This was a recipe for an unmitigated disaster that could only end with soul-crushing embarrassment on my part.
"I'm not going to cry," I said. Which was weird because the thought hadn't even crossed my mind until I blinked, and my eyes felt itchy and hot. His lips stretched in a smile. "But if I was sober, and even mildly PMS-ey, I'd be crying."
"You only cry when you're sober?" For some reason, he looked delighted with this tidbit of information.
I nodded seriously. "Yes. I'm a very happy drunk under most circumstances." Then I tilted my head to the side as I considered that statement. "Unless you give me red wine. Red wine makes me really, really emotional."
"Noted," he said with a gravity that made me giggle.
Great, now I was giggling, and his fingers were still touching my fingers, and I think we needed to get out of there before I gave in to my impulse to taste his skin with my tongue. Everywhere.
"I'll probably never give you red wine then," Matthew continued as I imagined what the tendon in his neck might taste like.
"No?" I asked after I blinked out of my fantasy. He'd taste like sex. And strength. And a man who could bench press four of me without breaking a sweat, and I really needed to think of something else. Was it getting hot in here?
He squeezed my hands before letting go and sitting back in his chair. "No. Why would I ever want to do anything that might make you cry? It would break my heart."
I stood quickly, and he blinked up at me in surprise. "We need to go."
Matthew answered slowly. "Okay. Are you feeling all right?"
With a shaking hand, I pushed some hair out of my face and nodded. "Yeah, just those drinks hit me, I think."
He laughed, tossing some money down onto the table as he stood. "Me too. I haven't drank that much in a couple of years."
Mistake number one- I walked too close to him as we left the bar, so when I nudged him with my shoulder to give him shit about that, it made for a natural nestling situation up against his enormous chest.
Mistake number two- I forgot about the steps at the end of the deck.
Mistake number three- wearing heels.
My ankle wobbled as we took the first step, and my other foot landed awkwardly. I gasped when I felt the snap of my heel when it hit the pavement at a strange angle.
Matthew's arm snatched me around the waist before I went face first onto the sidewalk.
"Son of a bitch," I groaned as I limped on the concrete.
"Are you okay?"
I blinked down at my feet, one still arched up three-and-three-quarters inches higher than the other. My poor, poor Jessica Simpson Eveena sandals. You were the perfect shade of fluorescent yellow. You did nothing to deserve this.
Matthew burst out laughing, and I groaned when I realized I'd said it out loud. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, given that I was nestled into his side. My lip pushed out in a ridiculous pout, and he clucked his tongue.
"It'll be okay. Were they really expensive or something?"
"No, but the cost is not the point. The point is that I loved them. The point is that now I have to be that person, limping home like a drunk ass college girl who doesn't know how to hold her liquor."
In the fading light around us, the sky turning a dark denim blue as the sun disappeared, Matthew smiled down at me in a way that made me feel like a melted chocolate bar.
"How about I promise to get you home safely? No limping involved."
I narrowed my eyes up, up, up at his handsome face. When did he get so tall?
Oh yeah, when I broke my damn shoe.
"You can't drive," I told him accusingly.
"I know."
Then he lifted his arm, and shouted, "Hey, right here."
A bright yellow minivan cab jerked to a stop at the curb about forty feet past us. "That's so far away," I whispered, my head swimming, and my ankle throbbing, and the entire side of my body pressed perfectly against his. When did my arm slide around his waist?
I did not even care when because underneath my hands, I could feel muscles. All the muscles. So, so many of them. Hot, shifting, strong Matthew muscles.
"Here we go," he said, my only warning as he dipped, banding one arm underneath my knees and one behind my back to sweep me up into his arms like I was freaking sack of grain.
"Matthew," I squealed between breathless laughter. But did I protest?
Sure did not.
My arms linked around his neck immediately. I may have even bounced my feet in a happy rhythm as he walked us to the waiting cab.
"Is this better?" he asked, his face only inches from mine. Meeting his eyes, I could smell the sweetness of his breath. The ambient yellow light from the top of the cab made his chiseled face look harder and more intense than usual.
The air was thick around us as I nodded. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and I licked my lips.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He never looked away from me as he opened the sliding van door to the cab. Once it was open far enough for him to climb in, I fully expected him to set me down, but he just ... didn't. A testament to his strength and the control he had over his incredible body, Matthew ducked into the cab and settled into the first captain's chair.
"Where to?" the cab driver asked in a bored tone.
I rattled off my address, briefly breaking the weird, vibrating eye contact thing we had going on.
As the cab took off, I had to take a cleansing breath and admit that I was sitting on Matthew Hawkins’s lap with his arms banded around me, unmoving and unyielding.
"You could put me down," I said quietly, tilting my mouth toward his ear, like it was a secret I didn't want anyone else to hear.
His eyes burned gold in the darkened interior of the cab. "I could."
Shifting slightly so I could see him better, I took a deep breath and let my fingers wander along the back of his head. Under my skin, his short hairs felt soft and prickly as I dragged my fingertips up and down in slow patterns.
