He prowled over me, thick arms bracketing either side of my head, his pants hanging open. Desperately, I tried not to gawk at everything he had going on, and he had a lot.
I'd never been looked at that way before, the way Matthew was looking at me.
Like he wanted to eat me alive.
The way he held himself over me, a cursedly large amount of space between his chest and mine, made all the curves and lines over his chest, arms, and shoulders pop out in sharp relief. It almost seemed impossible that one body could hold so much strength.
"Are you showing off?" I whispered, nodding my chin at his pseudo-push-up over my body.
He shook his head, lowering his body over mine with aching and teasing slowness. When his chest touched mine, I sighed, wrapping my arms around his shoulders so I could slick my lips along his. He pushed back up, and I whimpered.
"Now I'm going to show off," he said with a wicked grin. He propped his full weight on one arm and used the other to track the space of skin from underneath my bra to the gaping waistband on my shorts. He turned his fingers over and pushed down between my legs; his hand trapped between my skin and the lace of my underwear.
Slowly, sweetly, he explored, working me into a writhing mass of impatience with his thick fingers. First one, then two. I clutched at his neck until he lowered again, but instead of taking my mouth the way I wanted him to, he sucked on the lace of my bra over my breast until the lace was wet and completely transparent.
With some profound sense of relief, I finally realized this wouldn't be some fumbling, tearing, biting, alcohol-induced coupling. This was luxurious, in the way he slid his fingers and lips and tongue over me and in. My hands spread over his back, my fingernails trailed the pops of muscles until he hissed against my breast.
We flipped over, and I straddled his lap while I pulled off my bra.
Neither of us seemed desperate to rush this, which added a thick pulse of significance that I hadn't expected.
As I rolled my hips over his hardness, he pushed my hair out of my face so he could find my lips with a penetrating, almost punishing kiss. His hands gripped my sides, sliding up to cup my breasts with his wide, warm hands. His thumbs rolled in tight circles, and I had to break away from his mouth just to breathe through the crashing wave of what that did to my body.
"Matthew," I moaned, and he flipped us again, briefly sitting up between my legs to divest me of my shorts and rid himself of his. He froze as he settled between my legs, which immediately clamped around his thighs lest he think he was going anywhere.
He closed his eyes when I did. "Do you ... I don't have anything with me."
It took a second to figure out what those words meant because hey, it had been a while since I'd shared a bed with anyone, let alone anyone I wanted to see me without panties on.
I stared up at him, waiting for him to open his eyes. Licking my lips, I jumped off the proverbial cliff with what I said next.
"I'm on birth control," I whispered. "It's ... been a long time for me."
His hand cupped the side of my face, thumb brushing the bottom edge of my lip. "Me too."
I swallowed as I watched him think. I knew. I was sure. For fear of pushing him one way or the other, I stayed perfectly still underneath his massive frame. He dwarfed me, in every possible sense. In fact, I wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't break me. Or my bed. Either one.
But holy shit, that was a risk I was willing to take.
The moment he made his decision, no more than a breath later, I saw the change in his bright, fiery amber eyes. He used his hand to push my leg up toward my chest, and with one smooth, long slide, he thrust in.
The breath of air that left my mouth was part sigh, part I'll never feel anything as good as this, and part hallelujah chorus in my head.
Until he did it again with his forehead braced against mine.
His arms wrapped tightly around my back, and my legs clamped around his back, my ankles locked firmly.
I was going nowhere, folks.
He kissed me deeply as he moved, and my tongue slid slippery against his as I moved in the same rhythm. Pushing when he pulled, rolling when he came back in. His back turned damp with sweat, my chest did the same.
I felt the warm gathering of pressure slip down my spine and into my hips, down to my toes as they curled against the tangled sheets. Throwing my head back, I braced my hands on the headboard of my bed while we exorcized whatever had been building between us.
