by Mary Campisi
Sara wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed her body against his. Matt’s low growl made her bolder, made her want to please him. Drawing in his tongue, she sucked with long even strokes. He groaned and lifted her against his arousal.
It was her turn to groan.
They worked their way toward the bed, touching, teasing, tasting each other, anxious to have more, frustrated over not having enough. When her leg bumped the foot of the bed, Matt guided her, his hard body covering hers as he pressed her into the mattress.
His hands were everywhere—in her hair, on her shoulders, covering her breasts, stroking her legs. He found the top button of her sundress and flipped it open. Then he attacked the next button, and the next, until the fabric fell aside, exposing scraps of lace and bare skin.
“You feel wonderful,” he murmured, planting a kiss along the hollow of her throat. Sara smiled and eased the bottom of his shirt from his jeans. “And you smell wonderful,” he said, nuzzling his face in her hair. Her fingers inched the shirt up, found bare skin and muscle beneath. She ran her nails down his back and around to the front, circling the flat planes of his stomach. “Keep those hands moving like that and this will be a very short night.”
“I want to touch you.” The need in her voice surprised her.
“And I want you to touch me,” he assured her. “But not that well.”
She laughed as her hands roamed his thighs, anxious to feel the flesh beneath the heavy material. He seemed to know what she wanted, even if she wasn't quite certain herself. He leaned up and tore his shirt off, then went for his belt buckle. Sara's hand shot out to stop him. “Let me.”
His hand fell away and she leaned up, working the buckle with jerky fingers. She should have been nervous. She should have been filled with doubts, reservations, and every other imaginable concern possible. She should have been petrified to enter into a relationship with this man. But she wasn't. Nothing had ever felt so right. She slipped the leather through the buckle and the belt fell open.
Emotion took over then, coupled with raw physical desire, propelling her forward, making her bold. Sara traced his arousal with one finger, learning the shape and feel of him.
“Stop,” Matt said, grabbing her hand. “Just... stop.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Absolutely nothing. Hold on a sec.” He eased off the bed, and reached out to locate the nightstand. He pulled the drawer open, fished around a few seconds before pulling out a handful of small colored packets and dropping them onto the bed.
Condoms.
So many of them.
“Personal inventory?” How many other women had been privy to Matt's private stock of brightly colored latex?
He shook his head. “No. I stuck these in here after that morning in the kitchen.” He flushed a dull red. “I…just in case.”
“Oh.”
“Rex got them for me.”
“Rex? You sent Rex out for these things?” She glanced at the labeling. “ 'Good fit, great feel?' 'Extra ribbed for heightened pleasure?' 'Just like the real thing?’”
She'd never be able to face Rex again.
“It's okay,” he assured her. “Rex's been betting we'd get together from the minute you walked through my door.”
“But does he have to know about 'great feel and heightened pleasure?” She picked up a purple packet and read, “Passion's Plum—exotic, erotic, endless.” Tossing it aside, she chose a yellow one. “Love's Lemon—tart, tasty, titillating.” She threw it across the room and hung her head. “How humiliating.”
“I'm sorry. I wasn't sure…there were so many…” He stumbled, started again, “I wasn't sure what you might ...” His voice trailed off into awkward silence.
She lifted her head, spotted the dull flush on his cheeks. Matt Brandon, embarrassed?
“It's okay,” she said, touched that he would go to such lengths to consider her preferences. Not that she had any in her limited, one-dimensional, ‘I hate latex,’ experience with her ex-husband.
“How about Paradise in Pink?” she asked, picking up a light scarlet-rimmed foil packet.
“Sure,” he said in a sensual drawl that made her tingle. “Sounds good. For starters.”
He smiled down at her then, that broad white-toothed smile that made her forget her next word and every one after that for a solid thirty seconds. She smiled back, even though she knew he couldn't see her. He'd be able to feel it, sense it in the gentleness of her touch, hear it in the softness of her voice.
“I'm tired of talking,” he said, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. “I've got another form of communication in mind.”
“Oh?” The little breathy voice didn't sound like her own.
His fingers settled on the fly of his jeans. “Yeah. It's especially useful when the words…just won't come.” His lips turned up in a little half smile. “No pun intended.” He inched the zipper down.
She tried to think of some witty response, but the words caught in her throat. Her gaze shot to the spot of black cotton beneath his fingers and the trail of dark hair tapering to a vee into his briefs. With casual grace and not a hint of self-consciousness, Matt pulled his jeans over his narrow hips and kicked them aside.
His smile was gone, replaced with desire, need, and determination.
For her.
Before her brain could register his actions, he slipped his thumbs in his briefs and pulled them off.
Matt Brandon in clothing was an appealing sight. But a naked Matt Brandon was simply overwhelming. The muscles of his arms and thighs, the flat plane of his stomach, the dark whorl of hair narrowing from his abdomen to his groin, all made him a woman's secret fantasy. And then there was that other part of him, the one Sara's eyes kept flitting around and pretending she didn't notice. That part could keep a woman's imagination well fed for a long time.
