Page 71 of Miss Matched

Kennedy

WhatwasIthinking inviting Zac upstairs? Especially after today—the roof, that kiss, his confession. A kaleidoscope of bad decisions clouds my vision.

Let’s pile it on, then. Great move, Kennedy.

I slip into comfortable clothes, but there aren’t enough layers when he has the power to strip me with one glance.

Staring at the closed bathroom door, all I can think about is the mountain of solid muscle in my shower, the streams of water running along that perfectly carved stomach and down his legs. If he could cull the aching without me dissolving into a pathetic mess, that would be wonderful.

While I wait for him to finish, the pizza arrives, and I do what I do best—stress eat. I inhale two slices, swallowing them down with my thoughts. On one hand, I’m vividly aware that him being in my apartment is a terrible idea, my restraint slipping with the second hand on the clock. On the other, I’m desperate for him in every way I promised to never be for a man.

“You changed.” Zac’s voice catches me by surprise, and when I spin to face him—fuck,the man is in nothing but a towel.

Hungry eyes rake over me, and even though I’m fully clothed, I’m the one who feels stripped bare.

“You’re, uh, naked,” I stammer, pointing out the obvious like a schoolgirl.

Get it together, Kennedy. He’s been inside you. Naked is the least of your worries. Or maybe that’s exactly what you should be worried about.

“My clothes were dirty; didn’t think about that before the shower.” He pulls his lips between his teeth, eyeing me with a greedy stare, like he’s about to pick up a fork and try a bite of his favorite dessert. My gaze falls to a thick outline forming under the weight of his towel, and I know I’m staring, but I can’t look away.

“Like what you see?”

My eyes snap back up to Zac’s grinning face as he takes a step closer. My body lights in a fever with each dip of his gaze.

“Well, do you?” he asks again.

I nod slowly, but I don’t move. My back is frozen against the edge of the counter, my nails digging into it. I’m mesmerized by the swiftness of him stalking his prey.

Take me, taste me, devour me.

There’s still time to turn back. Time to tell him we need to hit the brakes before we skid off the cliff. I know it’s the right thing to do. But as I look into those deep green eyes that stare straight through me, I plant my foot on the gas pedal instead. “I like what I see.”

Zac stops a foot ahead of me. The echoes of rain slap against the window. The room is lit like a furnace with its temperature turned all the way up. His stare is dark and fervent. Ruthless eyes wring me like a wet towel. And just when I think his gaze is enough to undo me, take me out piece by piece to play, his hand releases the knot of fabric, and he stands before me in exposed glory.

Whatever power I thought I had falls to the floor with that towel. A studio applause echoes in the distance, and every bone in my body aches in agreement. This man is in complete and utter control.

Droplets of water drip from his hair and roll down his carved arms and chest. The deep cut muscle points to what I’m craving: his dick, hard and thick and begging between us. I reach out and grab onto it, squeezing a drop of wetness from the tip. I pump it only once before his hand finds my wrist to stop me.

“You want this?” He pumps my hand along his solid length with such intensity, my vision blurs.

“Yes.”

“You want my dick inside that hot pussy?” His voice vibrates through me like tires on gravel.

I nod. “Yes.”

“Patience, baby.”

The smile that darkens his eyes makes my knees buckle, but his body is there to catch me in place. He presses me against the counter, his dick hard and ready between us. Then he hooks his thumbs in the band of my leggings, stripping them downward. But instead of taking them completely off, he lets them bind at my ankles. He picks me up and plants my ass on the cool surface of the counter as he pushes against the inside of my knees to spread them open and into the shape of a diamond.

I feel the heat radiating from my center, begging for his touch as he rakes his fingernails up my thighs and stops just short of where I need the pressure. Longing calls out to him from between my legs.

“You upset me earlier,” he says, not taking his eyes off my yearning flesh. I’m fully exposed from the waist down, but instead of familiar nerves, I just get wetter.

“How, wh-why?” Words fail me. Zac’s fingers glide along my slit, and then he turns his hand to roll his knuckles against my throbbing clit.

“You’re already drenched,” he says with a heated grin.

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