Miss Match

by Laurelin McGee

  Andrea’s focus turned back to the machine. “Blake? You lost your balls.”

  And hadn’t he.

  But she meant the game. He’d lost all those balls, too. “I did.”

  The enormity of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks. He was bonding, and bad, with a woman who was nothing like his ideal. Not just bonding, he was falling. Falling hard.

  Quickly he stepped away, unable to touch her anymore without tearing all her clothes off or asking her to do something crazy like stop looking for silly women for him to date.

  Seeming to sense his sudden change in mood—and how couldn’t she?—Drea rubbed her hands over her arms. “Well. Game over. It’s late anyway. I should go.”

  “Yeah. I suppose you should.” She should. She really, really should.

  He didn’t want her to go.

  “We can go over those ideas for your date tomorrow in the morning. First thing.”

  “Yeah, first thing.” He had a meeting that had come up for first thing in the morning, but he didn’t say that. He didn’t want to ruin this night with Andy by talking about another woman. He didn’t want to talk about another woman ever again: if you asked him at that moment.

  He was no longer scared. He was terrified.

  “Um, I need to call a cab.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “I can take you.” Or was it him who wouldn’t meet her eyes?

  “You can?” Her voice sounded both happy and sad. As if she was glad that he offered, but maybe not so glad about going home.

  Or was he simply transferring his own emotion onto her?

  “Of course I can.” He gestured for her to go ahead of him. “After you.” He was confused and awed and he needed a minute to gather himself. Except he wasn’t sure a minute would be enough.

  What was he doing? With Jane? With Drea? All of it was a muddle. The life plan he’d set seemed off kilter. Seemed wrong. The only thing that felt right was the woman standing outside the door, waiting for her ride home.

  He wasn’t sure what to do with that realization. But he couldn’t keep her waiting.

  When he stepped into the hallway, he found her leaning against the wall, panic on her face as she kicked her leg out to the side of her. Blake looked down to see the dog was attacking her leg. At least she was laughing.

  “Puppy, no. Shoo. Stop that.” Chuckling, he bent down to the floor to pry the dog off Andrea’s leg. “Get out of here.” Puppy obeyed, scurrying down the stairs.

  With the dog gone, he grew serious. He pinned his focus on the gorgeous calf in front of him. “I don’t blame him, though. You do look awfully good in jeans.”

  Andy giggled. “So you want to hump my leg?”

  He didn’t answer, but he made a choice. For the first time ever, he decided to stop thinking about rules and life plans. He only wanted to live in this moment with Andrea, consequences be damned.

  He trailed his hand up her beautiful denim-clad leg as he stood, settling it at her waist. He put his other hand on the wall behind her, caging her in.

  Her breathing sped up as she peered up at him. “Blake…?” The question trailed off as if she couldn’t say the words she meant to.

  “Andy…?” He suspected he knew what she was asking, but he wanted to know for sure. Needed to know for sure. After all, he was about to break all the rules, and though he was decided on it, her permission was absolutely necessary.

  A smile eased across her beautiful rose lips. “You called me Andy.”

  That’s right, he had. It was fitting for her at times, he realized. As fitting as Andrea was at others. Both names describing different aspects of this woman that he so adored. This woman that he might even, maybe, love.

  Hoping she didn’t see the true depth of his emotion on his face, he simply said, “Slip of the tongue.” And oh, how he wanted to slip his tongue in other places. Slide it along the line of her jaw. Flick it across her nipples, which he noticed were already standing at attention.

  He moved in closer, his mouth hovering just inches above hers.

  “Blake…?” Her voice was soft and pleading.

  If she couldn’t say what she wanted, he’d have to help her. “If I asked you to stay the night—”

  She cut him off. “I’d say yes. Are … are you asking me?”

