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“Go downstairs,” Matt ordered, but his gaze remained locked on Gina’s. Physically she seemed all right, but her eyes … Matt didn’t like the sadness that lurked there. A sadness that had been caused by her best friend in the world.
The best friend had to go. If necessary, Matt would make him. Matt thought he might enjoy it.
For an instant, McCord hesitated, and Matt thought, Please take a swing at me. Just one. Then the man cursed and stomped out the door. Matt reached over and shut it behind him, flicking the lock for good measure.
Gina stared at the closed door, confusion pushing the sadness from her eyes. “That was so unlike him.”
Matt crossed the room, setting his hands on her shoulders, frowning when she tensed. “What did he do?”
She stepped out of Matt’s reach, and his frown intensified. He didn’t like this at all. “If he hurt you—”
“No,” she said, but she rubbed at her arms as if she were freezing. “I think I hurt him.”
“He looked fine to me.”
Her lips curved, but she was still so sad. “All he wants is for me to love him, Teo, and I can’t, because—” She broke off, biting her lip, then turning to stare through the window at the setting moon. “It’ll be dawn soon.”
“Why can’t you love him, Gina?”
“I do love him,” she insisted, and Matt’s heart stuttered. He’d been hoping— “But not the way he needs me to. When he kissed me, I—”
“He kissed you?” Fury blasted through Matt, stronger and sharper than any he’d ever known. She was his. She always would be.
“Yeah,” she said, and faced him. “It was awful.”
“Really?” He lifted a brow. “Why’s that?”
“Because he wasn’t you.”
This time when Matt reached for her, she came into his arms, burrowing against his chest with a sigh.
“I know we’ve got problems—big, toothy, deadly problems—and I want to hear what you found out from whoever Isaac called. But right now…” She leaned back. “Kiss me. Touch me. Make me forget that I probably just lost Jase forever.”
Matt didn’t think McCord would be so foolish as to throw away any part of Gina he could get—her friendship was better than nothing—but he also hadn’t thought the man would be so stupid as to force a kiss on her.
Matt had to agree. That wasn’t like McCord. Of course everyone snapped eventually. And if Matt had been in love with Gina and she hadn’t loved him back …
Matt set his hand against her cheek. He was in love with Gina. The thought of her kissing McCord made him crazy. The sadness in her eyes made him want to move heaven and earth to erase it.
Matt framed her face with his palms and lowered his lips to hers.
Her taste was woman and warmth; her mouth opened, welcoming him in. She lifted her arms, tangling her fingers in his hair, pressing her unbound breasts to his chest. He went hard instantly.
Memories flickered. The two of them in the tent, their first time, which had been more about lust than love. However, those memories enhanced; they didn’t distract. Because of them he knew that scraping his thumb just so, along the lip of her collarbone, would make her breath catch.
When he palmed her hips he remembered how he’d palmed them that night as he’d slid into her, filling her, stretching her, making her come. She’d been so tight, so hot.
Hell. If he didn’t stop thinking about that night, her on her knees, her breasts swaying, her—
Matt cursed and lifted his mouth before he lost control and tossed her onto the bed, tore off her clothes, and did her exactly the same way all over again.
“Shh,” she whispered, mouth searching for more, hands in his hair insistent, bringing his lips gradually, achingly, back to hers.
“Gina,” he protested. “I want to be slow, gentle. I want you to know how I feel.”
“I already know how you feel.” She cupped him through his pants—when had one of her hands left his hair?—then ran a fingernail along his sac. He thought he might faint or, at the least, disgrace himself right then and there.
He grabbed her wrist, meaning to pull her away, but when she licked the line of his lips with just the tip of her tongue he had a change of heart. Instead, he laid his hand over hers and pulled it closer. There was something strangely erotic about using her hand to touch himself. From the curve of her mouth and the enthusiasm of the continued touching, she agreed.
