"Shouldn't do what?"
I lift my chin, my gaze meeting his, and I see all the turbulent, confusing emotions in his eyes, the grim set of his jaw and usually lush mouth. The man means business-what sort of business I'm not exactly sure, but I can take a guess. Increasing my pace, I take hurried backward steps to get away from all that handsome intensity coming at me until my butt meets the wall.
I'm trapped. And in the best possible place too.
"You've been driving me fucking crazy all night," he practically growls, stopping just in front of me.
I have? I want to ask, but I keep my lips clamped tight. He never seems to notice me, not that I ever really want him to. Or at least, that's what I tell myself. That sort of thing usually brings too much unwanted attention. I've dealt with that sort of trouble before, and it nearly destroyed me.
The more time I spend with my boss though, the more I want him to see me. Really see me as a woman. Not the dependable, efficiently organized Miss James who makes his life so much easier.
I want Matt to see me as a woman. A woman he wants.
Playing with fire . . .
The thought floating through my brain is apt, considering the potent heat in Matt's gaze.
"I don't understand how I could be, considering I've done nothing but work my tail off the entire evening," I retort, wincing the moment the words leave me. I blame my mounting frustration over our situation. I'm tired, I've done nothing but live and breathe this winery opening for the last few weeks, and I'm ready to go home and crawl into bed. Pull the covers over my head and sleep for a month.
But if a certain someone wanted to join me in my bed, there wouldn't be any sleeping involved. Just plenty of nakedness and kissing and hot, delicious sex . . .
My entire body flushes at the thought.
"And I appreciate you working that pretty tail of yours off for me. Though I'd hate to see it go," he drawls, his gaze dropping low. Like he's actually trying to check out my backside. His flirtatious tone shocks me, rendering me still.
Our relationship isn't like this. Strictly professional is how Matt and I keep it between us. But that last remark was most definitely what I would consider flirting. And the way he's looking at me . . .
Oh. My.
My cheeks warm when he stops directly in front of me. I can feel his body heat, smell his intoxicating scent, and I press my lips together to keep from saying something really stupid.
God, I want you. So bad my entire body aches for your touch.
Yeah. I sound like those romance novels I used to devour when I had more time to freaking read. I always thought those emotions were so exaggerated. No way could what happens in a romance novel actually occur in real life.
But I'm feeling it. Right now. With Matthew DeLuca. And the way he's looking at me almost makes me think he might be feeling it too.
"So um, h-how have I been driving you crazy?" I swallow hard. I sound like a stuttering idiot, and I'm trying to calm my racing heart but it's no use. We're staring at each other in silence, the only sound our accelerated breathing, and then he reaches out. Rests his fingers against my cheek. Lets them drift along my face.
Slowly I close my eyes and part my lips, sharp pleasure piercing through me at his intimate touch. I curl my fingers against the wall as if I can grab onto it, afraid I might slide to the ground if I don't get a grip and soon. I can smell him. Feel him. We've been close to each other before, but not like this. Never like this.
"You look so damn beautiful tonight," he whispers, his rough voice sending a scatter of goose bumps across my skin.
"Thank you." I crack open my eyes to find he's moved even closer, one hand braced against the wall, the other still touching my face. Tilting my head back, I meet his gaze, my lids flickering when he strokes his thumb across my lower lip.
"It's taking everything inside of me not to just give in and kiss you," he admits gruffly, his hot eyes roaming over my face, then dropping lower, settling on my chest. I can feel my nipples tighten beneath the silk fabric of my dress and I'm suddenly, achingly aware of what little clothing I'm wearing. No bra, no panties . . .
My dress is the only barrier between Matt's hands and my skin.
"What's stopping you?" I reach out, slip my fingers down the length of his black tie. I can't believe I just said that. I can't believe I'm touching him, though really I'm only caressing his tie. Big deal.
But I can feel all that hot, hard strength beneath his shirt, the beat of his heart, the scent of his skin. Relief floods me. We've been dancing around this attraction for months and it feels like we're finally giving in. Well, I've been dancing around it. He always seemed mostly oblivious to me.
Maybe he isn't. If his current behavior is any indication, he definitely isn't.
"I'm stopping me. Or at least I should be," he says, resting both of his hands on my waist as he steps so close, our legs tangle, our chests brush. I hold my breath, waiting for what I know will be a totally disappointing answer.
He doesn't answer at all. Instead, he lowers his head, his mouth settling on mine, softly. Sweetly. His kiss obliterates everything, all of my thoughts, until I'm consumed with the sound and the feel and the smell of him. He surrounds me, consumes me, and when he thrusts his tongue deep inside my mouth, I'm lost.
And only Matt will be able to find me.