Page 81 of Matthew
His mouth captured hers then, and he kissed her slowly, thoroughly, and deeply, and everything inside her began to unravel. Each point of contact sent sparks tumbling through her veins, but it was the way Matthewlookedat her, the way heheldher, that undid Callie completely.
It wasn’t only his body she wanted. No. Callie wanted this strong, caring, sexy man in her life forever.
When he finally settled between her thighs, she opened for him without thought, without fear. He entered her with one smooth thrust, his groan low and guttural against her ear. Her breath hitched, and her hands clutched at his shoulders as the sensation stole every thought from her head.
“Callie,” he whispered against her ear.
She gasped, arching into him, her hands clutching at his back. “Yes…”
He stilled for a moment, his forehead pressed to hers, breath ragged. “All good?”
She smiled up at him, breathless and full. “So good.”
His mouth curved, hungry, affectionate, and then he moved, slow at first, deeply and deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world.
And she gave herself over to it.
To him.
To them.
Every roll of his hips drew soft moans from her lips. Her name kept spilling from his as if it were the only word he remembered.
Their mouths met again, feverish now, hands roaming, bodies moving, giving, taking. Each stroke a slow, amazing promise. Not rushed. Not greedy. Just a deep, patient rhythm that made her forget how to breathe.
She ran her fingers through his hair, down his neck, holding him close as her hips lifted to meet his. They moved in sync now, quiet gasps and soft moans the only sounds besides the rustle of quilt and the thudding of her pulse in her ears.
Matthew kissed her again and again—her mouth, her jaw, the hollow beneath her ear—every press of his lips hungry and devastating. She could feel how much he wanted her, not only in the strength of his body or the heat between them, but in the way helookedat her as if she was it.
Shewas home.
He shifted, adjusting his angle, and a sharp wave of pleasure tore through Callie. She gasped, nails digging gently into his shoulders.
“Right there,” she whispered, her voice ragged, barely recognizable.
He did it again and again.
Her thighs trembled around him, her body winding tighter with each slow, unrelenting thrust. He reached down, finding the place where her nerves were strung tight and touched her with the same aching care he always did.
Her breath caught. “Matthew…”
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough against her throat. “Come for me, Callie.”
And she did—splintering apart beneath him, every nerve alight, every part of her crying out as the pleasure crested and crashed and her whole body trembled beneath his. He followed soon after, groaning her name as he buried himself deep and held her through it, shaking with the force of his own release.
He didn’t move right away, just stayed there, his heart racing against hers, both wrapped in something too big to define.
Eventually, he kissed the corner of her mouth and whispered, “You wreck me.”
Callie smiled, still catching her breath. “Good.”
***
The next morning, Callie woke slowly, her limbs tangled in warm sheets and even warmer skin. For a second, she didn’t move, didn’t want to risk breaking the spell of early light slanting through the curtains or the steady heartbeat beneath her ear.
Matthew was still asleep, one arm tucked behind his head, the other wrapped loosely around her waist. His chest rose and fell in a quiet rhythm that grounded her more than any alarm clock ever could.
She traced a lazy fingertip along the curve of his bicep, watching the muscles twitch, making sure this wasn’t a dream.
