Page 80 of Matthew
This wasn’t reckless anymore.
It wasn’t a maybe.
It was a yes.
In her bedroom, soft light spilled through the window, casting shadows on the quilt with a blue and gold daisy-a-day pattern her grandmother had made for her birthday last spring. The air held a quiet stillness, as if the space itself knew this moment mattered.
Matthew paused inside the doorway. She turned to face him, her heart thudding wildly, but she didn’t back down.
Not this time.
She stepped closer and slipped her hands beneath the hem of his shirt. “Your turn,” she whispered, lifting the fabric slowly, loving how his flesh quivered under her touch as she bared inch after incredible inch of warm skin and muscle.
His eyes never left hers.
When the shirt dropped to the floor and his hands found her waist again, her breath caught, not from nerves, but from want. From trust.
From knowing exactly who she was letting in.
His touch was gentler now, tender in a way that made her knees weak. He dragged his fingers slowly along her hips, then up, bunching the thin cotton of her sundress in his hands.
She raised her arms, letting him pull it over her head.
His gaze raked over her, and his inhale and muttered curse that fell from his lips when he discovered her braless made her burn hotter.
“You,” he said softly, his voice raspy and low, “are going to ruin me.”
Callie reached for his belt. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”
The air between them sizzled, thickening with heat and promise as she undid the buckle, pushed his jeans down, and let them fall to the floor. He bent and made quick work of his boots and socks, and when he stood, she brushed her fingers over his jutting length through the thin fabric of his briefs. Matthew’s jaw clenched, and he momentarily closed his eyes.
Man, he was magnificent. The urge to touch him became too strong.
Trembling, she ran her hands up his torso and kissed his chest. “I need you, Matthew.”
His breath caught, the sound rough and raw against the quiet. He leaned down and kissed her again, deeper this time, answering her with his body.
Callie slid her fingers into his hair and pressed close, needing to feel him against her. The incredible man was solid, warm…hers. She drew back to stare at his mouthwatering form. Broad shoulders, carved muscles, a faint scar below his ribs she hadn’t noticed before.
She traced it with a fingertip. “What’s this from?”
“Ugly mission. Worse timing.” He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth. “But not this. Not us.”
The words settled deep, but before she could reply, he was easing her back until her legs hit the bed.
Her heart skipped, then raced. Not from nerves, but from the ache of wantinghiminherspace, without walls or hesitation.
It was all new to her and exciting and right.
Matthew paused, as if he needed to memorize the moment, then he slowly lowered her onto the mattress. The way he looked at her made her feel desired, special…cherished.
She watched with bated breath as he shucked his briefs, dug a condom out of his discarded jeans, then proceeded to roll it on.
A heartbeat later, he crawled up her body, covering her with every bit of glorious, heated, muscle. Callie glided her hands over his back, her heart pounding as if trying to break free from her chest.
Matthew lifted up, bracing himself above her, his gaze locked on hers. “You okay?”
She nodded, her breath catching. “More than.”