  “Yes.” Blake closed the distance between them, kissing her jaw first and working his way up to her lips. He wanted to take his time, loving the build of anticipation. Also, he knew that this kiss was going to be important—it was going to change everything.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Blake’s mouth finally met Andrea’s, he felt like he’d found the Force. Like he’d been searching for it his whole life and now he had it in his grasp. Though he’d kissed her before, both sweetly and frantically, this was the first time it had been with all his walls down. He was naked before her, exposed—and he still had all his clothes on. It gave the kiss a sense of newness. It was surprising. Exhilarating. The best goddamn kiss of his life.

  His lips sucked at hers, teasing, tasting before he allowed his tongue to slip in and stroke along her own. For several minutes, their hands were still, letting the movement of their mouths take center stage. They had an entire conversation with lips and tongues moving in rhythm—I want you, they said to each other. To get to know you. To savor you. To have more with you.

  Soon, though, kissing wasn’t enough. Andrea brought her hands around his neck and pressed into him, rubbing her body against his like an affectionate kitten. God, that made him hot—the way she moved her tits along his chest, her pelvis pushing at his erection. If he didn’t stop her now, they’d be doing it in the hall, and that was not where he wanted her.

  He wanted her in his bed.

  He pulled away, the confusion in her gaze lasting only until he took her hand and led her silently to the double doors on the opposite side of the hallway. Without flipping on the light, he continued past the threshold of the darkened room, steering her to his bed where he helped her sit.

  She reached for his embrace again, but he stopped her.

  “I want to see you.” He flicked the switch on the nightstand lamp, the sudden light causing them both to momentarily blink and adjust even though the illumination was dim. The overhead was too bright, but he was aching to gaze at her when he stripped her naked.

  In their trysts at the office, they’d never undressed fully. It had been almost an unspoken addendum to their rules—sex with clothes on was much different from sex with clothes off, after all. Maybe not fundamentally, but emotionally. So many times he’d wanted to unbutton her blouse, strip her of her bra, and take her naked breast into his mouth, yet he’d restrained himself. Tonight, with all the other rules already broken, there was no longer a reason to hold back. He’d feast on her with his eyes, then with his tongue. He’d make love to her with nothing between them. Hell, with her permission, he’d even forgo the condom.

  When he turned back to face Andrea, he found she’d moved to a kneeling position. She reached forward to tug on his shirt. He smiled, letting her pull him toward her. She was as desperate to keep touching as he was. Cupping her hands around her face, he kissed her again, thoroughly. Then he grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and broke away from her mouth so that he could rid her of the clothing. Her powder-blue lace bra came off next, joining her shirt on the floor.

  “That’s better.” Much better. Blake was amazed at how Drea didn’t try to cover herself up, but let her arms stay loosely at her sides, showing him her goods without shame. And she had nothing to be ashamed of in the least. Why had he wasted so much time on such scrawny girls in the past? Drea’s breasts were magnificent. They would fill his palms, voluptuous without being showy. Absolutely perfect. He wanted to squeeze them and watch her shiver. Wanted her perfect dusky nipples between his lips.

  Before he could act on those desires, however, his attention was drawn to a nipping at his toes. Puppy.

  “Oh, no.” He bent to scoop up the dog in one h
and. “You are not staying in here.”

  “Blake, he’s fine,” Andrea called behind him as he escorted the creature to the doors.

  “No. He’s not.” This was a private party Blake had planned. No Puppy invited.

  He set his dog on the floor and shooed him away. Before shutting him out, though, he said quietly, “I promise to give you one of those treats you love in the morning.”

  “I heard that,” Andrea teased, confirming again that she knew he had an affinity for the animal.

  With a wicked grin, he turned back to the woman he’d left on his bed. “And I’ll give you the treat you love right now.”

  “So full of yourself.”

  “No, but you’ll be.” He sauntered over to her, enjoying the blush that sparked from his naughty words and ran down her neck to the tips of her breasts. “Now, where were we?”

  “You were taking off your shirt.” She pulled again at his T-shirt until he took her hands, lacing her fingers with his.

  “That’s not where we were.” Hands locked in hers, he bent down to lick along one of her perfect nipples. “This is where we were.”

  She wriggled under his attention. “Come on, I want to see you.”

