One Blazing Night (8 page)

“I can't even guess how you've done this.”

“Magic,” she said. Just like now. The whole evening. It was all magic.

“How come I never saw this fanciful side to you?”

She almost said it was because he'd practically avoided her during his last two years at MIT.

But then he saved her from herself by kissing her nose, then her lips. He pulled back when she touched his cheek.

“What do you want, Sam? Whatever it is, I want you to have it.”

Still touching his face, she looked at his chest, the dusting of dark hair, his toned muscles, his patient erection. “Would you be offended if I told you I don't want a lot of foreplay?”

He laughed and she felt his mouth shift in her palm. Touching him like this grounded her. Made her want more. She tugged him down and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Offended? No. It's taken everything I have not to ravage you.”

“Really?”

“God, yes. Feel my chest.”

She rested her palm over his heart and felt the drumming within his chest and how he was trembling. “Oh,” she said. “So I'm not the only one.”

“No,” he said, leaning down to steal a kiss. “The condoms are all the way in the bedside drawer.”

“That's really close.”

“Yes. But it means I have to move. Promise you'll remember exactly where we were when I get back?”

It was her turn to laugh. “I promise. Good grief, you'll be seconds.”

“It's the flow, Sammy. Now, just hold that thought.”

When he dislodged her legs, she understood what he meant about the flow. They'd been in a bubble just then, one that didn't concern itself with the practicalities of life.

Good thing he'd remembered the protection.

His hiss made her look. He'd rolled the rubber on, getting that out of the way, and before she could blink, he was back where he'd been, and her legs were hugging his waist.

He completed his kiss, making sure she understood exactly what was going to happen. Thrilled and anxious, she touched him more, running her hands over his broad back and sides. “I doubt I'll ever be more ready than this.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “I want you inside me, Matthew.”

“Oh, Christ,” he murmured, more to the air than her. Seconds later he was balanced on one arm while his free hand guided his cock. His eyelids fluttered again, making his unfairly long lashes brush the tops of his cheeks. His lips parted on a moan as he entered her.

It didn't matter that she wanted to remember everything. It happened too quickly, her rush as well as his.

He thrust again, clenching his teeth together, as if trying to slow down, but the feral way he sounded, the flaring of his nostrils, the flush on his face, made her writhe beneath him with need.

After shifting for better traction, he entered her again. Harder. He pulled out more slowly, but it didn't take him long to repeat the powerful thrust.

She found herself keening, failing to trap the sounds of her pleasure behind closed lips.

“Let me hear you,” he said, his voice so low it rumbled straight through her.

“I just...”

“What?”

“Just don't...”

He slowed, and she panicked, tugging on his hair.

His head jerked back.

“Sorry. Sorry. Just don't stop.”

He choked out a laugh. “Okay. But you'll have to let go of my hair.”

She did just that, and he made her forget about her embarrassment when his next push moved them both up the bed.

“I want to—” His words trailed off in a groan as he found a new rhythm, one that drove the act to another level.

“Yes,” she said, more breath than sound. It was the only word she could find. With every thrust her whole body shimmered with pleasure. It had started low in her belly but had spread like a low fire through her thighs and her chest. She felt the beginning of a climax pooling deep. “Oh, my God, Matt.”

“Christ, Sam. I'm not going to last.”

“Don't you dare stop.”

A drop of his sweat hit the tip of her chin. “Sam,” he said again, his voice raspy, his shoulders and arms straining. “Sam,” he echoed, turning her name into a desperate plea.

Then, impossibly, he moved faster. So fast it was crazy sexy, and it made her reach down between them with her free hand to take herself the last few seconds to orgasm.

She cried out. Loudly. Right in his ear, but he didn't seem to notice. His body stiffened, and he got that look on his face.

She didn't care. She was too busy riding out the aftershocks and trembling, memorizing the feelings so she could replay this again and again in her mind.

Eventually, his head drooped. He backed up in the nick of time, or he would have hit her chin with his forehead.

“Holy crap, Sam. That was over way too fast.”

