You listen to my problems. You give me advice. You bought me a dress and flew me halfway across the state.”

  “You really don’t need to breathe when you talk, do you?”

  “Shut up,” she practically shouted. “I’ve been throwing myself at you for two weeks. If you don’t want me, tell me. But you kiss me like you want me. You hug me like you want me.”

  “I want you.”

  She stopped. She blinked.

  “I want you,” he repeated, tone firm as he snaked an arm around the small of her back and dipped his head.

  A split second later, his lips met hers in a cataclysmic kiss. They were hot and firm, moist and parted. His tongue plunged into her ready mouth, even as his strong arms wrapped around her waist, dragging her tight against him.

  She hugged him in return, giving in to the power of their embrace. In response, he lifted her from the floor, straight up so they were the same height. His arms shifted and settled beneath her rear, and she reflexively wrapped her legs around his waist, forcing her skirt to bunch up at her thighs as the kiss went on. Her thin panties rubbed against his slacks, sensations raw and exquisite between them.

  She could feel his arousal, hot and firm against her sensitive flesh. She arched her back, trying to get closer.

  “We have to slow this down,” he rasped.

  “Why?” Who wanted to slow it down?

  “I want it to be good for you.”

  It was already good for her. It was borderline fantastic for her. She was the last person they needed to worry about.

  “What’s good for you, Morgan? What do you want?”

  His tone turned to a growl. “To rip that thousand-dollar dress from your body.”

  His words rocked her back. “You paid a thousand dollars for this dress?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Like that was going to happen. “Maybe we should use the zipper.”

  He chuckled. “Okay.”

  He turned, perching her on the edge of the telephone desk. Then his expression softened. His hand moved to her face, palm cradling her cheek. He bent his head to kiss her slowly, with infinite care.

  Through the hormones raging within her, she told herself to be patient. They had all night. Well, at least they had what was left of the night. It was nearly two a.m., and their flight took off at eight. Which didn’t really leave all that much time.

  She squirmed under his excruciatingly thorough kisses. “I meant now, Morgan.”

  He lifted his head, looking dazed. “Huh?”

  “My zipper. Now.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled in obvious amusement, even as he reached around her back. “Oh, Amelia, you just get better and better.”

  He slid the zipper to the small of her back.

  She pushed the single strap of gold lace off her shoulder. “Let’s hope that trend holds.”

  Then she let the fabric whisper down, shimmying out and tossing the dress to a nearby chair. He stared at her strapless bra and white lace panties, still and silent for a long moment.

  “The trend holds,” he finally whispered.

  She wasn’t shy or insecure. But the compliment warmed her. She wanted to be beautiful for him.

  He braced his hands on either side of the wooden desk. He kissed the tip of her shoulder, slowly making
his way toward her neck, to her cheek, and across to her lips. He stroked his hands through her hair, then bracketed her face and deepened his kiss.

  Arousal pulsed strong and steady from the core of her body out to the tips of her fingers and toes. She arched toward him, plucking at the buttons of his shirt, baring his chest to touch his skin against hers.

  “You feel so good,” she groaned, sliding her hands over his pecs, up to his broad shoulders. He was tougher than she’d imagined, more defined, more masculine. She wound her arms around his neck, tightening to fuse them more closely together.

  “I’m nothing compared to you.”

  “You’re everything, Morgan.”

  He kissed her deeply, one hand moving to her back, flicking the clasp of her bra so that it fell away. His hand closed over her breast, and she nearly melted at the sensation. This was Morgan. He was touching her. He was kissing her. Her fantasy had finally come to life.

  Her nerve endings scrambled into a group, and her movements became impatient. She reached for the front of his slacks, popping the button, pushing the zipper out of the way.

  He grasped her panties, stripping them down her legs and tossing them away. She yanked down his pants then pulled him close. When he finally pushed against her, she held her breath, savoring every millisecond as they fused together.