  “You will. But I want to see you first.” And suck you. And taste you.

  “It’s supposed to be ladies first, Blake.” But she moaned, thrusting out her breasts so that he could take her more fully in his mouth.

  He tugged until her nipple was standing erect. “And ladies will come first. I promise.” Again, she blushed. “Now stop talking.”

  “But—”

  He let go of a hand and placed his finger at her lips. “Stop.” Turning his attention in full to her bosom, he distracted her from any thoughts of conversation. He adored her breasts completely, sucking and biting at one while kneading the other. Then switching his hand with his mouth until Andrea was gasping.

  When he had his fill, he moved down, his tongue swirling along the rim of her belly button before his hands worked the button of her jeans. Gently, he pushed her back to lie on the bed so that he could remove her sandals. Then her pants. Then her panties.

  Holy mother of God, he’d died and gone to heaven.

  He had to stand back and admire her—her hair spilling around her shoulders, her nipples still puckered from his ardor, her thighs spread to showcase her pretty little pussy. “Andrea Dawson.” His voice was thick with desire. “You are so damn beautiful.”

  She whimpered at his words. Or maybe from his touch as he moved in, trailing a hand down each of her inner thighs, his fingers meeting at her core. He skidded across her clit, and her hips bucked. That’s when he lost all his reserve. He’d wanted to go slower, take his time teasing her with his hands. But he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to have his mouth on her and now.

  He fell to his knees and pulled her to the edge of the bed.

  “What are you—”

  He answered with his tongue on her flesh.

  “Oh, my God,” she cried, sitting up.

  With a smile, he urged her back down and returned to his feast. He licked up her crease, dragged his mouth across her folds, skated his teeth along her sensitive nub. She whimpered and moaned as he pleasured her, her sexy sounds telling him just what she liked and how she liked it. Then he moved a hand to tickle along her opening, and she nearly screamed.

  Damn if that didn’t make him harder.

  He was desperate now to make her come, eager to watch her fall apart from this new viewpoint. He plunged two fingers inside her, bending his knuckles to hit the spot against her wall that he knew was particularly sensitive. She was almost there. He could sense her getting near. Could hear it in the way her breathy gasps were coming closer and closer.

  With his mouth and hands, he worked her until her legs were tensing and shaking, and her whimpers had turned into cries. His tongue drew letters on her clit, a trick he’d learned in college.

  Then he found himself straying from the alphabet and wrote a sentence instead. “I heart Andrea Dawson.” Because he did. He hearted her hard. Not just because his face was buried between her thighs, but because of everything else that had transpired between the two of them. Because she laughed at him when he was pompous. Because she didn’t slap him any of the times he’d deserved it. Because she got dolled up and arrived on his doorstep in an attempt to seduce him when she was never sexier than when she was herself. Because she was feisty and outspoken. Because she gave him Puppy and could hold her own in pinball.

  Mostly, though, because she was just the most incredible woman he’d ever met, and she owned him wholly—body, soul, and definitely heart.

  * * *

  Andy screamed and wrapped her fingers in the bedspread as she came. And came. And came. Blake Donovan was a god, she decided. A one hundred percent freaking sex god.

  He was more than a sex god, though, she thought as she began to wind down from her dizzying orgasm. He was also more extraordinary than she’d ever imagined a man like him could be. He was funny and even sweet. And he kept the dog. And he had a fully loaded pinball playroom, for crying out loud. How much cooler could a person get? It was overwhelming and also really amazing in ways that she couldn’t comprehend when she was still half blind from her release.

  When she’d settled down enough that she could form a more coherent thought, she was no longer interested in analyzing her emotions. She was interested in the god before her—more specifically, getting the god naked.

  She scrambled to her knees and pulled at his shirt. “No excuses, now. This has to go.”

  Thankfully, he didn’t fight her.

  His chest bare in front of her for the first time, she scanned every part of him, tracing along his contours with her fingers. He was gorgeous. Though not completely ripped, he had muscles. Well-defined muscles. Hard muscles, and not just the one bulging in his pants. And those sexy ridges that some men had at their hips? He had those. She had to trace those with her tongue.

