He kissed her hard, and he lifted a hand to her cheek to hold her head steady. His other arm he wrapped around her waist, to keep her body near his. Damn it, he wanted her.
Willow lifted her arms, to wrap them around his neck. His body was warm and firm, and he smelled so impossibly good. In fact, everything about the kiss felt perfect. Like coming home, after a long, cold winter. She frowned as the analogy formed in her mind, but she didn’t pull away.
If this were a scene in one of her novels, a spell would have been cast, to cause this degree of kismet and rightness. Her fingers curled in his thick, fair hair, tangling with it in a way that conveyed her desperation. She pressed her body harder against his, and against her flat abdomen, she could feel the hint of his arousal. It made her insides slick with moist heat, and her hands dropped from his hair, to do battle with his shirt. She lifted it, so that she could run her fingernails down his back, and then slide them into the waistband of his jeans. The top of his butt was warm and smooth, the skin supple and toned beneath her hands. She felt him shudder as she kneaded his muscles.
He was magical.
Surely he was some kind of other-worldly creature, who had come into her life to stir up this hornet’s nest of sensuality that she hadn’t known existed. Oh, she’d read sex scenes in novels that would set bodies on fire, but never had she known this kind of passion.
Her whole body seemed to quiver with arousal, as she pulled at his belt, and worked it free of his pants.
Matt swore against her ear, low and gruff, as his hands pulled at her shirt and lifted it over her head. He cupped her breasts, muttering another oath as he felt their neat roundness in his calloused hands. Her bra was lace and dark, with satin detail – the kind of bra fantasies were made of.
He’d committed to return to the east coast. He had a company to run. A future to line with fucking gold, as his father had insisted. But all he wanted to do was bury himself in this woman and be her pleasure forever.
He unhooked her bra and removed it, sliding his fingers over her long, smooth arms before dropping it to the floor. Naked from the waist up, he laced his fingers through hers and stepped backwards, just far enough to properly observe her. His eyes raked her figure slowly, sending little swirls of awareness over her as he went.
“What are we doing?” She mumbled nervously, her eyes heavy on his face.
He grinned, closing the distance and kissing her again. Her body melted against his, and now he could run his palms over her naked skin, feeling her satisfying warmth for himself.
“What we both want.” He lifted a finger to her chin and angled her face to his. “Right?”
She could deny it. But why would she? He was right. Her whole body was throbbing with a powerful, dark need. And he was her craving. He was what her body desired.
“My room’s through there,” she murmured, nodding to a closed door across the house.
He didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled her behind him, shouldering the door to her room open so that he didn’t have to drop her hand. It was a small room, but large on style. The king size bed at its centre took up most of the space, and an enormous turquoise canvas in the centre of the wall served as a bed head. Fairy lights twinkled around a mirror, and a picture of Albert Einstein hung in a frame, with the words, Creativity is Intelligence Having Fun.
His lips twisted into a smile at the room, which screamed Willow from every decorative choice. But then, he focussed his attention back on the half naked woman before him, and he forgot about Einstein and Turquoise and Fairy Lights and white bed linen. He saw only Willow, and he felt only the sharp spike of desire for her.
Compunction fuzzed at the edges of his brain. He ignored it, and with remarkable ease. Tomorrow, he would think through what they were doing. What, by then, they would have done. Tomorrow, there would be time for remorse, if necessary. For guilt, because he knew his future was at the other side of the country.
In that moment, his body was in charge. He scooped her up, earning a squawk of surprise, as he laid her down gently on the bed. He placed her lengthways, in line with the pillows, and he moved across her quickly, so that she could feel for herself the strength of his need. Through his jeans, and her leggings, he pressed his arousal, hard and heavy; his hips moved as though he were about to possess her.
She arched her back and her fingers clawed at his shirt; her own libido was stoked to fever pitch.
His laugh was a low rumble, as he pushed out of his shirt and tossed it across the room. He lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her passionately, tangling his fingers in her hair, as their naked torsos connected and sparked waves of electricity off one another.