He made one hard move, the quick snap of his hips, and I broke, wave after wave of sweet, light-bursting relief.
Matthew clutched me to him with bruising strength, his hands curled up around my shoulders as he followed, my name on his lips as he did.
His big body slumped against me, his breath hitting the side of my neck as though he'd just ran a marathon. My arms wrapped around him tightly, and I ran my fingers along the impossibly soft line of his hair where it met the skin of his neck.
After a minute, he lifted his head and stared down at me.
Stay, I wished fervently in my head but was afraid to ask him out loud. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was my one time to know what he felt like. I couldn't read what was in his eyes as they moved over my face.
"You got enough room in this bed for me tonight?" he finally asked.
I smiled. "Yeah."
He settled on his side with a deep groan, dragging me over so that my head was on his chest and my legs intertwined with his. "Good."
I grinned into the sweat-salted skin over his heart, pressing a tiny kiss there. Good was one word for it. Briefly, I climbed out of bed to clean myself up and grab us both bottles of water. He was dozing off as I waltzed back into my bedroom naked, but his eyes opened just enough to watch me.
His lips curved slightly as I slid back under the sheet covering him from the waist down.
I was tempted to drag it down with my pinky, just to make sure I hadn't imagined what was down there because ho boy, he was proportionate. But he looked so tired, so content as he held his arm out, and I couldn't break the mood. I nestled into his side and sighed.
"G'night, Slim," he whispered against the crown of my head, dropping a sweet kiss against my hair.
I laid there for at least an hour as he breathed deeply, his hand curled over my bare hip. Hoping he'd still be there in the morning, I weighed the possibilities that might come up with the sun. Tonight, I thought as I touched his warm, soft skin, tonight, he was here with me.
Chapter Ten
Matthew
Since my divorce, I could count on one hand the times I'd woken up in bed with a woman. On this particular morning, when I peeled my eyes open to see Ava sprawled next to me, her hair an absolute disaster of tangles and her arms flung out toward me, I almost started laughing out loud.
I didn't do one-night stands.
I certainly didn't do one-night stands with someone who I not only respected but genuinely liked, and who I also happened to work with.
The possibility of awkwardness, of heartache, was high with Ava.
But as I turned on my side to watch her sleep, I already knew I'd risk it simply because it felt really damn good to be with her. Because I wanted to know more.
It wasn’t my pride driving me or some false ideal I was striving for, ignoring warning signs of where things might go wrong. This was something I could trust, this instinct to lean more deeply into her, into what I felt when I was around her.
Once in the night, I'd woken to her hands stroking down my stomach. Everything after was a lazy, slow blur. I turned her on her side, wrapping my chest against her back, then lifted her leg over mine and pushed back inside her. Neither of us spoke a word. Just small movements because of our position, her mouth finding mine as she looked over her shoulder, my hands sliding down her stomach and between her legs.
It wasn't long. It wasn't sweaty.
It was ... perfect. All I knew was that waking to her hands on me felt good. It was all I needed to know right now
.
Ava took a deep breath and burrowed her face into the pillow. She didn't wake, settling back into her rhythmic breathing almost instantly.
Carefully, I slid from the bed without waking her and found my boxer briefs on the floor. I pulled them on as I walked down the hallway, finally able to get a look at her place.
It was small and tidy with hardwood floors and cool tones in her paint and furniture. As bright as her clothes were at work, her decorating style seemed to be the opposite. Everything was mostly white and gray with pops of lavender and light blue in pillows and blankets and ottomans in front of the long gray couch that faced her television.
After using the bathroom, I found her kitchen and searched through the cupboards until I found coffee. Her machine was pretty basic, so I started a pot while I tried to figure out how this morning might play out when she woke. How I wanted it to play out.
We worked together, which complicated things. A bad sign, for sure. Especially for two people who'd never mixed business with pleasure.
We'd had sex twice. That was a good sign. She didn't strike me as a casual sex type any more than I was. Especially since we had history.