The arm that been under my knees was across my lap now, and his hand opened wide along the expanse of my bare thigh.
There was no more sun and ice. No separation of what he was and what I was, or some stark dividing line between us.
It was just all heat. Whatever had been in him seeped into me, into my veins and through every pulse of blood through my body. Tiny movements that could be ignored in almost any other situation. But there was no music. No talking. The driver didn't count because he was focused elsewhere.
It was just him and me in the sweetly stretching silence.
His fingers curling into my skin as his hand moved slowly down to my knee and back up. His breath picked up speed, and I could feel it against my open lips.
My back arching into the expanse of his chest, my breasts brushing against the front of his shirt as it moved with his deep inhales, short exhales.
My fingers pressing harder against the curve of his skull like I could force him closer to me. But he held firm, his eyes searing into mine with some unspoken thought.
There's a line, and we're about to cross it.
That was what I saw in his face. It wasn't really a question. No should we?
The inevitability of it might have been made easier with the sweet slide of alcohol in our veins. But I wasn't drunk. And neither was he.
And I knew what I wanted. Time to see if he wanted the same.
"Matthew," I whispered, inching my mouth closer to his and tightening my arms around his neck. His arms tightened around me.
Closer.
Closer.
My lips brushed against his when I spoke again. My entire body was a throbbing mass of need. "If any part of you doesn't want to kiss me right now, then—"
He shut me up by crushing his lips to mine. A slant of his head and a groan from deep in his chest had me opening my lips so I could touch his tongue with mine. His swept into my mouth, wet and still cool from the ice in his drink, dominating the kiss before I could take a full breath.
His lips were firm, and holy shit, this man knew how to kiss. His big hand gripped the curve of my ass as I pressed myself tighter and tighter against his chest. If there'd been room on the chair, I'd be straddling his lap like it was my job.
This was more, so much more than anything I could have imagined.
Sucking, biting kisses. Sweet sipping of my lips before he'd flip the switch again and drag my bottom lip between his teeth, pulling a whimper from me that sounded desperate.
Matthew Hawkins could kiss.
He was kissing me.
And he thought it was impossible that I was single.
I licked at the edge of his teeth, moaning when he sucked the tip of my tongue into his mouth. My fingernails dug into his head, and he grunted into my mouth, breaking away so he could suck on my neck.
"You taste so good," he muttered against my pulse.
With a ferocity that surprised me, I gripped the sides of his face with both hands and found his mouth again. Just the sound of his deep, deep voice saying that had me feeling frenzied and jittery, a junkie seeking a fix, a brief hit to calm my nerves.
I worked my lips against his as my hips rocked. One of his big hands slid up my back, tangled in my hair, and worked the strands into a tight fist. The sound that left me at the barely restrained passion in that hold echoed through the van.
"No sex," the cabbie shouted, turning in our direction. "I mean it. I'll drop you off right here if you can't keep your pants zipped."
Against my mouth, Matthew smiled. I licked across the line of his bottom lip, and he puffed air out of his nose.
"You're not making this easy," he whispered.
Now it was my turn to smile. Ugh, tipsy cab make-out sessions were the best. "So"—I cleared my throat delicately—"am I making it hard then?"
He tickled my side, and I started laughing, only stopping when he slid a hand up my side to cup my breast with one massive hand. His palm covered me and moved in slow, taunting circles. Arching my back into that caress, I wanted it to be more, harder, and with fewer clothes.
"Ahem," the cabbie cleared his throat obnoxiously, and I pulled back. Familiar buildings made me blink out of whatever stupor Matthew's hands and lips on my body caused.
Before he could move, because hello, I was on his lap, I reached in my purse and shoved some cash at the driver. He sighed when I leaned forward to open the door and try to hop out. Matthew's hand stayed on my back as I exited, his big body close behind.
Even though people still walked through the streets, it was dark enough in front of my building that no one looked at him twice. I took one limping step, and he went to pick me up again.
I held out a hand. "Don't you dare."
Matthew slowly lifted one eyebrow. "You don't want me to carry you like I did before?"
"No way."
He shrugged. Then dropped quickly to heave me up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. I shrieked with laughter as he sauntered into my building, stopping only when the second set of doors wouldn't budge.
"It won't work without my card or someone buzzing you up," I said between giggles. He swatted me on the ass, so I pinched him on his. Homahlord, the ass on that man should be in a museum. Digging through my purse as best as I could while hanging upside down, I reached around him to wave my key card in front of the scanner. The light turned green, and Matthew opened the door.
Once we were in the elevator, I squirmed to get down.
"What floor?" he asked, tightening the arm behind my thighs.
"I can't remember," I told him. "All the blood is rushing to my head."
He sighed, turning me toward the panel. I punched the four, and the elevator churned upward.
Admittedly, I was pretty rusty at the whole dating thing, but what was the expectation when you were both buzzed, had already done some tongue tangling, and he was carrying you over his shoulder up to your apartment?
To me? I translated this as I was really, really glad I wore a cute bra and underwear.
The bell dinged on the fourth floor, and I smacked him on the back. "Seriously, I can walk now, you big ape."