  “This is so good,” he rasped in her ear.

  His fingers tangled in her hair. He kissed her hard and deep. And it got even better. His hand scooped beneath her, tilting her to him, holding her steady as he increased his rhythm.

  Colors swirled wildly in her brain. Her toes curled in, while her hands tightened on his biceps. Sharp pulses grew where their bodies joined, growing bolder, swirling out to electrify her skin.

  “Morgan,” she gasped. “Please.”

  “Now?” he rumbled.

  She couldn’t answer. She was incapable of speech. Sound rushed past her ears, and she squeezed him harder, desperately seeking an anchor.

  “Now?” he repeated.

  She gave an inarticulate whimper.

  “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

  He sped their movements until she was gasping for air. Her nerves shimmered on the precipice, higher, then higher, then higher still.

  “Amelia!”

  She spun completely out of control, catapulting over the edge of reason, as waves of pure ecstasy washed over her, one after the other. Her body tensed, then floated, then finally fell limp. If it wasn’t for Morgan’s arms around her, she might have melted into a puddle on the desktop.

  His breathing was ragged as he stroked his palms up and down her slick back. He kissed her temple, then her hair, then her ear. “We didn’t—” he gasped.

  It took her a few breaths before she could speak. “Well, I sure did.”

  He chuckled, and she felt the rumble all through her body. “We didn’t make it to the bed,” he clarified.

  “Was that the plan?”

  “It was my plan.”

  “So, you’re a bed-sex kind of guy?”

  “What’s a bed-sex kind of guy?”

  She drew back. “It’s not a euphemism, Morgan. I mean a guy who has sex in a bed.”

  He gave a helpless shrug. “I guess I am.”

  She fought a grin. “Sorry I messed that up for you.”

  “Not a problem.” He hoisted her effortlessly into his arms.

  “Hey. What are you doing?”

  “Fixing the problem.” He carried her across the room to deposit her on the turned-down bed.

  The sheets were cool against her skin. A split second later, his big, warm body was in the bed beside her.

  “We still had sex on the desk,” she pointed out.

  He reached out to smooth a stray lock of hair from her cheek. “I can live with that.”

  He fell silent, his breathing even.

  “Are you going to sleep now?” she asked, wishing the night didn’t have to end. She let herself curl against him, resting her head on his chest to listen to the beat of his heart.

  “I’m not asleep already?” he asked. “Because this sure feels like a dream.”

  “A good dream?” she had to ask.

  “A fantastic dream.”

  She trailed her fingertips along his chest, feeling a twinge of guilt for dragging him to Sacramento in the first place. “I’m sorry the reunion didn’t go better for you.”

  His arms folded around her, and he burrowed his face against the crook of her neck. “What reunion?”

  He kissed his way back to her mouth. His hand closed over her breast. And the insistent glow of arousal came back to life insider her.

  o o o o

  “Morgan!” The panicked sound of Amelia’s voice jolted him out of a sound sleep.

  He sat straight up, searching the sunny room for the source of her upset. “What’s wrong?”

  She was scrambling from the bed. “We missed our plane. It’s nine o’clock.”

  “Oh, that. I switched the flight.” He blinked the sleep from his eyes, focusing in on her naked back.

  “What?” She turned. Her naked front was even better.

  “I switched our flight. We don’t have to leave until tonight.”

  “How did you do that? When did you do that?” She truly was the most beautiful woman in the world, deep auburn hair, wide green eyes, slim shoulders, a trim stomach, shapely legs, and the most perfect, pink-tipped breasts imaginable.

  “You were asleep,” he answered. “I used my cell phone. We nerds know how to do things like that.”

  “But...” She glanced helplessly around.

  He rolled to his feet. “Why don’t you hop in the shower? Give me your room key, and I’ll grab your suitcase. That way we can go get some breakfast.”

  “I am hungry,” she ventured.

  “I had no doubt whatsoever.”

