Page 72 of Match Point

Right now, it’s just the two of us, kissing up against a tree in the rain.

His fingertips move to swirl around the bare skin of my stomach on show before making their way down over my hip bone, continuing onwards to trail along the bottom hem of my playsuit shorts. His palm warms my outer thigh as he slips it underneath the fabric.

‘Hmm, this outfit is making things difficult,’ he notes, tugging at the shorts. ‘Next time, wear a dress so it’s easy access, please.’

I laugh lightly. ‘You think I should base my outfit decisions on the off-chance someone wants me up against a tree?’

‘Not just someone,’ he grumbles, a hint of jealousy in his tone that makes my heart skip a beat. ‘Me.’

‘And what about the paps?’ I remind him, arching my eyebrows.

He glances down the road. ‘There’s no one watching.’

‘They’re good at hiding.’

‘True.’ He sighs, leaning back and grabbing my hand to pull me away from the tree. ‘Better get you back quick.’

Dragging me down the pavement to my gate, he opens the latch and holds it open for me so I can go ahead and open the door, my keys out of my bag and in my hand at the ready. He’s behind me, kissing my neck, his hands roaming down my hips as I try to concentrate on opening the door, my hand slipping, the edge of the key leaving a scratch mark around the lock.

Finally I complete the task and we’re in. He kicks the door closed behind us with his foot as he presses me up against the wall, his mouth urgently seeking mine, his hands roaming around every inch of my back, waist, hips, moving too quickly for me to know where they are at any given time. We’re kicking off our shoes, I’m unbuttoning his sodden shirt, my fingers working the buttons as efficiently as possible while he kisses the breath out of me. He helps me with the last couple of buttons of his shirt, before he peels it off, dropping it to the floor where it lands with a heavy slap against the wooden panels, the rainwater beginning to pool around it. Look at him. This bare muscular chest, these broad solid shoulders, his smooth skin glinting with moisture from the rain. I brush the palms of my hands from the centre of his chest out to roll over his shoulders, digging my nails into the curve of his bicep. Fuck. I will never get over that I get to kiss this man, that I’m lucky enough to have him all to myself right now, that he’s going to let me touch him, feel him.

While I shamelessly gawp at him, his hands move to the tie at the bottom of my playsuit plunge collar and I laugh as he grows muddled, his brow furrowed while he tugs at the ends of the knot.

‘What the—’ he says in bewilderment.

‘It doesn’t untie there,’ I inform him, admiring how sexily cute he looks when he’s confused, his eyebrows pulled together, the little creases in between them deepening.

‘Then, how do you get it off?’

‘Like this.’

He watches in wonder as, one arm at a time, I reach up to nudge the damp sleeve down my shoulder, pulling my arm free of it until the top of my playsuit is hanging around my waist. His eyes follow the slope of my collarbones to the curve of my breasts, lifted with the help of a lacy blue plunge bra. He swallows while I continue to undress myself, sliding my hands under the elasticated waist of the playsuit, widening it and shifting my hips to draw it down over my arse before I let it fall to the floor. Kieran’s eyes darken as his pupils widen.

‘There,’ I say, my voice cracking slightly under the intensity of his gaze.

‘Holy shit. That—’ he begins in a low, gravelly voice, his warm hands sliding around my waist as he brings his lips to mine to talk quietly against them ‘—was unbelievably sexy.’

He crushes his mouth against mine and, after that brief interlude for a tutorial in taking off a playsuit, the kisses ramp back up to urgent, desperate, devouring. My hands thread around the sides of his head, grasping his hair, and I let him take the lead as he wraps his arms around my waist and manoeuvres us down the hall, stumbling into the darkness of the living room. Lost in the thrill of his lips, I’m not paying attention to where we are and find myself surprised when the backs of my legs hit the sofa. Before I can think about the next move, he lifts me up to wind my legs around his waist – God I love how he does that so easily – and lowers me onto my back across the sofa, positioning himself in between my legs. My breathing is coming out in short, shallow rasps, as he finds the light switch on the wall and turns it on. He leans over me, running a hand through my damp, dishevelled hair as it splays out on the cushion around my head.

He inhales deeply through his nose, his jaw tensing.

‘You’re so sexy with your hair wet like this,’ he tells me, before he lowers his lips to graze the skin in between my breasts, nipping at the little bow at the centre of my bra with his teeth, and then slowly begins to kiss a line all the way down my stomach to the top band of my pale blue thong, the lightness of his lips covering my skin in goosebumps.

‘You have no idea how beautiful you are,’ he whispers against my skin, making my stomach tighten at the tickle of his breath. ‘All day I’ve been thinking about doing this to you.’

‘Uh-huh, sure, when you were playing in Wimbledon you were thinking about this,’ I mutter, and then wonder why the hell I’ve chosen this moment to be sarcastic when I have the sexiest man on the planet in between my legs, kissing along my hips.

Don’t question him now, Flora. He can say whatever the fuck he wants down there.

‘Why do you think I won? I had to get the match to end. The sooner it was over, the sooner I could get my hands on you, the sooner we could do this.’ He grins, his fingers inching under the flimsy fabric of my underwear. ‘Simple.’

‘Oh, so this is why you won.’

‘You are why I won,’ he corrects, and my heart somersaults. He groans as his hand slides lower and he feels how wet he’s making me. ‘Fuck.’

He swiftly removes my thong, dropping it on the floor next to the coffee table and a memory flashes across my brain of the last time this room had underwear strewn across it – when I was standing in my towel and I dropped my pants in front of his team. It almost makes me laugh how long ago that feels now, how much has happened since then. He notices me suppress the smile.

‘What are you thinking about?’ he asks intrigued.

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