His skin heated the pads of her fingers while she circled her thumb up behind his ear and he seemed to relax a little.
“This is a nice neighborhood, Matthew.”
“Mmmm,” he agreed.
“How long have you lived here?”
“Few years.”
She nodded and looked out her side window, wondering if he got in on any neighborhood barbeques. Somehow; the image of Matthew socializing seemed silly and foreign.
She was glad when they pulled into his driveway. As the garage door started to chug up its rails, Allie took the opportunity to check out the front of his house. A large two-story; it was all tan stucco and clay tile roofing, with bushes and trees, all clipped into eye-pleasing formation. The only thing to separate it from the others was the empty flagpole that climbed skyward from the center of the yard.
Seemed like there should be a sign out front stating, “Sex God Superior” or something. She thought for sure there’d at least be some barbed wire, or sandbags.
“What’s with the grin?” Matthew asked.
“I didn’t realize you were human.”
Matthew pulled in and shut off the ignition. As the garage door began to close behind them, his lips twisted and his hand went back to his neck. “Yeah, well . . .” he trailed off.
Allie closed the distance between them and when her lips touched his, the insecurity she sensed in him vanished as his mouth quickly molded to hers.
After a few minutes of making out like kids, she pulled away before her lust could smother her curiosity. “Come on. I want to see inside.” She grinned, super proud that she was able to keep her head under Matthew’s influence. At least this time.
The house was surprisingly empty, considering he’d lived in it for years now. Not empty in the sense of no furniture—he had an expensive looking cherry walnut dinner table in the dining room, a very nice set of leather couches, and a huge smart TV in the center of the family room—more like empty in its lack of personality. No pictures, no books or magazines lying around, no personal touches of any kind.
Just as his office had been—a place to stay for a while.
This was Spartan—and it made Allie’s heart ache to see it as a reflection of Matthew. But maybe she was reading too much into it, looking for something to be broken where there wasn’t anything to fix. Maybe he just wasn’t into things.
Matthew stood stiffly behind her, watching her face for the slightest twitch of disapproval. Smothering her personal feelings with a glowing smile, she walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thank you for bringing me here.” She had a feeling this was a big step for him.
“You’re welcome.” Matthew’s hands slid to her back and pressed her into his body. His nose burrowed into the mass of her hair and he breathed it in. She shivered with the prospect of what would come next.
When the doorbell rang, Matthew’s answering growl vibrated behind her ear.
Allie laughed. “Guess someone saw us pull up.” It was too late for a mail call.
With a sigh, he walked to the door to see who it was while Allie followed, anxious to see who could possibly be brave enough to disturb the layer of the merc.
When the door opened a little old couple was standing on the front porch. A woman with a bob of salt and pepper hair, an olive-complexion, who was thin in a scary-ballet-instructor kind of way, with fine, but severe features and eyes the color of whiskey smiled up at Matthew. The woman obviously adored him. Allie caught the scent of bread coming from a cloth-covered basket the woman clutched to her bosom. The man beside her was dark and thin as well, aside from a small basketball belly that strained against his pullover.
“Mr. and Mrs. De Luci.” Matthew’s smile was warm.
“Matthew.” Mrs. De Luci stepped forward to wrap a knobby hand around him. “I’m so glad you’re back. I know it’s late, but we were up and saw you come home.” A thick, old world Spanish accent rolled over her words. When her eyes slid to Allie they widened. “My, you have company.” Mrs. De Luci seemed shocked by the idea.
Matthew turned to Allie and tugged her forward with a gentle hand. “This is Allison Young. My girlfriend.”
Girlfriend! Squee!
Allie primed. It was hard to keep the giddiness out of her expression as she shook hands.
“Allie,” Matthew said, “this is Giana and Stephano De Luci.”
They were both gawking at Allie, obviously impressed by her presence. Allie bit her lip, feeling like a bug under a microscope. Anxious fingers smoothed down the sides of her dress.
