Page 73 of Match Point

‘Nothing.’

‘Come on,’ he insists in a low, deep voice, moving up to hover over me. ‘I know something funny just crossed your mind. You got that twinkle in your eye.’

‘I get a twinkle in my eye?’

‘When you’re amused,’ he says matter-of-factly. ‘Your eyes go all mischievous. It’s like you’re sharing a joke with yourself.’

I break into a wide smile, my heart flipping, because I love that he’s noticed things about me. Little things that others wouldn’t see or understand, or bother to know. Like he sees me in a way that no one else does. I want him to be that person for me.

I want to be that person for him.

‘So?’ he prompts, kissing the corner of my mouth gently. ‘What was it?’

‘I was thinking about the last time my underwear was dropped in here – when I was in my towel and Neil came over. I think it was the second or third morning you were here.’

‘The first,’ he corrects without a moment’s hesitation. He smiles at my look of surprise. ‘I remember it very well. You standing in that towel, the water still dripping down your neck from the shower.’ A sound of approval comes from his throat as he moves back to kiss my stomach again, just below my belly button, his stubble scratching across my skin, his hands gripping my hips. ‘I was imagining what you looked like beneath it.’ His lips move lower and heat floods through my body. ‘And now I get to know. I’m the luckiest man in the world.’

As I stare up at the ceiling, my heart is hammering out of control. His lips explore between my legs, and he takes his time to tease me with light kisses before his tongue settles in the centre and with one stroke he sends jolts of electricity racing through my body.

Lifting my arm to grasp the cushion behind me, I shut my eyes and tilt my head back, letting out a moan as I lose myself. As he moves one of his hands from my hips to sink his fingers inside me while increasing the pressure of his tongue against my clit, the sensations are almost too much for me to handle and any inhibitions are lost as I gasp and cry out his name. He groans in pleasure at my response and escalates his rhythm, and my whole body starts to tremble, my mind spinning, as the swirling heat within me builds and builds.

‘Kieran, stop,’ I manage to gasp, biting my lip and trying to make my brain work, as he does what I ask. ‘I want you. I want to come together. Please.’

He considers my request and leans forward to kiss along my collarbone and shoulder while I try to collect my senses after his lips sent them into a spin, before he leaves the room. My body is too flushed with heat for me to register how long he’s gone, but when he returns with a glint of foil in his hand, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude to have him back and impatient for more. He’s had his fun wielding the control, now it’s my turn.

As he pulls down his clothes and rolls on the condom, I swing my legs off the sofa and stand up to press my hands against his chest, moving him back to sit down, his eyes widening as I stand over him. Gripping his shoulders for support, I lift myself up to straddle him, my knees settling either side of his hips. His hands rubbing up and down my waist, he leans his head back and exhales through his nose.

‘Have I mentioned how beautiful you are?’ he murmurs, his eyes locked on mine.

I smile, running my hands over his bare chest, savouring the smooth touch of his skin beneath my fingers. ‘You’re beautiful, too. I can’t believe…’

You’re mine.

I stop myself just in time before I say it, my face flooding with heat at how close I’d come to saying something that might have scared the crap out of him. He’s not mine, not really. Maybe in this moment, maybe for tonight, but it’s too early for me to have any kind of claim to him, no matter how I feel. And I do feel. I feel so much. It’s stupid how my feelings for him are growing at an alarming rate, but with every second that passes in his company, I want more. I want to know everything about him, his feelings, his thoughts, his memories, his opinions, his dreams. Is it possible to fall this hard this soon? Am I kidding myself? Is this what people mean when they know full well that they should hold back just in case of inevitable heartbreak, but have absolutely no intention of doing so?

If he hadn’t glanced up at me during that tennis match. If it wasn’t me he was seeking out when he needed whatever he was looking for in that moment: support, confidence, courage, hope. Then, I might not let myself believe that this has the potential to be something. But I do.

When you’re in the room, there’s no one else, he said to me earlier tonight.

I hope he meant it, because I’m starting to think there might be no one else but him for me in any room ever again. It’s foolish, dangerous, downright stupid. He’s the sort of person who must have every woman he’s been with thinking like that. But there’s nothing I can do. I’m letting myself hope, because there’s no better feeling.

I can’t believe…

…you’re mine.

…we’re here.

…I’m falling.

So many ways of finishing that sentence that I have to hide from him. I wish I could read his mind, but I’m so thankful he can’t read mine. He’d run a fucking mile.

Kieran doesn’t ask me to complete the sentence, but his eyes are boring into mine as though he might have an idea. I can’t let him see the truth, so I bow my head to part his lips with my tongue, deepening the kiss enough for him to moan with frustration into my mouth, his fingernails digging into my hips. I need him inside me. I straighten and then sink slowly onto him, using his chest to balance myself as I push up and then slide further down, my breath hitching at his size as it fills me.

‘Flossie,’ he gasps, his eyes blazing as I take him in. ‘You feel incredible – fuck.’

Holding on to my hips, he helps me find a rhythm. I grow more confident – he makes me feel more confident, moaning and muttering about how sexy I am – and he moves one hand to my bra, dragging down the material to palm my breast, groaning as I tilt my head back and lose myself in… fuck it, lose myself in everything. No more thoughts about where this is going, what he means to me or what I mean to him. I don’t want to get inside my head and overthink anymore; I want to be in this moment utterly and completely.

I lose myself in the way he feels inside me, full and hard and pulsing and perfect; the way he tastes when I kiss him; the way he looks at me with those bewitching eyes like I’m it for him, whether that’s just for this moment or forever; the way he smells, the hazy scent of his cologne tonight, a scent I know will make me feel weak at the knees if I ever smell it on someone else again; and the way he’s touching me, as though he desperately wants every part of me, nothing hidden, nothing held back.

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