Willow’s laugh echoed his own; she was happy, and the sound of that pleasure filled the room. He pulled at her leggings; they were skin-tight but he tugged at them until they were freed from her body. Her legs, so long and slender, deserved more attention, but he was desperate now. His whole body was tense, like a predator about to pounce on its prey.
He stepped out of his jeans and boxers, and came back to lie on top of her, his weight a heaven-sent balm against her skin. Her fingers danced over his body, craving touch. She wanted to feel every inch of him, to taste him and pleasure him. Her body was covered in a fine dusting of goose pimples. She arched her back, her need making her almost mad with the force of its intensity. Her eyes blinked up at his face, then drifted lower, to the broad expanse of his shoulders and muscled chest. She swallowed, as his sheer strength and power communicated itself to her. He looked like a man who could kill a bear with his bare hands. Completely powerful and in control. She lifted her arms above her head, stretching like a cat.
He laughed, and pressed his lips to the sensitive skin at the base of her neck. She jerked in response, her body shivering as his kiss deepened and dragged lower, to her nipples. He took one in his mouth, rolling it with his tongue until swirls of pleasure were almost like pain; so intense they were just about unbearable.
“Please,” she groaned, lifting her knees towards the ceilings and digging her feet into the soft bed linen. He was so close, she could feel him at the apex of her thighs. He could take her in a second; and she wanted him to. She hadn’t done anything so spontaneous in forever, and somehow, all of her worries and objections had been pushed aside by the fact that he was impossible to resist.
He laughed again, and teased her, rotating his hips so that his erection pressed at her womanhood without providing any relief.
“Matt,” she whimpered, lifting her fingers to his shoulders and digging in painfully. “Please.”
It was a sob of desperation, but still, he smiled. Their patience was being tested. His, hers, they were both running out of time. But he was fighting against rushing this. Fighting a losing battle, it appeared, but he desperately didn’t want it to be over.
He nudged at her entrance, intending only to tease her initially. But Willow arched her back, and lifted her body, and effortlessly, she guided him deeper into her core. Her body convulsed as his filled it; she moaned slowly, low and soft in her mouth, as his erection took possession of her. He was big, and he was hard, and she was tight and moist, and the moment was one of the most perfect of his life. He let out a guttural cry of completion as he felt his entire length become sheathed by her. Her muscles spasmed around him, welcoming him and tightening to incorporate him into her flesh.
They moved as one, his body in line with hers as he began the slow, sensual beat of time immemorial. How many times had this dance been made, between two bodies in such harmony? Only surely never as perfectly; never with such total connection.
As Willow began to tremble beneath him, he shifted a little, sensitising a different part of her body, pleasuring her differently; slowing her ultimate release but teasing out the range of her sensations in the process. She gasped for air as he moved again, this time, harder and faster, and he lifted his hands to cup her breasts. His fingers sought her nipples, stroking and pulling at them, while he moved within her, stirring her fire from deep in the pit of her being.
When Willow thought she could take no more, he drove her over the edge. With a masterful degree of control, her sent her spinning into the abyss, and he held himself intact. He watched from heavy eyes, with ragged breathing, as her face contorted with pleasure and sweat beaded across her brow. Slowly, as her breathing began to return to normal, he moved with greater intensity, deeper inside of her, so that her eyes widened with surprise. His laugh was soft on the warm night air; her skin was softer.
He ran his lips over her delicate shoulder, and then lower, to take a breast into his mouth. He circled her nipple with his tongue, then bit his teeth down on it lightly, laughing again when she shuddered with pleasure. But his control was slipping, and his fires were burning out of control.
He kept one hand on the side of her face, reassuring her, as the tempo of their lovemaking threatened to march beyond their control. He pounded against her, hard, fast and desperately, and with each beat of his drum, she answered with a resounding cry of need. Higher and higher, her voice lifted as his need increased; and no matter how hard his body sought hers, she answered him eagerly. In fact, the more he demanded of her, the more she seemed to need. Her fingers dug into his flesh, almost drawing blood, as she sought any way to release the fire from her veins.