Love Bites

He swallowed and fought the urge to take a step back from the perceptive gaze she trained on him. “Hypothetically,” he began, relieved when she smiled.

It was their little game, the way they revealed things to each other when the topic became too personal. Cait had started it the first time she’d told him about a guy going down on her, and she’d wanted his advice about how to encourage her boyfriend to give her what she wanted. Since then, anytime the conversation turned to intimate topics, they used the word as a signal things were about to get serious.

“Of course.”

“Hypothetically, it may have had to do with us both wanting someone else. At least at first. Now…”

Now everything had changed. If he hadn’t been in love with Tris a year ago—though he was reasonably sure he’d been on the way—he sure as hell was now.

That love was reciprocated, he knew. They didn’t talk about it because they didn’t have to. Like the other shared burden they’d avoided discussing since the first night they’d gotten together.

“Someone else.” She nodded briskly. “Someone I know?”

Matt had to smile. God, she could be so endearingly clueless. “Think you might have met her.”

Pain rolled over her face before she composed it. “So it’s a her?”

“Most definitely.” He reached up to cradle her jaw in his palm. Their gazes clashed and held, the air between them hot enough he expected to smell smoke. “Go take a look in the mirror, Cait.”

When her lips fell open, he pressed his advantage and moved in close. He’d waited for this moment, this opportunity, for so long. Maybe it hadn’t been presented to him the way he’d hoped, but he wouldn’t turn away.

If she really didn’t want him, if their occasional flirtations and lingering looks over the years just amounted to the natural offshoot of a guy and a girl spending too much time together, better he know now.

And if he still had any chance of getting her to see another man besides Tristan, he had to make this count.

Instead of going in for the kill, he laid his lips full on hers, absorbing the feel of her beneath him. Erotic images of her being beneath him in other ways filled his mind. Her legs opening for him, locking around his hips as he drove into her until she accepted every inch of him. Until she pleaded for more. Sliding into her so deep that he became part of her, as she became part of him.

He felt her tremble again, but she didn’t shake. The sound that escaped her mouth and slipped into his spoke of pleasure, not fear.

When he extended his fingers into her hair, angling her head backward so he could lick his way inside, she wrapped her tongue around his to invite him in.

Thank God.

The intensity grew quickly, hijacking his plans to go slow. He slanted his mouth over hers and consumed her hungrily, their tongues fighting for dominance while her body revved against his. Her breasts pushed against his chest. Her hands clutched his hips. Their centers locked together. He rocked against the vee of her thighs, and she moaned, her shudder seeping into him while they devoured each other.

How often had he dreamed of the first time he’d taste her? No matter what happened after this, there could be no going back. He’d always remember when she’d tasted of beer and dark excitement, the kind that pushed people to do very bad things.

Like sweeping his arm out and sending the mug on the table clattering onto the floor. Her favorite mug.

Even so the crash barely registered as he picked her up and set her on the table. His patience had vanished in an instant. He hadn’t expected the way her flavor would punch through his system.

He needed more. All of her, raining down his throat.

“I’m only asking because it’s you. Normally I’d say to hell with it and take my shot,” he said, his voice guttural. “I want in those pants of yours, and I’m going to get there. But only if you say yes first.”

To his surprise, she gave him a small smile and rubbed her palm over her wool-clad thigh. “I’m wearing a dress.”

“Is that a yes?”

She paused just long enough to make him want to drop to his knees and say a loud, fervent prayer. “No.” He still hadn’t recovered from her answer when her smile widened. “That’s a hell yes, please.”

He soon found himself on his knees anyway, close enough to her heat to breathe her in. He translated the confusion on her face as he rolled up her dress, revealing her pale legs. No stockings or garters. Just pure, untouched flesh.

Really untouched.

His mouth went dry, and he glanced up to seek her permission again. This wasn’t some random girl he’d hooked up with in a bar. It also wasn’t Tristan, who not only took what he dished out but served it right back up to him.