Mrs. De Luci was all radiant smiles. She held out the basket of bread to Allie as Matthew ushered them into the front room. Then the old woman linked a bony elbow with Allie’s and patted the back of her hand.
Matthew’s predator gaze followed Allie, tight at the corners of his eyes.
“My goodness, but Matthew has never brought home a girl before.” She leaned farther in and Allie steadied her, afraid she’d tip over. “We thought he was one of those gay fellows. After all, he refused to date my niece, Elisa.”
Oh, boy.
Across the room Mr. De Luci called out, “It’s not gay, it’s homosexual.”
“Gays, Homosexu-what’s-its”—she waved a hand—“paaah.” Dark eyes settled on Allie. “I’ve never met a gay before.” She winked. “I keep hoping to. I think they’re simply fascinating.”
Allie twisted toward Matthew, a whole lot of help! in her eyes. The tremble of Matthew’s upturned lips and the lightening of his eyes suggested she was on her own.
Allie decided it best if she tried to take control of the conversation. “How long have you known Matthew?”
“Since he moved in, my dear.”
“Oh?” Allie could only imagine the excitement of having Mrs. De Luci next door. Neighborhood busybody.
“Oh, yes. Poor boy. Never stops working. He needs to settle down and get a wife with some good hips. Not one of those skinny types that are all bone.” She dropped her eyes to Allie’s hips and her lips pursed with approval. “You will do for him, I think. But you must eat more.” Mrs. De Luci patted her hand again. “I’ll bring over a nice casserole tomorrow.”
Help!
She turned back to Matthew; face tight with panic. Her mouth popped open as she saw the bastard shaking with silent laughter. He wiped the corner of his eye when he found her looking at him and coughed.
“We keep an eye on Matthew, though. Don’t you worry,” Mrs. De Luci went on. “We watch his house and collect the mail while he’s away, too.” She turned to her husband. “Did you give Matthew his mail yet?”
“Yes, ma’am, he did.” Matthew held up a stack of letters with one hand.
“Did you get the pink one? It said urgent.” She jabbed a bony finger toward the stack.
Matthew flipped through the mail and produced a pink solicitation for a credit card. “This one?”
“Yes, that’s the one. You should open it immediately. It expires in a few weeks.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will.”
Mrs. De Luci turned back to Allie. “He’s such a good boy. So well behaved. And such strong legs.” Mrs. De Luci looked up and down Matthew with appreciation. “Stephano had legs like that only a few years ago.”
Uh, huh. Mr. De Luci looked like he’d been past his expiration date for the last twenty years.
“Now, you be sure to take good care of Matthew.” Mrs. De Luci smiled; her wrinkled face full of affection.
Allie met Matthew’s gaze across the room and warmth swirled in her chest. “I will.”
The couple moved to the door and said their goodbyes. As Allie and Matthew stood in the doorway, hands linked behind their backs, inspiration struck and she pulled the bundle of lace from her clutch and discretely slipped in into his hand.
Matthew looked down and cracked his palm to see what she’d given him. His breath hitched and his eyes instantly filled with heat. His fingers tightened around Allie’s fingers and she knew he’d make
her pay as soon as the old couple left. A delicious shiver slid up her spine at the possibilities.
When Matthew shut the door, the heavy sound of the deadbolt sliding into place had her thighs squeezing together, just to keep her upright.
They were here. In Matthew’s house. Alone.
He raised the panties and pressed them to his mouth. Slowly, eyes never straying from Allie’s, perfect white teeth set into the lacy edge and tugged, ever so slightly. And Allie was suddenly back in his office, that first day when she’d so boldly sought him out; and just as then, her lungs now burned with the need to breath, and Matthew was still consuming the whole universe, narrowing in on her with that deep green, almost black, stare.
Instinct sent her feet shuffling back as, with frightening grace, Matthew stalked her into the kitchen. When her butt bumped against the edge of the countertop she stopped, legs unsteady. She was already panting for what was surely to come.
“Nervous, Allison?” His words were dark velvet along her skin.