“No, it wasn't,” she said, her voice almost back to normal. “It was perfect.”

“Yeah, it was kind of perfect.”

“Perfect,” she whispered, no modifier needed.

“But next time, we'll take it slower.”

Next time? She shivered. It wasn't just an aftershock, either. There was going to be a next time!

8

M
ATT
HAD
FINALLY
cooled down and let the night roll on. It wasn't like him to go so hard and heavy so quickly. Usually, he'd have the condom under his pillow; he'd have brought water bottles for two. It wasn't as if he hadn't had time to get ready, but he had forgotten. He'd been too busy worrying about her reaction to the massages.

He pulled her close so he could feel her beautiful body against his. It made his cock twitch. Not that he could do much about it. Yet.

Sam shuddered.

“You cold?”

“A little.”

He kissed her forehead, then rolled away to the side of the bed and sat up.

“Where are you going?”

“To pull the blankets up. Then I'm going to the fridge.”

“Oh, there should be grapes. And cookies. And milk.”

“Anything else?”

Her eyebrows went down as she thought about the question. “Make sure you bring the white chocolate chip macadamia cookies.”

“I promise,” he said, watching her smile contentedly. He was pretty satisfied himself. He'd hoped it would be good between them, but so far, it was off the charts.

After he put on his robe and made sure she was warm, he made his way to the kitchen. Luckily, he'd spied a decent lap tray in an earlier foray, so he got that out and piled on grapes, a bottle of milk, two glasses and, of course, cookies. His favorite, Walkers shortbread, and the ones she'd requested, plus some gingersnaps for the hell of it.

He almost whistled on the way back, which was nuts. He didn't whistle. But the walls told his story. They were blushing pink. Too girlie by far, although he had to admit, they were onto something. The massage had been outstanding, and his time with Sam?

“Epic,” he said as he returned to the bedroom.

“What?”

“I bring a feast. And I forgot napkins.” He put the tray down and headed out again.

“Wait.”

He turned.

“I don't mind crumbs in the bed.”

He grinned and joined her. Sam was sitting against the headboard, and he put the tray between them. “This is a really fancy-ass place. So don't be so devil-may-care about those crumbs.”

“Devil-may-care?” Her grin was great. “I know the owner. She won't mind.”

He laughed, while she dug in as if she hadn't eaten in days.

“Are you sure you don't want anything else? Like a chicken on a spit?”

“Be careful there, big guy. I like my cookies and milk.”

“I can tell. You're making me want one of yours.”

“Oh, no. After that chicken-on-a-spit comment?”

He smiled. It was so easy to do with Sam. Then he doled his portions out on the small amount of room she'd left him. It was fine. It was all great. Even laughing with his mouth full didn't bother him. Except that he really did have to go get some napkins.

* * *

W
HEN
M
ATT
HAD
mentioned the next time, she hadn't dreamed he meant forty minutes later. It had started after they'd wolfed down their cookie dinner. She'd snuggled up close to him, and he'd held her tight. It was soft and sweet. They reminisced in low voices for a while. Nothing that mattered. They spoke mostly with touches and smiles and little kisses that had grown into serious making out, and then he got hard and she trembled, knowing what was coming next.

This time, he did move slowly. He had each one of her legs over his shoulders, his fingers spreading her wide as his mouth did every wicked thing that could be done with a tongue.

Sam was barely holding it together. Since the sheets had been thrown off the bed again, she had to grasp the bottom sheet with both hands, or else she was afraid she'd pull his hair out.

She jerked as he sucked her clit into his mouth. It was a first, something no one had done before, and it was about to make her scream. Her body jerked again.

He released her, soothing her with long, tender licks. Moaning, he used his fingers inside her. But he didn't take her all the way.

Instead, just as the telltale shift deep and low within her told her a climax was on its way, he moved up so he could kiss her. Their gazes locked, and it was the second thing that had never happened to her before. She felt as if she was looking into his soul.

When he entered her, it was...more than perfect.