When he tipped me over onto my feet, the hallway spun dangerously, which was how I found myself gripping his biceps while I waited for my head to right itself.
Then I squeezed, feeling the roll of tight muscles under my fingers. So big. So, so big.
I opened my eyes, and my hands slid up his biceps and over the boulders that made up his pecs. His smile dropped, his face turned tight with heat as I held his eyes with my own.
His hand moved up to my face to push my hair off my forehead.
"You tell me what happens next, Slim."
My eyes fell shut at the use of my nickname, something that suddenly seemed precious and secret and ours. Yes, there was alcohol in our bloodstreams, maybe just enough that we weren't second-guessing what was happening between us.
All I knew was that I wanted him. And if this was the one night I got him, then I didn't want to waste it.
My hand dropped from his chest to the silver belt buckle underneath his shirt, and I curled my fingers behind the hard metal.
I started walking toward my apartment, hand hooked in that belt, and maybe I sort of brushed the almost-unbelievable hardness underneath it.
Okay, fine. It was on purpose. But at his sharp inhale, I smiled.
I fumbled with the key as he buried his nose in my hair, wrapping his arms around my hips and pulling me back against him.
Before I let us into my apartment, I turned and pressed my back against the door, staring up at him with wide eyes and a heart that he could probably break with the wrong words.
"If you don't want to come in," I told him quietly, "you need to say it now. I won't be pissed, and I won't hold it against you."
Matthew lifted one hand to cup around the back of my neck, then he leaned down to press a deep, searching kiss against my waiting mouth. I found myself up on tiptoes to get more, more, more of him; my hands unable to touch enough of what I wanted.
His skin on mine.
The heavy weight of him over my body.
To know what he tasted like in the places the world couldn't see.
That was what I wanted.
And I held my breath while I waited for him to answer, to see if he felt the same.
When he pulled back, he held my eyes. "I want to come in."
My lips curled into a satisfied smile. "Good answer."
Behind my back, I turned the knob. We swung around, my apartment a blur as he bent to lift me, pressing me against the inside of the door this time. My legs split from the strength of his hands, and I wrapped them around his narrow hips.
He was so strong. With no more effort than me opening the door, he held me against the hard wood as his tongue twined with my own. I ran my hands over his chest, feeling his heart hammering underneath my palm, my spread fingers.
In his arms, with his hands on me and his lips moving over mine, I felt the slow build of pleasure cover every inch of me. It turned me into a writhing, whimpering mass of bones and blood and skin. A creature that needed more of everything he was giving me.
More of his skin. His lips. His mouth. His hands. His body.
I pushed him back and took a deep breath. Matthew's lips were red from my kisses, and I felt a grin spread over my flushed face.
"What?" he asked, as breathless as I was.
"Room. Bed."
"Right."
He straightened and walked down the one hallway in my small apartment. One hand stayed firmly on my ass, and the other slid up my spine as he carried me with ease.
"Nice place."
I trapped the tip of my tongue between my teeth while I smiled at him, and his eyes tracked the movement with heat and fire. "You're not even looking at it."
"I know."
My room was mostly in shadow, and I briefly wondered if it would be obvious if I told him to wait so I could flip the light switch.
I didn't want shadows.
I didn't just want a glimpse of his masterpiece of a body. I wanted Technicolor. I wanted to know what my hands looked like against his skin in stark detail.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, in the vainest, most selfish part of me, I wanted Matthew to want the same. I wanted him to look down at me as he moved between my legs and see every inch of me.
When he paused and reached behind him, one brief movement lighting up the room in harsh, beautiful light, I had to wonder if I spoke out loud.
That was impossible, though, because my lips were busy licking, sucking, kissing along the hard edge of his granite-carved jawline.
"I want to see you," he whispered against my skin, and I shivered even though his heat was practically incendiary. “I want to see so much more.”
Matthew tossed me back onto the bed, and I laughed as I bounced. His answering grin was sweet and boyish, and it made my heart turn over in my chest. Because as he stared at my smiling mouth, his smile turned predatory as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the floor.
"I could watch that on a loop every single day and never get bored," I said and then clapped a hand to my mouth when his hand paused over his belt buckle.
His teeth flashed white in his mouth when he laughed, and those massive hands got back to work on his belt. Good boy.
I narrowed my eyes, not wanting to be the only one causing skin-induced mayhem and fumbled words. I sat up, kicked off my sandals, and slowly came up to my knees on the bed.
Matthew's hands paused on his zipper when I crossed my arms and gradually pulled my shirt over my head.
His Adam's apple bobbed slowly as his throat worked on a thick swallow. His eyes burned, never wavering from the nude lace bra covering my chest. Never had my B cup girls caused me so much pride, but Matthew looked right at them and licked his lips, the movement slow and almost lewd as he finished unzipping his pants.
When my hands went to my shorts, he shook his head.
"What?" I asked.
"I'll do the rest if you don't mind." His voice should have come with a warning label. When it reached that timbre, a neon sign should flash over his head. Proceed with caution. Panties may spontaneously combust.
The Ex Effect Page 8