Page 47 of Don't Be My Valentine

He’d come out there to save me.

Yeah, but it’s his fault you were in danger in the first place.

That hadn’t been his fault. It wasn’t like he could control the psychopaths who had done this. But sure, he should’ve told me. But why would he have? It wasn’t like we were anything other than friends. Or fuck buddies. Shoot, before we’d come to the Bahamas I’d held nothing but contempt for the guy.

Now, all I wanted was to get into his bed and absorb his warmth and scent and…god, was I pathetic or what?

It’s just a few more nights and then it’s over.

I knocked on the door once, softly.

There was a beat, and my nerves built. What if he wasn’t here? What if he didn’t want to see me? And since when had I become a friggin’ teenager who was worried about this type of thing?

The door opened.

Matt’s chocolate eyes melted me. He leaned his arm against the doorjamb and tilted his head downward. “Hi,” he said.

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Fine.”

“Come on in.” He stepped back, and I entered, sweeping past him so that my arm brushed against his chest. Heat built inside me instantly. Images of us together came back, and I held my breath to keep myself steady.

The door shut behind me.

I stood in the center of his room and waited, my gaze fixed on the floor-to-ceiling window and the view beyond it. The moon hung low in the sky, casting its light over the ocean. The glimmer was almost magical.

Don’t romanticize this too much.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” I said.

Matt’s footsteps tracked toward me, and he stopped behind me. His body heat mingled with mine, and I waited. For the first touch, for any indication that he wanted this as badly as I did.

“There wasn’t a chance I’d do anything else. You had to have known that,” he said.

“I didn’t. I didn’t think about it at all.” I ran my hands over my arms. I’d gone back to my room, taken a shower, and changed into a plain white dress that clung to my curves and stopped just above the knee. It was a look manufactured to drive him crazy.

“Why not?” he asked.

“I’ve never been good at playing the damsel in distress card. I like being in control of my own destiny.” Even down to the application I’d sent off, and the extra jobs I’d have to pick up once I got back to Florida. “Though, you could have fucking told me that there were people around who wanted to do you harm.”

“I had no idea,” he said. “God’s honest truth. I called my people in Florida and checked that Cruz hadn’t left. I was short-sighted. That’s my fault, and I can’t stand the fact that it almost ended with you hurt.”

“What’s going to happen to them now?” I asked. “Is that it? It’s over? Just like that?”

“Cruz liked to believe he was a big fish,” Matt replied. “Truth is, he was a small fry. He had friends in bad places, but his little operation wasn’t anything on the scale of what my friends have dealt with before.”

“The FBI are your friends now?”

“I guess you could say that.”

A silence drifted between us. I was only hurting myself by being here with him. I should’ve been angrier that he hadn’t told me. He owed me that much at least. But I couldn’t summon up that emotion now.

I was just relieved. It was over. We were safe.

It didn’t matter how complicated this was. I wanted him.

“Summer,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. The thought of you in danger…”

“Forget about it, please. I’m not in danger anymore.”

“But the thought.”

We rested in silence, me still gazing out at that moon and the ocean. The wedding was in a few days. This might’ve been our last chance to be together at all.

“Touch me,” I said.

His hands came down on my shoulders, and I turned toward him, my core tightening and my pussy growing wet.

Matt caught me with his gaze and his strong arms. He brushed his fingertips over my cheek, his eyes flicking back and forth as he took me in. “Fuck,” he said softly. “Fuck it.” He brought his lips down on mine and crushed me to his chest.

I lost my breath, both from the pressure and desire. My hands tore at his clothes, and I ripped them off his body, bending to kiss the tattoos that arced over his shoulders and down to his chest.

We lost ourselves.

My dress fell to the floor. His belt ripped free. Shoes kicked away. Bra flung off to one side. He lowered me to the bed, both of us shaking for it, and thrust into me with a need so desperate and hot that I cried out.

I dug my fingernails into his back and clung on for dear life, enveloping him with every part of my body and soul. It was slow and sweet, then hot and fast. Our sweat mingled, our lips connected, and he moved inside me like he’d never touched me before. Or anyone before.

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