"You okay?"
She nodded, swallowed. Hard. "Undress."
He balked. She wasn't surprised. He didn't like being ordered around any more than she did. "First, I want you to—"
"Undress."
"—turn around. Please."
"Why?" She had a pretty good idea of why, actually. But something contrary in her nature had her insisting he say it out loud.
And he did. "Because I want to see that amazing tattoo. I didn't get a good look at it last week. Everything was kind of hazy that night. It happened as if in a dream. A really good dream, but a dream nonetheless."
She considered whether to hold the line on him about this, to insist that he take off his clothes first. But then again, what would that gain her except a false feeling of control? It was called making love for a reason, after all. It took two and both of them should be getting what they wanted out of the experience.
If it gave him pleasure to look at her backside…
"Fair enough." She turned and showed him what he wanted to see.
Silence. She stared at a couple of framed prints on the far wall and felt her own nakedness acutely.
Then he said it again. "So damn beautiful." The air in the room shifted as he stepped closer. She felt his touch, starting low on one side, tracing the vines in their curling, dangerous, thorny pattern, pausing to caress the roses, and then moving on. "Tell me again. How you got it…"
"In Mexico, spring break my senior year. Me and three girlfriends. We all decided to get tattoos. Just lucky, I guess, that the guy we went to was a true artist."
"How long did it take?"
"Hours and hours. And it hurt like a sonofagun. My girlfriends all got itty-bitty ladybugs and butterflies. Not me. I was feeling empowered, I guess you could say. I had to make a statement, all the way from my butt halfway up my back."
He made a low, admiring sound and continued tracing the thorny vines, touching the red blooms, until he was brushing the other side of her waist. His hand settled there, clasping.
Claiming. He pulled her in close to him, her back to his front. She felt his body warmth acutely, even through his clothes. His arousal pressed into the tattoo he'd just traced and his breath stirred her hair. The scent of him came to her, pleasing to her, as always. She reached back to wrap her hand around his neck, to feel the warmth of his skin against her palm. And then she turned her head to him.
His mouth settled on hers in a kiss so sweet and deep it made her melt inside.
He turned her around so she faced him again and he touched her breasts, brushing the nipples, one and then the other. And then clasping the left one in a way that was somehow cherishing and so sexy, both at once.
"The night we met…" His thumb flicked, teasing her nipple. "When you turned over and stretched out on your stomach, after that first time we made love…"
"Yeah?"
"Your skin was so smooth, shiny with sweat, and I saw those black vines, the thorns, the deep, red roses…"
"Hmm?" The sound rose from her like a purr from a happy cat.
"I almost came again. Right then and there, out of nowhere."
She couldn't help smiling, remembering. "That was a good night."
"That was a night I'll never forget."
"Well, and how could you? We made Kira that night—which reminds me. Condoms?"
"In the drawer." He gestured toward the nightstand by the head of the bed.
That eased her mind. They didn't need another slipup. "So, then…?"
He knew what she wanted. And he put up no resistance that time. He took a step back and he started peeling off his clothes, tossing them toward a chair several feet away. Some of them hit the mark, some didn't. He didn't seem to care much either way.
When he was naked, she sighed. He'd made a lot of trouble for her in her life, but he'd brought more joy than heartache. After all, he'd given her Kira. And even though he hadn't wanted to marry her back then, well, it wasn't as if she'd expected marriage. Far from it. Once she'd accepted that she would be a single mom, she'd been sure he would fade from her life and her baby's life, too, that she would have to decide whether to track him down for child support or let it go.
How wrong she'd been. She had totally underestimated him. He had stuck by her. No, they weren't married. But he was a hands-on, dedicated dad.
They were a team, really, in their commitment to their little girl. And in their friendship, which had slowly taken form and grown over the years, totally beyond her expectations.
He chuckled low. "You've got that look."
"What look?"
"That sentimental look."
"Naw," she lied. And changed the subject. "I was just thinking that I can understand why you need a gym in your house, after all." He had one in the basement. She'd made fun of it the first time she saw it.
He looked puzzled. "My home gym? You were getting sentimental over my exercise equipment?"
She blew out an impatient breath. "Don't you know a compliment when you hear it?"
"Uh. Guess not."
"Duh. I was thinking how hot you are."
He didn't buy it for a minute. "No, you weren't. You were thinking what a pain in the ass I am, but you're crazy about me anyway."
A burst of laughter escaped her. "You do surprise me sometimes."
He reached out and reeled her in. It was a delicious shock, to feel her naked body pressed to his, her softness against his hardness. "Let me surprise you some more."