Matt sat on the bed and reached for her. “I love your skin. Like brushed velvet, all soft and warm.” He eased the dress from her shoulders. “I want to feel you beneath me.” He slid her bra straps down. His hands found her breasts, rubbed her nipples against his palms. She let out a low sigh. “And I want to hear you moan with pleasure when I suck you.” He released the front clasp of her bra. “When I lick you and take you into my mouth,” he whispered.
His tongue found her nipple.
She moaned.
“Yes,” he murmured, sucking on the swollen peak.
His hands were all over her then, stroking her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, stripping her of the silk underwear that provided the last barrier between them.
And then he touched her. There.
He caught her moan with his mouth, branding her with a fierce kiss. Her hips arched to meet his touch, slow and even at first, then faster in quick jerky thrusts. Every nerve in her body centered on his fingers as a slow pulse built deep inside. Sara rose to meet it, desperate for the next stroke that would send her spiraling into a free fall of sensation.
One more flick, two more strokes, and she was airborne, convulsing beneath his touch. She tried to cry out, but Matt stifled the sound with his mouth. Her hips flew off the bed, twisting against his hand, her body throbbing, pulsing with the swell of her climax.
When he released her mouth, she gasped for breath, panting and sucking in air. She pushed a damp strand of hair from her face and turned to look at the man who'd just given her such extreme pleasure.
Matt.
He was resting on his elbow, a smile sliding across his lips.
He'd touched her heart.
Touched her soul.
“Hello, beautiful,” he whispered, stroking her cheek.
She turned her face into his hand, planted a small kiss there. “Hi.”
“That was pretty fantastic.”
“Yes, it was. But it's far from over.” She reached for the pink-foiled packet and stuck it in his hand.
“Would you do the honors?”
“Of course.” She took the packet and ripped it open. She st
udied the shiny pink ring of latex in her palm. Hmm. It had been a long time since she’d used one of these. She grasped his erection at the base with her left hand while her right positioned the condom over the tip of his penis. She tried to unroll it, her fingers slick with lubricant. The condom didn't budge, but her fingers did. All the way down Matt's hard penis.
He sucked in a breath.
“Sorry. Let me try again.”
She did. Three more times, with no success and a lot of manipulation.
“Sara.”
“Yes?” She'd get this blasted thing on if it killed her. One inch at a time. She attempted to roll it back up and start again.
“Stop.” He gripped her wrist, stilling her movement.
“But I think I figured out what I was doing wrong.” Just one more time…
“I can't make it through another attempt,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I'm a man, not a machine.”
She looked at him then, saw the deep frown etched on his tanned face, the clenched jaw, the flaring nostrils. He pulled the condom through her fingers and tossed it aside. “Get me another one.”
They were scattered all over the bed. Sara grabbed Remember Me Raspberry, and handed it to him. He tore it open, fitted it, and smoothed the crimson latex into position in less than five seconds, making her wonder how many times he'd done this before. Actually, she didn’t want to know.
“Now,” he murmured, stroking a finger over her nipple, “can we continue? Intermission's been much too long.”
Sara leaned over, placed a soft kiss on his mouth, and said, “Make love to me.”
That was all the invitation he needed. He moved over her, positioned himself between her open thighs and entered with one deep thrust.
“Oh, God,” he groaned, moving slowly inside her. “You…feel…wonderful.”
His fullness invaded every inch of her body, coaxing with small strokes first, then demanding and possessing with deeper ones. She met each thrust, her hands gliding down his back, settling on his butt. Closer, she needed him closer. She wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him to her, giving what he commanded. Giving him her love. The feel of him moving inside her, so deep, so consuming, so powerful, split her world apart in a flash of fire and feeling.
“Sara.” Matt's breathing was hard and heavy as he thrust into her. Deep. Deeper. Her body still pulsed with the aftermath of her climax when a fresh wave of sensation rolled over her. The feeling…the fullness… Matt thrust one last time, let out a groan and joined her.
This is heaven. Now I know. I've seen it, touched it, tasted it…
Several minutes passed before Matt said, “Tell me about the condom.”
“What?” She'd been hoping he wouldn't notice, or at least not comment if he did. But she should have known he'd want to scrutinize the situation, investigate the details. “It's been a long time.” A marriage and a pregnancy ago…
“How long?”
“Long enough.”
His mouth flattened into a thin line. “Well, we'll just have to see that you get more practice, now won't we?”
She wanted to tell him he had nothing to be jealous of, but it would show her extreme inexperience against a man who'd probably be able to use every one of the twenty-something foil packets littering the bed and floor on his lovers.
At a limit of one per woman.
Sara didn't want to be just another statistic, didn't want to think about the others before her, or the possibility of others after her. But with a man like Matt, who had women sticking to him like bubble gum on a hot sidewalk, it was hard not to imagine those things, especially when she herself was the sugar-free nonstick kind who wouldn't dream of clinging to a man.
“What are you thinking?” His deep voice broke into her thoughts.
About you. Losing you. “Nothing really.”
“You got quiet all of a sudden.” He reached out to touch her hair. “You're not regretting this, are you?”
“Of course not. Why would you think that?”
He shrugged his big shoulders. “I don't know. Maybe because more than anything, I don't want you to regret it.”