“No.” Her eyes shut for a second as she tried to steady her raging heart.
He was just . . . so . . . everywhere.
Her eyes flew open once more when his hips pressed into hers and she automatically opened to him.
His nose brushed over the edge of her jaw, a slow kind of torture that drove Allie crazy while his words vibrated over her throat. “This dress is incredible on you. Makes me want to take it off.” He bit down on her earlobe and a cry of ecstasy flew from her lips.
Hands restricted around her waist, his head dipped to where her heart beat like a wild bird against her ribs. Oh! The warmth of his mouth began a lazy torture over her needy flesh.
How could he send her to the edge so quickly?
He was a master composer and she was born to sing for him. She arched into his chest while her hands moved to his head. When the hair prickled beneath her fingers she smiled.
Yes, she thought with triumph. She affected him, too.
Hands slid down to his shoulders. He was so amazing. His heavy shoulders bunched and rippled, filled with latent power. The power to either destroy . . . or to send Allie spiraling, headfirst, over the edge into bliss.
His hands dropped to the hem of her dress and it was jerked all the way over her head. She stood there dazed, staring up at him. How had he gotten it off so quick?
He stood back to admire what he had revealed, and Allie watched the ridges of his nostrils flair. Her breasts spilled over a blood-red bustier. Black, lace ribbon was wrapped around her waist to tie in a small, flat bow over her bellybutton.
Matthew shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts, and growled, “If I’d had any idea you were wearing this beneath that dress, we’d never have made it out of the damned parking lot.”
Then he was on her again. Rough hands cupped her ass and he tossed her up onto the counter. Allie leaned back on her elbows, watching him through lowered lids. Her high heels clattered, one by one, to the floor.
Muscles bunching, Matthew leaned in and kissed her—possessed her—just as his finger slid the silky fabric aside and . . .
“I’m thirsty,” he said and turned to pull a beer from the fridge.
What?
No! Come back!
She listened to the hiss and pop of the bottle being opened, ready to weep from the torrent of raging lust beneath her skin.
When he walked back to her, he asked, “Thirsty?”
She shook her head, words stuck in her throat, and he frowned.
“No?” His hand settled over the center of her clavicle, glided between her breasts, and stopped at her trembling belly. Her nerve endings sparked to life along the path his hand had traveled. She was wild for him, needy and desperate for the relief only he could give.
Her eyes widened when he tipped the bottle over and trickled some of its icy liquid down the path his hand had just made. Allie moaned as the lazy trail of golden liquid drizzled down her front, and dripped onto the counter between her legs. Matthew took a drag on his beer and then, very deliberately, set it down. This time, when his lips met her skin, they were icy and wet. Her shoulders shivered as Matthew’s tongue began to lave along the line of liquid.
“Good beer, baby?” he whispered against her belly.
Green eyes held on to hers, refused to let her go as his head dipped lower.
“Ahhh!” she cried as pleasure shot through her hard.
Allie could hardly catch her breath before Matthew scooped her up. Her eyes fluttered as she sank into a sleepy daze, and her arms wrapped around his neck.
“Oh, no you don’t, baby. I’m not done with you yet.” He started heading toward the stairs.
“Bedroom?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Mmmm,” she sighed and burrowed her head into his neck, kissed her way down to the collar of his shirt, and then worked her way back up to his jaw. His skin was hot beneath her lips, his smell potent at his throat, rich and earthy under the bite of aftershave and soap.
Drunk on alcohol and Matthew she nuzzled him. “I love your smell. You know that?”
Deep laughter.
She struggled to sit up in his arms, pulling herself up on his forearms so she could see his face better. “I mean it. You smell reaaaaally good.”
His mouth curled up to the side and he dumped her on the bed.
They were here already?
“You’re still dressed,” she pouted. Not fair at all since she was halfway naked.
He stripped his shirt off and Allie’s mouth went dry.
“Better?” he murmured. His eyes stayed on her, eating every inch. Heat trickled up the inside of her belly in response.