She gasped when he slid his hand down between them, skimming her belly, delving into the close-trimmed curls between her thighs, parting her, rubbing her, finding just the right place…
How was it a bean counter knew just the right place? She let her head fall back. She moaned at the ceiling.
"Wet," he whispered, nipping her ear, then licking the side of her neck in one long, slow, thrilling stroke. Below, his fingers worked their special magic. "You're so wet for me. So silky. So sweet…"
She couldn't talk by then. She could only moan and clutch his powerful shoulders and move her hips in rhythm with his caressing hand.
He caught her earlobe between his teeth and bit down just hard enough to multiply the pleasure he was giving her with those knowing, clever fingers of his. "I love the way you smell. The way you move when I'm touching you like this. I love the feel of your skin under my hands…"
It happened so fast—the rising, the soft, pulsing explosion. She fell back to the bed with a cry of fulfillment.
He followed her down, his fingers still touching her, stroking her, increasing the pleasure until it was unbearable it was so good. She tossed her head from side to side, making guttural sounds deep in her throat.
Finally, her climax hit the peak and hovered there. She moaned in satisfaction as the pleasure faded slowly down into a glow of fulfillment.
When she opened her eyes, Matt was stretched out on his side next to her, his head braced on his hand, grinning down at her.
He said, "You're amazing."
And she couldn't help returning his grin. "Me? All I did was moan and wiggle around."
He nuzzled her cheek. "But it's the way you moan. And you're so sexy when you wiggle." He traced a caress down the inside of her arm. "We should have done this years ago."
His words brought all her doubts back in full force. They were messing with a damn good relationship, taking a chance they should have known better than to take. "Frankly, we shouldn't be doing this at all."
He put his finger against her mouth. "Shh." She smelled herself on his hand, the musky scent of her arousal. "You're here. I'm here. We're doing this."
She knew he was right. They were doing this. Yammering on about how they shouldn't didn't change a thing.
He traced the shape of her nose, and then her eyebrows, and then smoothed her hair back off her forehead. And then he lowered his mouth to hers.
They kissed forever, his tongue delving in, playing with hers, tempting her to follow when he retreated. She d
id follow. She tasted all the slick surfaces beyond his lips and wondered how she'd gone all those years without lying beside him naked in his arms.
She reached down and encircled him. He groaned into her mouth. And then she was kissing her way along his throat, dipping her tongue into the groove where his collarbones met, going lower, over his strong chest, down his sculpted belly.
And lower still.
She took him in her mouth, loving the slickness, the salty flavor of him, opening wide to take him all the way in and then slowly letting him out again. He rolled to his back, his hands in her hair, holding her close to him as she encircled him tightly with her hand, took him all the way inside her mouth, deep enough to press against the soft arch way in the back of her throat. She loved the way he lifted up to her, the pleasured groans rising from deep in his chest. She teased him, licking the crown as she stroked him with her hand, running her tongue around and around, nipping lightly with her teeth before taking him deep inside again.
He lasted for several minutes as she played with him, as she urged him with lips and tongue and stroking hand to take it all the way to release.
But he wasn't going for that. At what seemed to her the last possible second, he captured her face and made her look at him. "The drawer," he said on a growl. "Get it. Now."
She knew what he meant and scooted over enough to pull the drawer open and dip a hand in. She grabbed one and shoved the drawer shut.
"Give it here," he commanded.
She handed it over and then she couldn't resist the temptation of him, so hard and slick and ready, right there at eye level. As he struggled to get the wrapper off, she encircled him again and sucked him deep into her throat.
He made a strangled sound and pushed at her shoulder. "I want…I need…you…"
She couldn't resist such a desperate plea. By then he had the wrapper off. She moved back enough that he could slide it on.
And then she curved her legs under her and rose up, straddling him. He lay beneath her, so strong and beautiful—beautiful as only a gorgeous man can be. His eyes were shut, his face flushed, his lips pressed together in an expression of need and urgency.
"Corrie…" He opened his eyes and saw her watching him. "Corrie…" He took her waist between his hands.
She rose up enough to position herself. And then, her eyes locked with his, she lowered her body down on his, the descent slow and constant, until she had him within her, fully.
He groaned and lifted his hips for her.
She rode him, moving on him as he rocked beneath her, like a wild horse, a surging wave. Nothing better in her whole life than to be with him this way. He felt so good inside her. So absolutely right.
But then, he always had. They fit, the two of them. They were a perfect match—at least as far as their bodies were concerned. When she was making love with him, she lost herself completely, she drowned in sensation.
His hands slid down to cup her bottom. He rocked her with ever-increasing insistence. She took his cues, gave them back, slow and sweet, then fast and frantic.