I had to swallow past that thought. Ava and I had history. Something we'd actively avoided talking about thus far, and with good reason.
My hands braced on the counter while the coffee dripped hot and fragrant into the carafe. So what if it was ten years ago? I'd slept with both of the Baker girls, and that made a rock sink into my gut because I didn't like how defensive that made me feel about what had happened with Ava last night.
I'd put my relationship with Ashley behind me. That door was firmly shut. Because I had the unerring opinion that if I hadn't met Ava when she was a scrawny, sweet fourteen-year-old girl, I would've absolutely been attracted to Ava Baker, Senior PR Manager for the Washington Wolves.
I would've seen her and thought she was beautiful. I would've talked to her and thought she was smart and funny. Sharp as the edge of a knife and confident as hell. You had to be to put up with fifty-plus football players all the time.
That was the bottom line. I would've wanted her regardless. Maybe it wouldn't have happened as fast. Maybe I would've asked her out after getting to know her for a few months.
But knowing that was enough for me to be willing to try this if she wanted the same.
I turned and leaned against the counter as the coffee brewed. On her small dining table, I saw a flash of deep blue in a large, round glass tank.
Smiling, I bent down and caught my first glimpse of Frankie the fish. He was beautiful with hues of iridescent blues and purples as he wound around a bright green plant that was growing around a clay pot she'd put at the bottom of the tank.
"If only fishes could talk, huh?" I asked him. "You probably hear all the good stuff from her."
Next to the tank, I saw a container of fish food, so I opened it and dropped a pinch onto the surface of the water. Immediately, he darted up in a swirl of long, waving fins and started pecking at the food.
I watched him eat as I poured two mugs of coffee. He was an interesting little clue to her personality.
She had a pet, even if it was one step above a pet rock as far as the companionship he offered. But his tank was immaculate, large for just one fish, and had a place in the middle of her one eating space.
I wanted to know more. Each clue made me want to unwrap the next and savor it like a piece of one of her chocolates until moving onto the next. No rush, with no expectation.
As I walked back down the hallway, I just had to hope she'd let me figure it out. Figure her out.
Before I reached the door, I heard the creak of the bed and a deep sigh. I smiled.
But my smile dropped when I caught a glimpse of her. She was sitting up in bed with the sheet tucked tightly under her armpits and a frown covering her sleep-lined face, staring down at where I'd been sleeping just fifteen minutes earlier.
Frowning was not a good thing.
But once I noticed the frown, I noticed the droop in her shoulders too.
I cleared my throat, and she jumped, clutching a hand to the bunched-up sheet covering her body.
"Holy shit," she breathed, laughing a nervous laugh as I walked into the room. "You scared me."
"Sorry." I lifted up the mugs. "Thought we could use these."
Ava tucked some messy hair behind her ear, her green eyes tracking quickly down my naked chest and then away like she'd been caught doing something wrong.
"Thank you." She accepted the mug as I handed it to her, and I sipped cautiously out of mine as I perched on the end of the bed.
"Did you sleep well?" I asked.
"Are we crazy for doing this?" she asked at the same time.
We both froze.
My heart churned uncomfortably, and I hoped my face was even as I glanced at her over the edge of the coffee mug. "I don't know. Are we?"
Ava pushed a hand through her tangled hair, sending the wavy masses over one naked, smooth shoulder. "I know it didn't feel crazy." She looked up at me from beneath her lashes, checking my reaction.
"It didn't," I agreed easily. "It felt amazing."
Her cheeks pinked, and I saw her bite down on her smile before it spread.
What I wanted to do was ditch the coffee, climb back over her, and taste every inch of her body again. More than once. By the color covering her cheekbones, Ava seemed to be thinking the same thing, but she didn't verbalize it. Neither did I.
When she didn't say anything else, I cleared my throat and stood to set the coffee on the dresser. "But we work together."
