Page 47 of Matthew
Callie’s body swayed. She grasped the edge of the table, and her heart rocked in her chest as he tugged off her boots, then reached for the clasp on her jeans. A second later, he dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands sliding down her hips, peeling her panties and jeans past her thighs as she lifted to help him.Her breath came fast, broken, her heart pounding, mirroring the storm outside the lean-to walls.
He was going slowly on purpose.
And she was burning alive.
The backs of her thighs met the edge of the table when he finished stripping her bare. Rain hit the metal roof above in rhythmic taps, but the blood rushing through her ears was quickly drowning out all sound.
He looked up at her from beneath soaked lashes, his eyes dark with heat. Then he kissed the inside of her knee.
Slowly. Intentionally.
She jolted at the contact, every nerve exposed.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Her answer was immediate. “Yes.”
He smiled and hooked her thighs over his shoulders, and when her back met the table, his hands spread her open like she was something worth studying. Worshipping.
And then hedid.
The first brush of his tongue made her entire body jolt. Soft, then firmer, then again, like he was memorizing what made her gasp, what made her fingers curl tightly against the edge of the table.
“Matthew,” she whispered, one hand flying to his hair. “Yes…”
He groaned against her, the vibration dragging another moan from her throat. Her hips shifted without thinking, chasing the next wave, then the next, his mouth relentless, his tongue tracing every flicker of tension building inside her.
She tried to hold on—tried to make it last—but she was too far gone. Too overwhelmed by the storm outside, the heat inside, the way his hands anchored her as if he already knew she was coming undone.
When she broke, it wasn’t quiet.
She cried out, her body shaking, heart slamming against her ribs like it wanted to claw its way out.
And still, he didn’t stop. Not until he let her down slowly, then pressed soft kisses to her inner thigh and then he rose back to his feet.
Her legs were still trembling.
He didn’t gloat. Didn’t smirk.
He simplylookedat her like she was the only thing that mattered.
Callie sat up and reached for him, her fingers fumbling at the waistband of his jeans. “Your turn.”
He leaned in and kissed her—slow, open, so very thorough. Heat from the smoldering fire flared to life. Callie had no idea how she could be ready so soon, but she wanted more. So much more.
And then he reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and slid a condom free.
Her pulse kicked again.
“Still sure?” he asked.
Her answer was a low, needy sound as she dragged him in close. “Yes. Absolutely, yes.”
Chapter Eleven
Rain pattered on the roof of the lean-to, but all Matthew could focus on was the way Callie looked at him like he was wanted. Needed. Her lips were parted, eyes dark, wet hair half out of her ponytail, clinging to her shoulders.
God, she was beautiful.
