Page 52 of Perfect (mis)Match

How could someone so ruthless look so damn angelic as he slept? Vincent’s dark hair was messy, and his arm was thrown above his head, highlighting his impressive bicep. He looked…peaceful.

I leaned over the edge of the bed to grab my camera. I’d jokingly suggested we take some naked shots in between our fun which he’d kiboshed immediately. I scrolled to the images Vincent had taken of me back at the office, expecting out of focus, amateurish shots.

But no, once again, Vincent had proved that he accomplished whatever he set his mind to. The photos were mainly close shots of my arm and hand, but he’d framed them so the shadows and light fell perfectly. The shimmer was so sparkly I’d hardly need to amp up the color contrast. I continued flipping through, half impressed and half jealous that he was so damn good. Photography wasn’t just about the mechanics; it was about seeing, really seeing, and Vincent had a damn good eye.

I stopped scrolling when I came to a series shot from a little farther away. My breath caught.

In these photos, my face was included. I was happy he’d lied to me about what part of my body he was photographing, because I would’ve been self-conscious had I known. But as it was, the photos were beautifully unguarded moments. I could tell I was watching Vincent watch me. I wasn’t posing in them. My expression was sultry, hungry. Actually, I looked pretty darn amazing.

“What are you smiling about?”

Vincent’s sleepy voice startled me.

“Your photography skills,” I answered as I glanced at him. “Are you bad atanything?”

He twisted his mouth as he considered it. “Pickleball.”

I laughed. “That’s it, huh? Well, I believe it. These photos are shockingly good. You don’t need to hire a staff photographer—you could do it yourself.”

“Why would I need to when I have you?” he asked as he slid closer and snaked his arm across me. “Hmm, and speaking of having you…” He flicked hungry eyes up and down my body.

“Yes? What were you saying?” I lowered myself so I was propped up on my elbow staring at him from a few inches away.

“Well, I just thought you should know that my latest obsession is this absolutely stunning new employee on my team,” he explained.

“Is that a fact?”

“It is,” he said as he moved closer to me.

We both froze as his hardness grew between us. I hitched my hips against him, a silent invitation. Vincent’s eyes flashed as he slowly slid his hands up my hips and raised the t-shirt I was wearing.

“No panties?” he gasped in faux surprise, as if he hadn’t seen me put on a shirt I stole from his drawer—and nothing else—before going to sleep the previous night.

“Underwear is overrated,” I said with a wicked smile Vincent didn’t see as he focused on my body, his gaze darkening as he repositioned himself. I felt the soft press of his lips on my hipbones, each kiss sending sparks through me.

“Vincent…” I whispered.

I wanted to tell him that we needed to stop worshipping each other’s bodies and eat breakfast, but the words wouldn’t come.Each kiss stole the thought away, replaced by the overwhelming need to feel him closer.

His lips trailed lower, coaxing me to open my legs wider for him. Soon, he was poised between my thighs, so close I could feel the heat of his breath.

“What are you doing?” I whispered in a strangled voice.

“Torturing you,” he murmured as he leaned closer to graze my skin with the lightest of kisses. His lips were soft, teasing, driving me to the edge with nothing but the promise of what was coming.

I let out a shaky breath, arching closer to him as his tongue briefly pushed against me, the sensation sending a shockwave through my body.

“Stop,” I sighed as I arched closer to him.

He sat up. “You really want me to stop?”

“Stoptorturingme,” I begged.

Instead of answering, he sealed his mouth on top of me and swirled his tongue in the most incredible ways. Licking, probing, sucking. All I could do was writhe against him. I threaded my fingers in his hair and couldn’t stop myself from fisting it. But Vincent didn’t mind. In fact, it made his efforts more focused.

I was on the edge, teetering closer to release with every stroke of his tongue. When he slid a finger inside of me, curling it just right, every nerve caught fire as the orgasm ripped through me with shocking intensity.

I arched and screamed out his name. Vincent didn’t stop—he didn’t let go until I was completely spent, trembling beneath his touch.

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