Propping herself up on her elbows, she licked her lips. “Boy, I love your chest. Could look at it for hours.” And she meant it, too. He was all chiseled muscle, hard as granite, every inch defined. All without a speck of hair to be found. That sexy-as-hell tattoo over his sexy-as-hell peck and perfect brown nipple. Just above the hard columns of his sexy-as-hell abdominals.
“I think I drank too much.” She grinned up at him.
“You only had one drink.”
His pants and boxers dropped to the floor and Allie forgot whatever she’d been saying . . . forgot her own name, too, until he climbed up on her and whispered it in her ear.
He was all long, coiling muscle and Allie was reminded of a great cat—the way his steady green gaze followed hers. Her fingers traced his cheek and his eyes closed, a sigh easing through parted lips.
“I love the way you look at me,” she murmured.
When his eyes opened again, there was only the thinnest barrier holding back the pain inside them. Forehead lowering to her belly, he rasped, “Allie, no.”
She was hitting a nerve—but in her inebriated state she didn’t have the ability to keep the words, “I love everything about you,” from tumbling out of her mouth.
His hands shackled Allie’s wrists above her head. “Don’t . . . please,” he whispered—pleaded.
Allie wrapped her legs around his waist and urged her hips into him. “I need fewer clothes, Matthew.”
The hunger seeped back into his eyes and Allie sighed inwardly with relief at having distracted him from her stupid mouth.
He slid down to the bottom of the bed until she felt his hands on her thighs. Fingers undid the clasps to her garters and rolled each one down her leg while his mouth followed behind, blazing kisses over her trembling skin. When he got to the bottom of her foot he lightly bit the bottom of her heel. His nose ran along the hyper-sensitive skin of her arch, and then his teeth clamped around the pad of her big toe.
“Oh.” Allie writhed on the bed above him. She had no idea she could feel so much pleasure just from her foot . . . but then, Matthew was not the average man—he leaned more toward Superman.
Her panties went next and then he was filling her, taking her breath away with each blissful charge. Her legs wound together just below his shoulder blades as she met him thrust for
thrust.
Deeper. Harder. Faster.
Oh, yes!
Yes, this was what they were meant for.
Her nails tore at the heavy, bunching muscles in his back. His six-pack rippled across her belly, flattening Allie into the mattress while his hands cupped her breasts, pulling them free of what little fabric had been covering them.
“Oh, Matthew!”
She was suddenly bereft of him, empty and aching as he flipped her over on the bed and pulled her ass against his hips. She could have sobbed from the pain of his absence.
“Like this, baby,” his breath a ragged whisper against her ear, he slowly slid inside once more. She dug her hands into the bedding. Oh, oh, she was so full this way.
“Okay?” he asked, and she could tell he was gritting his teeth against the need to move.
“Yes,” she panted.
He eased out of her slowly before slamming hard into her.
“Ah!” Her spine curled and she buried her head into the mattress. It was almost too much, almost painful; but it was also pure bliss.
“That okay?” He paused.
“Again, please! Matthew!”
He slammed into her again and she cried out, his name a prayer on her lips. Again and again, over and over, the sound of their gasping breaths and slick, colliding bodies filling the air around them. Every cell sang, every nerve was alive, brought into being through Matthew’s touch. This was truly living. With this dark god covering her—wrapping around every inch of her, inside and out—consuming all who she was. A tornado of power and primeval lust, swirling around her, tearing her down to only her quivering essence; so raw and naked. His to do with as he wanted. And somehow he’d transformed her from the bland little girl of a few months ago into the writhing creature of passion beneath him.
Her eyes closed and she gave all she was over to him.
***
Hours later, the room enfolded them like a darkened womb. Allie cradled into the side of Matthew, the steady beat of her own heart beneath the tips of her fingers. They were both damp and hot, freshly showered, the thick tangle of Allie’s hair spread all around them.
Captured at Nightfall (Capture My Heart Love Story) Page 13