“I don't,” she whispered, snuggling against his chest.
A slow smile curved his lips. “Then why don't we try out Blast Me Away Blue?”
Sara giggled. “I think it's on the floor beside Orgasmic Orange.”
“Better yet. Let's try them both.”
A long while later, they slept in each other's arms, three discarded foil packets at the foot of the bed. Blast Me Away Blue, Orgasmic Orange, and Say Yes Silver.
Chapter 16
Matt walked into the kitchen and tossed a workout towel around his shoulders. “Hey, Rosa, when Adam gets here, will you tell him I'm in the weight room?”
“I will tell him.”
“Thanks.” He flashed her a grin. “What's that I smell? Spaghetti with chiles? Frijoles in sauce? Pork Lo Mein?”
Her laughter tinkled around him. “No, no. Is Miss Sara’s favorite. Spanish rice with cornbread.”
“Hmm. Any meat tucked away in there?”
“Chicken with pork.”
“Good job, Rosa. I might just have to marry you yet,” he teased.
She tsk-tsked him. “Not me, but perhaps it is time you settle down, find nice wife, have few babies ...” Her singsong voice trailed off, leaving a range of possibilities dangling in her unspoken words.
He sighed. The woman was relentless. She'd been dropping discreet little hints regarding his marital status for the last five days. Rex was no better. He'd offered to drive him and Sara anywhere, even suggested Las Vegas as a nice starting point. According to Rex, a person could play a couple hands of Black Jack, eat a lobster dinner, get married, and be back in the casino by seven o'clock. His delivery was so smooth Matt almost missed the marriage part.
The only one who hadn't joined in on the Marry Matt and Sara campaign was Adam. Maybe because he just plain hadn’t been around. He'd said something about business in San Diego. Or was it Seattle? Damn if he could remember.
Sara was doing it to him again. Witch. She had her claws in him but good and she hadn't even been trying. They'd made love the past five nights and it had been incredible. More than incredible. Almost ethereal. When they were together, she gave everything—her heart, her soul, her delectable body. It was that total selflessness that made him want to give back—made him want to keep giving. He'd never known that feeling with any other woman, but Sara wasn’t just any other woman—she was Sara. His Sara.
The back door clicked open, saving Matt from further contemplation on his feelings for Sara.
“Anybody home?”
“Hey, Adam,” he called out. “In here.”
“Hi, Rosa,” Adam said. “What's for dinner? No. Don't tell me. Let me guess.” There was a long pause. “I think it's one of my very favorite meals. Turkey with stuffing and mashed potatoes.”
She laughed. “You are silly man.”
“Okay,” he teased. “Then it must be pork and sauerkraut.”
That made her tsk tsk again. “Silly, silly boys. Is Miss Sara's favorite. Spanish rice with cornbread.”
“Oh.” Pause. “I see.” Another pause. “It smells wonderful.” Matt didn't miss the way Adam’s voice slid downhill at the mention of Sara.
“Dinner's a long way off,” Matt said. “We've got some weights to lift.”
“Right behind you,” Adam said, more like his old cheerful self.
The first hour went as usual. Free weights first, followed by universal. Neither spoke much, which wasn't unusual. They preferred to focus on the workout and save the talk for later. Forty-five minutes into the second hour, Matt finished his cool down and dragged his legs from the treadmill to the weight bench. He plopped down, ran a towel over his sweaty face, and waited for Adam to finish with the rowing machine.
“Almost done,” Adam huffed.
“Take your time.” It would give him a few more minutes to decide how he wanted to approa
ch the subject. There was only one thing that needed said —Don't waste your time brooding over Sara, because she's mine. Of course, he couldn't be so blunt about it and risk damaging their relationship. In all of their years together, through all of their women, they'd never let one come between them and it was not going to happen now.
“Done.”
Matt swiped the towel over his face and neck and said, “Not bad, for an old man.”
Adam laughed. “Right.”
No sense stalling any longer. “Where were you these last few days? I know you must have told me, but I can't remember.”
“Working.”
“Out of town?”
“No.”
“Oh.” So they were back to monosyllables again.
“Yeah.”
Something was definitely wrong. “Okay.”
“Look, Matt, I've been staying here since your accident. You're doing fine. It's time I got back to my own place.”
“Right.” Is that the real reason?
“I thought I'd pack up my stuff this afternoon.”
“No rush. The room's yours. For whenever.”
“Thanks.”
“Thank you. I know I wasn't the easiest person to be around these past several months. I appreciate you sticking by me.”
“We're family,” he said.
“That's right.” And family talks to one another. And asks questions. Uncomfortable questions. He drew in a deep breath. “What's going on between you and Sara?”
“Nothing.”
Let's try again. “She said you were good friends.”
“We are.”
Okay. Time to toss out a feeler. “But you'd like more.”
“I didn't say that.”
“We're not in a courtroom or a boardroom. Can't you just answer the damn question?”
“It wasn't a question. It was a statement.”
“Thank you, Attorney Brandon. Let me rephrase my statement. Would you like it to be more?”
“It doesn't matter what I want,” he answered, sidestepping the question. “Sara isn't interested.”
“No?”
“She's interested in someone else.”