  She rubbed her eyes. “What time did we get to sleep?”

  “Maybe four.”

  She moved toward him. “And you went to the trouble to change our tickets before going to sleep?”

  “I didn’t want to get up at six.”

  She smiled, and her green eyes glowed, all but taking his breath away. Then she put a hand on his shoulder, came up on her toes, and gave him a kiss on the lips. “What would I do without you?”

  “Probably take the bus back to Pasadena.” He resisted the urge to pull her against him and deepen the kiss. It was morning now, and their stolen night had come to an end.

  “A shower sounds like a great idea.” She drew back, turning toward the bathroom.

  “Where’s your key?” he called after her.

  “In the little purse on the—” She glanced around the room. “Ah, there it is. On the brown chair.”

  “Got it,” said Morgan.

  With the shower running in the bathroom, he stepped into a pair of slacks and tossed on last night’s shirt. Amelia’s room was directly across the hall, so it took only a moment to get there.

  Her suitcase was open on the bed, mostly still packed, with a few items strewn around the room. The bathroom looked like a storm had been through. He chuckled, suspecting that’s how she’d gotten ready for the party in such a hurry.

  He realized that things he found annoying in most people, he found endearing in Amelia. At the same moment, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He wore a stupid, sappy grin, and his eyes were alight with affection for her.

  He knew he was making a big mistake. Last night couldn’t have possibly meant the same thing to her as it had to him.

  For some reason she’d found him attractive, but that was it. Morgan and Pasadena itself were merely a blip on her radar. She was energetic, exciting and impulsive, barely getting started in her life. She had no idea where she’d end up next month, next week, or even tomorrow. If he didn’t get his feelings in check, it was going to hurt like hell when she moved on.

  Even so, the knowledge didn’t put the brakes on his self-destructive pattern. He’d chosen t
he latest possible flight back to Pasadena, and he fully intended to enjoy the entire day with Amelia. He packed her things into the suitcase and told his logical brain it would just have to shut up and wait.

  Back in his room, Amelia was sitting on the bed, hair wet, bundled in a fluffy, white robe. The vee neck gaped away from her body, and he could see her cleavage, dewy from the shower.

  “It was a whole lot of fun, Auntie,” she was saying into the phone.

  She caught his eye, gave him a grin, and his heart did a double beat in his chest. It took all of his willpower not to push her back into the mattress again, slip the robe open and kiss his way across her creamy skin.

  “Morgan’s a very good dancer.” She listened for a moment. “We’ve only just met. Well, three weeks.” She gave a pause. “Yes.” Another pause. “I know.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’m only twenty-two. Women these days have other aspirations in life.”

  Amelia stood and motioned for Morgan to put the suitcase on the bed. Then, while she listened to her aunt, she opened the case, rustled around and retrieved a hairbrush.

  Grinning, she gave Morgan a once-over. “He’s quite handsome. A little nerdy around the edges, but he’s working on that.”

  Morgan kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt, intending to take a shower himself.

  Amelia followed him into the bathroom, pulling the brush through her thick, wet hair. “I’ll tell him you said so.” Then, she sobered. “No, nothing so far.” She paused, and their gazes met in the mirror. “I guess as long as it takes.”

  Morgan retrieved his toothbrush, spreading on some mint paste.

  “I will,” said Amelia. “I love you, too.”

  As he brushed his teeth, he battled a growing heaviness in his chest. He knew deep down, this intimate little interlude with Amelia was going to haunt him for a very long time.

  “Bye, Auntie.” Amelia disconnected the call.

  While Morgan rinsed his mouth and spat out the water, his own cell phone chimed from the bedroom.

  “My aunt says to tell you I’m a great catch,” Amelia laughed.

  “Noted,” he joked back, keeping his tone light as he headed for the phone.

  Amelia called from behind him. “She says in her day twenty-two was rather old to still be single.”

  “Maybe we should have gone with the white dress.”