  Except his stupid jeans were in the way of her path. Too anxious to work at removing them herself, she simply commanded, “Off,” and sat back on her knees to wait.

  Blake had them shucked in no time, his briefs as well. Oh, she loved it when he responded to her like that. Almost as much as she loved the sight in front of her—his beautiful, thick cock. While she’d spent a good amount of time in the last week with it inside her, Andy had never actually taken much time to admire it. Now it was standing boldly in her face and she could no longer resist.

  “I want this,” she murmured. And so she intended to have it. Circling her hand around him, she pumped his length from top to bottom. Blake’s low mmm pushed her to do it again. He leaped in her hands and she couldn’t help smiling. She brushed her fingertips over his crown and he moaned again. She loved this, too—loved torturing him. Loved having the power to make such a strong, composed man twitch at her touch.

  Letting her stroke fall back down his rigid flesh, she realized that this was the component she’d been missing in her matches for Blake—she hadn’t found the woman who could get to him. The woman whom he could expose himself to without fear. Not just clothes-off exposure, but everything-about-him exposure. The kind of exposure he’d shown to her tonight.

  Wait. Did that mean that she was that woman? Was she Blake Donovan’s match? She’d been into him, consumed with him, but she’d never quite believed that they were actually good together. Not long-term. But maybe they were.

  Wouldn’t that be something?

  She ignored the tingle of hope that ran through her at the thought and tucked it away to deal with later. There would be plenty of time to analyze it further when she didn’t have her mouth full.

  Andy swirled her tongue along Blake’s crown and then drew his shaft in toward the back of her throat. He groaned and she instinctively echoed him, her sounds reverberating along the length of his erection.

  “Andrea. Drea.” Blake sounded on the edge. “Please. You have to stop.”

  Befo
re she could figure out if his request to end was because her actions were too awful or because they were too good, he had pulled out of her mouth and pushed her back onto the mattress. He covered her with the length of his body. Automatically, her legs fell open to him, and she felt his shaft against her opening.

  “Your lips are heaven on my cock,” he said in husky tones at her ear. “But keep doing that, and I’m going to come. And I already made a reservation in your pussy that I intend to keep.”

  Too good, then. She smiled at that. “I need you inside me, Blake.”

  He hovered over her, his mouth close to hers. “I need to get a condom.”

  He made no move to leave and she didn’t want him to go, even just for a moment. Yet that wasn’t the reason behind her bold decision. “No condom. Just you.”

  He responded by entering her with one long, slick drive. He slid all the way out to the tip and then pushed in again, seemingly even thicker and harder than he’d been just a moment before. Then he established his rhythm—a steady pulse that stroked her in all the right ways. Sent her climbing and spinning and soaring all at once.

  “Blake, oh, Blake.” She dug her fingers into his back. He felt so good. She was surprised exactly how good he felt because she’d had him inside her before. Perhaps the difference was the lack of condom, but she had a feeling it was more than that. So much more.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips, and the new position let him push in deeper. Deeper than he’d ever been—than anyone had ever been inside her—she was sure of it. A general feeling of euphoria settled over her, even before she reached the pinnacle of her climax. She’d never been made love to like this before, and that was most definitely what Blake Donovan was doing. He was making love to her. Every touch carried a weight of affection—the way he brushed her hair from her eyes, how he cupped her face and kissed her with sweet abandon. Each thrust, even, bore the emotion of love.

  Andy matched each display with sincere reciprocation. She let herself thrill in her earlier revelation that she was falling in love with the man. In fact, she’d go so far as to say she’d already fallen. Fallen as far as she suspected he had with her. The thought propelled her over the edge and then she was soaring on the crest of a relentless climax. Tears spilled and every nerve in her body burst in ecstasy as she clenched around him and all she could see and sense before her, in front of her, around her, was Blake. Blake, Blake, Blake. Forever Blake. She was drowning in his essence, yet she’d never felt so anchored.