Page 46 of Matthew
Her breath hitched. “So cross it.”
And that was it. The dam broke.
His hands were on her waist, her fingers tangled in his soaked T-shirt, and the kiss that followed was nothing like the last. It was heat and hunger and tension snapping loose in a heartbeat.
The storm raged outside, but in that lean-to, surrounded by wood and rain and memory, Callie stopped bracing for the fallout and let herself feel everything.
The rain hammered down around them, sheets of water turning the nursery into a blur beyond the shelter’s overhang. Inside the lean-to, it was warm and quiet, except for their breath and the low patter of water on wood.
Matthew kissed her again, slower this time, more certain.
Callie leaned into him, her hands flat against his chest, feeling the heat through the wet fabric of his shirt. He was solid, grounded. Everything she hadn’t let herself want until now.
One of his hands traced up her spine, fingers splayed, a gentle pressure that made her breath catch. The other cupped her jaw as his mouth moved over hers, coaxing her open. When his tongue touched hers, slow and deliberate, her knees threatened to buckle.
He felt it. Stepped in closer.
Callie’s hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him toward her, needing him the way the parched soil needed this storm—sudden, wild, overdue.
He broke the kiss only long enough to murmur against her mouth, “You sure?”
She nodded. “I’ve never been more sure.”
That look he gave her was dark and reverent, and it nearly undid her.
Then he lifted her, his hands firm on her hips, and set her gently on the wide wooden table. It was worn smooth by time, still warm from the afternoon sun, the perfect height for him to step between her knees.
He did.
Her legs bracketed his hips, and she could barely breathe as he stared down at her, water dripping from his shirt, eyes fixed on hers. There was heat in that look, undeniable, unguarded, and also something steadier. Something that made her feel chosen.
His hands lifted to the hem of her shirt.
She didn’t stop him.
The soaked cotton clung to her skin, but he was patient, peeling it upward inch by inch until it cleared her upheld arms. She shivered, although she wasn’t cold. Then he reached around, unclasping her bra with the same quiet confidence, sliding thestraps down her arms when she lowered them, watching her face the whole time.
His smoldering gaze made her breath catch.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough and sexy.
Unable to remain still, she grabbed the bottom of his shirt and shoved it upward. “Your turn.”
He smirked and helped, dragging the damp fabric over his head and tossing it aside. The lean muscle beneath flexed as he moved, water still trickling down his chest. Her pulse leapt at the magnificent sight. He was mouthwatering.
She ran her hands along the path, her palms flat against his warm skin, up over his shoulders, then curled her fingers into his neck to pull him back in.
Their mouths crashed together again, harder this time. Hotter.
His hands roamed her bare back, then cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples until she gasped against his mouth. He didn’t stop. The incredible man kissed her deeper, pulling her closer until her legs tightened around his hips and she could feel how hard he was through his jeans.
Every nerve in her body fired.
“Matthew,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Please.”
He pulled back just far enough to look at her, his breath ragged, his hair wet and tousled from her hands.
Then he kissed her again, slipping his tongue inside her mouth, sweeping, exploring, demanding…setting her body on fire, before he released her and stepped back.