* * *

M
ATT
HAD
TO
STOP
. Just stop for a minute, look into her eyes again, get centered. Sam was his tonight. He hoped it wouldn't be only tonight. But there was no way to know for sure.

He wasn't about to complain. Maybe it was because they'd had this eye-contact thing going on that he felt so in sync with her. He wasn't sure what to make of it. He tended to avoid deep gazes fraught with meaning. Now that he was in her again, he couldn't help feeling as if their connection was far more than a simple gaze.

Sam was the first to close her eyes, to break the slender thread. She raised her hips to pull him in deeper. “You're killing me.”

He could say the same. She'd turned out to be such a remarkable woman. In every way. He was pleased to have rekindled their friendship and that might've been enough, but now that he knew what she tasted like, he was hooked. “Sorry. I was a little too excited.”

“By me?”

“Of course by you, you nutcase.” He stole a kiss before he snapped his hips. Her eyes rolled back in her head, which was a good sign. He was going to stop thinking. It wasn't doing him any favors. All he wanted was laid out before him. She panted and rolled her head on the pillow, urging him to move faster with clutching fingers on his back, his arms, wherever she could reach. He didn't even mind when she dug into a couple of tender mementos from his sparring match earlier that day.

“I'm not going to go faster,” he said.

Her eyes flashed. “Why the hell not?”

Just for that, he stopped altogether. Fine, so he was in her to the hilt, which felt unbelievably good, but she seemed intent on milking him to death. Not a bad thing...if he wanted this over in a minute flat. “Stop that,” he said, giving her his most serious frown.

She froze, her hands, her body, her muscles. “Stop what? What's wrong?”

He kissed her nose. “You were squeezing.”

Her arms hit the mattress. “Really? I wasn't trying to—”

“Not with your hands. Or your legs. Or anything on the outside.”

“What, a test? Now?”

She made him laugh again. “Fine. Your internal muscles were making it very difficult to take things slowly.”

“You're very obsessed with this slowly business.” Her frown was just as serious as his had been. “Is it because I didn't want more foreplay?”

He laughed so hard he couldn't believe he was still inside her. “I'm fine about the foreplay.”

“For a man your age?”

“For anyone over twenty-one.”

“Oh. Well, then, what's the problem?”

He shook his head and pulled out slowly. Until only his tip was inside her. Then he thrust hard.

She cried out so loudly the people down the block must have heard.

“I apologize,” he said. “About the whole slowly business. How about we take this from the top and go full throttle?”

Her inner muscles squeezed so hard he was the one crying out, “Oh, Christ.”

“I'm more motivated by tech references,” she said, her voice shaky from all the gasping, “but if you want engines revving, I can deal with that.”

“Tell you what. You take the wheel. Tell me what you—”

She squeezed again. “That thing where I had to stop us from going through the headboard was pretty nifty.”

He always had been good at following clear directions.

* * *

M
ATT
HAD
BOTH
her legs up close to her chest and he was doing just what she'd asked him to. For a gloriously long time she'd been completely present, but his finger, slowly rubbing her between them, was making it harder to concentrate. She looked at him for the hundredth time, expecting his eyes to be closed or at least looking at something other than her. But no. They locked gazes, and it happened again. In addition to all the incredible things she felt, now her heart got into the mix.

All she knew for sure was that this was a gift. A rare opportunity. A once-in-a-lifetime reunion with benefits.

“I'm almost there,” she said.

“Thank God,” he said, the raspy sound of his voice making her chest feel even tighter. “I don't think I can hold out much longer.”

“Don't. I want to watch.”

He moaned and dropped his head a little. “No, I want you to—”

He rubbed her faster.

“No fair,” she said, but she didn't really mean it. It had begun in earnest. The shivery moment on the brink, between knowing and abandoning thought. She wanted it to last forever.

“Come for me,” he whispered.

That was it. The final push. She came spectacularly. The stars on the ceiling were nothing compared to the ones behind her eyelids. The aftershocks tumbled through her, and somewhere along the way, he'd come, and she'd seen the stretched muscles of his neck once more, the look of pleasure so close to pain.