She nodded slowly. "We do."
Another sip of her coffee. I wanted her to set it aside too. I wanted ... I wasn't even sure anymore if what I wanted wasn't completely selfish.
"And"—she licked her lips, finally setting the mug down on the bedside table—"you were …"
Then she held up a hand.
"What?" I asked.
"I need clothes on for this." She scrunched up her nose. "Can you maybe grab the shirt on the floor for me?"
I smiled, reaching down to swipe the wrinkled tank she'd had on the day before. Instead of tossing it to her, I walked over to the bed, fully aware that her eyes were sliding down over my chest and my stomach to the front of my boxer briefs that would very soon not be able to hide how I felt about her.
She took it from my outstretched hand and swallowed audibly. Taking her cue, I leaned over to grab my shorts and pull them on. By the time I finished pulling up the zipper, I had caught a glimpse of brown hair, one breast and then whoosh, she was covered, pulling the shirt down over her waist.
I wondered what she was about to say. And you were ...
Engaged to her sister?
Only sticking around for two years, based on my contract?
Divorced?
It could've been anything.
But I had the sense, after just these snippets of time with her, that it wasn’t about those things. That Ava had her guard up, high and tight, like a boxer protecting his face at all times.
"If you're worried about the team," I said, "I can keep my mouth shut."
She tilted her head. "Worried about the team?"
I shrugged. "The guys giving you shit."
Ava smiled a little. "Actually, I'd be more worried about them giving you shit. I've been around longer, you know. Might not earn you any teammate brownie points if they know you banged me into oblivion after only two weeks. No one else has even managed to score a date."
Had someone asked?
I physically bit down on the tip of my tongue so the question didn't pop out. It wasn't my business even though I felt a quick, bright flare of jealousy paint my brain green.
Her words caught up with my caveman thoughts, and I laughed under my breath. If they knew you banged me into oblivion. Damn right. I think my chest actually puffed out.
She must have seen it because she dissolved into laughter.
"Oh my gosh, you should see
your face." She threw a pillow, and I caught it. "You arrogant ass."
"Do you need me to toss you a compliment too?" One eyebrow lifted on my forehead. "Because I could think of a few words to describe last night."
Ava rubbed her lips together but didn't stop me. Her eyes danced with laughter as I strolled toward her on the bed.
"Hot. Tight. Perfect."
I stopped, leaning down to plant my fists on either side of her legs, still covered by the rumpled sheet. Her face was almost fully pink. I wanted to suck her lips into my mouth, first the heart-shaped top, then the fuller bottom.
"Okay then," she whispered, tilting her chin up. Just a fraction of an inch. It wasn't a blatant invitation, but I took it as one, dipping down to sip on her top lip.
A puff of air from her nose hit my face, and her tongue swept along my bottom lip.
"Delicious," I added when I pulled away. "But I'll do whatever you need me to right now, no matter how many words I could use for what happened between us."
Indecision crossed her finely angled face, causing the slightest wrinkle in her normally smooth forehead. Unable to resist, I drew my thumb along the line until it disappeared.
"I think," she started slowly, "we just think for the next couple of days. Think about what this ... might mean. Or what we want it to mean before we jump in."
The disappointment felt an awful lot like a game that you lost at the last minute while sitting on the sidelines. Out of my control and nothing I could've done to change the outcome.
Pushing Ava was nothing I'd even contemplate doing right now. Maybe she just wanted to see what it was like with me. See if the obvious attraction between us would flare quickly and then fade.
I stood and cupped her chin with my thumb, rubbing softly at the tiny dimple she had there. "Okay. I can do that."
She didn't smile like I expected her to. Ava simply watched my face, and with her face free of makeup, making her look younger, I caught a brief glimpse of her as a teenager. It was like seeing a ghost, and I stepped back before I could get sucked into the Ashley/Ava/Matthew is a creeper vortex again.
The Ex Effect Page 9