Page 94 of The Fiance Dilemma

I chuckled, and when I loaded the fork with a new bite and turned to offer it to him, it was purely out of reflex. Surprise registered on Matthew’s face, as if he thought he’d have to beg me to do such a thing. As if I hadn’t been reliving the evening with the wine over and over in my head. Men could be so blind sometimes. So— He closed his mouth around the fork.

“Good?” I asked, not breaking eye contact. The response he made was a groan. A groan. And it was so outrageously erotic that it made me squirm. I cleared my throat. “More?”

“Please.”

My fork snagged some of the roast this time, and when I turned to look at him, he was leaning back in the chair. My breath caught a little at the sight of him, looking so brash and presumptuous like that. So in control. So unassumingly smug.

The fact that we were alone in the deli made it all the worse. Better. Dangerous probably.

I cupped his jaw with my free hand. The touch of his stubble prickled at my palm, the warmth of his skin sending tingles down my wrist. Matthew’s eyelids fluttered closed. I brushed the pad of my thumb over his cheek, as if telling him that I, too, loved the feel of him. That I had missed this version of us. The version of something we’d never fully been. The realization of the latter, so powerful that it made my palm move, encouraged, hungry, trailing my fingers with it, until my thumb reached the corner of his mouth. What beautiful lips, I thought. I couldn’t even remember them on mine.

Matthew’s eyes reopened, and he parted his lips, demanding more attention. I obliged, grazing my finger across his bottom lip. Just a kiss of the pad of my finger against it. Just enough to make the brown in his eyes swirl with the same feeling I was sure mine did. Blood pumping, I wondered what I could get away with without breaking any of my rules. Or breaking all of them, except for his. I leaned a little closer, fork in the air again. Fingers wrapped around my wrist.

His head gave a shake. “Use your fingers.”

My eyes widened with surprise and… excitement. Yes. And it was pouring down my body now, making my skin tingle with the possibility, my words barely whispered, “My fingers?”

“Your fiancé is a handsy man,” he said, and ba-boom went my chest. “What’s anyone going to say? I’m yours to do with as you want.”

An overwhelming sense of… need swept me. Head to toes. Toes to head.What’s anyone going to say?I snatched the greasy cut of meat between my index finger and thumb. Matthew’s thighs bounced, impatient, determined, still sitting like a king waiting to be fed, and bringing my whole body toward his chest. My hip was sealed against his gut. Only I didn’t just feel that. I also felt him. And boy. Matthew was hard, so much I could feel him pulsing against me, only the fabric of my dress and his jeans separating him from me.

He let out a curt grunt. “What are you going to do about that, Josie? Give me what I want? Or make me beg a little more?”

Beg. I wondered if the sharp pang of victory at feeling him had to do with that. I pushed my hand closer to his lips, and when Matthew closed them around my fingers, he did it in silence this time. Keeping his eyes on me. I leaned closer, not wanting to miss a single second of him. Matthew snatched my wrist.

A short gasp escaped me. And before I could manage to get my breathing under control, he was bringing my hand to his lips, slipping the pad of my thumb into the warmth of his mouth.

All the air left me in one single swoosh. My whole body shook as I felt his tongue against my skin. Need swirled, and I imagined how that would feel somewhere else. My lips? My tongue? My skin? Anywhere would do. Matthew pulled my finger out of his mouth with a pop. I pulsed. All of me. All around. Need pooled between my legs.

“Tried to warn you, Baby Blue,” he said, and I swore I could hear the hint of that Boston cadence there. Oh God, I was already ready to combust. The weight of his palm at my waist shifted. It moved down. “I knew this would happen. That I’d taste an inch of you and I’d want more. Everything.” My eyelids fluttered closed. His touch drifted around my hip, landing on my thigh. Fingers closed around the fabric of my skirt, dragging it across my thigh. “Now I want it all.” My skirt kept riding up, shivers curling around my legs, pooling between my thighs. “Can I slip my hand under this?”

A breath escaped me, broken, needy.Now I want it all. Everything.I gave him a nod.

Skin clashed against skin. Mine warm, tingly, ready to burn under his. Matthew’s greedy, aflame. His palm dragged up. Matthew hummed. “Can you feel me against your hip, Josie?”

“Yes,” I whispered. I was defenseless under his touch. Effectively disarmed. And he was so hard. It was impossible to ignore.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear, the advances of his hand coming to a stop. “Do you trust me to keep you safe?”

“Yes.”

Matthew moved us, dragging the chair with one push of his body and legs, tucking us further into the corner, out of direct view from anyone coming in from the kitchen at the back of the deli, if I had to guess.

My heart tripped at the realization. The possibility of what he—we—was going to do. “Everyone’s in the back,” he said. The flickering of his fingers across my skin resumed, reassuring, encouraging. “It’s just us here.”

“That’s good,” I whispered. And at the same time, a part of me wanted to acknowledge that it was also bad. That I’d never done such a thing and it… excited me.

Matthew hummed in understanding, as if I’d always been his to read. His thumb tickled around my inner thigh. Just a little. Just slightly. Just an inch. I shivered. “Anyone could come back at any given minute. See me with my fiancée in my lap, food forgotten. Hand up her skirt.”

All the air in my lungs escaped me. I couldn’t believe we were doing this. I couldn’t believe we never had. “Your hand’s not high enough.”

Matthew’s chuckle was surprised. Delighted. Dark. His palm was splayed around my inner thigh in one single motion of his hand. “What else?”

“You’re…” I swallowed. Overcome. “Not touching me.”

His fingers pushed upward, reaching the elastic of my panties. My whole body clenched. “Touching what?”

I met his gaze. “Me.”

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