When she came, she pressed down hard on him. With a deep groan, he held her tight. She went over. He followed right after, moaning her name.
* * *
Sometime later, he left her, disappearing briefly into the bathroom. She heard the toilet flush and water running and thought how she probably ought to get up, find her clothes and ask him to drive her home.
But in the end, she hardly stirred. She stared up at his vaulted ceiling, smiling dreamily, feeling satisfied in the deepest, most delightful way. With a sigh, she rolled over and folded her arms on the pillow, resting her cheek on them.
She felt the bed shift. And then Matt bent close to her. He pressed his lips to the small of her back. "Corrie." His warm breath felt good against her skin.
"Umm?"
He brushed little kisses up the bumps of her spine. Then he blew in her ear. "I have an idea."
She stirred then, reluctantly, turning to him, rising up on an elbow. "An idea, huh?"
"I think it's a great idea. One that makes total sense and is good for everyone." He levered back off his knees to sit with his legs crossed. He looked magnificent naked.
And he was holding one hand behind his back.
She frowned. "Matt. What's that you're hiding?"
"What?" He whipped out a little velvet jewelry box. A ring-sized one. "You mean this?"
This wasn't happening. "Matt. No."
He grinned and flipped the box open. A huge diamond flanked by two slightly smaller ones sparkled at her. "Marry me, Corrie."
Chapter Seven
The first thing Corrine felt at the sight of that giant rock was anger, hot and bright. Irrational anger that made her want to grab that ring box out of his hand and throw it, hard, across the room.
But of course, she didn't. She made herself be still.
He waited, holding out that rock that must have cost a fortune, his expression so hopeful and proud, making her think of Kira for some crazy reason. Kira, on the day she finally learned to tie her shoes.
Look, Mommy! I did it. I did it all by myself!
He had that same look. Of triumph and joy. That he'd finally done the grown man's equivalent of tying his own shoes. He'd decided to marry the mother of his child, after all. Decided all on his own. Even gone out and bought her a ring to die for.
Her anger turned to sadness that she'd been angry at him in the first place. What was there to be angry about? He was only trying to do the right thing. Finally. After all these years.
She pulled herself to a sitting position, facing him, crossing her legs in a mirror of his pose, and raking her hair back off her face. "Oh, Matt…"
His look of pleasure deepened. He was totally misreading her reaction. "Come on." He pulled the ring free of its satin bed. "Put it on."
"Matt…"
He was all wrapped up in his own excitement, pleased as a kid with his first bicycle. "Give me your hand." He reached out and grabbed her wrist.
She whipped it away from him. "Matt!" She hadn't realized she'd shouted his name until he winced.
He frowned at her, bewildered. "What?" he asked, in a near-whisper. Then, louder, "What?"
"Matt, no."
He blinked. "Uh. No?"
She nodded, swallowed, shook her head. "No."
"But I don't—"
"Look. It's so sweet of you, to want to do this. I'm, well, I'm touched that you would. Deeply touched."
He stared at her as though she was speaking in tongues or something. "So, then, okay. What's the problem? Let's get married." He tried to reach for her hand again.
She backed away. "Matt. I said no. I meant no."
He gaped. "No."
"That's right. No."
For an endless three or four seconds he stared at her. Then, at last, he stuck the ring back in the box, snapped it shut and set it on the rumpled sheet between them. "All right. I'll bite. Why not?"
I couldn't stand the heartbreak if it didn't work. "Just think, okay? Stop and think about it."
"It? What?"
"We've got it good. Excellent, even. Our daughter is happy. She's never had married parents and it's working out great for her. She doesn't need married parents."
"She will," he said darkly. "When she's older, when she begins to understand what she's missing. A family. A mom and dad, together, committed to each other as well as to her."
"But we're already committed to each other. We're best friends. We get along great, we work together to give Kira the best life possible. It can't get any better than it already is."
"Oh, yeah. It can."
"Matt. Come on." She reached out a hand.
He jerked back from her touch. "Come on, what?"
She let her hand drop. With effort, she kept her voice gentle. "Why fix something that isn't broken?"
"That's pretty much what you said about us having sex together again."
"No, I didn't."
"You did. You s
aid why mess with the program. You sorry about making love with me tonight, too?"
"No. Of course not. Tonight has been beautiful. Exciting. Just perfect."
He glanced away, toward the doorway to the sitting area. He seemed to be studying one of the club chairs in there. When he faced her again, he gave a half-shrug, a lazy lift of one muscular shoulder. "It's kind of funny, if you think about it…"
Christmas at Bravo Ridge Page 8