When he flopped next to her, she was still trying to regain her breath, to come down from the orgasmic high. Not that she was anxious to return to reality. “Wow,” she said. “As far as reunions with benefits go, this was the best one ever.”

His panting stopped long enough for her to turn her head. His eyebrows dipped in a frown. “You've had a lot of those?”

“What?”

“Reunions with benefits?”

“Nope. Just this one.”

He went back to looking smugly happy. “Good.”

“The whole thing was planned, right? The massages, getting all naked and oily?”

“Hoped for, not planned. I was prepared for anything.”

“Really?”

His hand found hers by groping around. “I'm sure I would've lived if you'd passed. But I'm glad you didn't.”

Sam grinned, shutting out the niggling worry that teased at the back of her mind.

“So, has there been anyone?” he asked.

“I wasn't a virgin, if that's what you mean.”

“I meant anyone special.”

“Oh. No. Not really. Well, there was Ron. He's an app-writer-turned-mogul. Lives in Silicon Valley now. We liked each other but obviously not enough to do anything about it.”

“How did you meet?”

“At a party, if you can believe that. Ron was there, and I'd been hooked on his free game. I spent a fortune on his extras, and what started as me giving him a piece of my mind turned into a fun night.”

“I'm sorry he doesn't live closer.”

She shrugged. “It's easier, to be honest. I love the job so much I don't give much thought to dating. Although seeing Logan so happy with Kensey and knowing Rick met Jenna here while staying in the apartment made me wonder if there was something in the water here. So better watch it.” She suddenly realized how that might sound and wanted to just die. “Plus,” she said quickly, “I got a real live girlfriend out of the deal. Kensey is awesome.”

“That's right. I never did see you with any girlfriends back at school.”

“Most of my classes were filled with dudes.”

He turned onto his side, resting his head on his hand. He looked really good. His hair was just a little damp, his dark eyes warm, his smile easy. “I think the word you're looking for is
geeks
.”

“Or
nerds
. Either is correct, and I'm not ashamed of it. We are a passionate bunch.”

“I'll say. I need to—” He looked toward the bathroom. After a brief surprise kiss, he stood up. All gorgeous and nude. His abs were almost a six-pack, which made her want to run her hands over them again. She'd always liked his body, and now that she had the complete picture, she liked it even more.

“Hey, speaking of parties, how would you like to come with me to the gala on Saturday? It's the annual family fund-raiser.” He paused, waiting for her to say something, probably, but she couldn't think of how to respond. “Anyway, I'd really like you to go with me, although, you know, if you can't, that's okay.”

He turned then, and while she should have been busy ogling his naked butt, she was tripping over his request. Her? Be his date for the Wilkinson Annual Gala? Where she'd have to mingle? And dress up? Was he insane?

She busied herself with pulling up the bedding, even though it wasn't cold in the room. The walls were just walls once more, pale blue ones. The ceiling, though, was still full of stars, which was its nighttime default. She'd done the same thing at her house.

After sliding under the blankets, she thought again about his invitation. Why didn't he have a date already? she wondered. His ex was a big-time model. She imagined his life was full of stunning, smart women. The kind who went to galas the way she went to Burger King.

She didn't even have anything to wear. Two days' notice? What the hell was that?

She couldn't believe she was contemplating saying maybe. Even saying yes? But damn, it was bad enough going to tech conventions, where everyone spoke the same language. Going to a charity gala with a bunch of high-society people? She imagined there would probably be an orchestra. It was so, so beyond her realm. Whenever she'd been invited to anything gala-ish, she sent a check. Simple. This? Not so much.

Matt walked out of the bathroom, looking like a movie-star athlete playboy.

“Will there be an orchestra?”

He stalled on his way back to bed. “Yep. It's a gala. There's dinner and dancing and a lot of obligatory small talk. But if you're there, at least I'd have someone I wanted to talk with. It would make the night more pleasant for me. But again, I'll understand if you don't want to go.”