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Cash worked wonders. Or at least the ability to complete a wire transfer.
Matt tossed the few things he’d removed from his suitcase back in. He couldn’t wait to tell Gina.
He’d just set his glasses on the bedside table, then yanked off the tie and scratchy dress shirt he’d bought the day before when someone tapped on the door. Figuring it was a bellman—even though he hadn’t requested one, he had called to inform the desk he was checking out—Matt glanced up, saw he’d left the door ajar in his hurry to return to the ranch, and called, “Come in.”
It wasn’t the bellman.
At first he wasn’t sure who the woman was. She flew across the room so fast Matt, without his glasses, only got the impression of tall, curvy, lots of legs, and miles of flowing hair. Then he caught the scent of the forest an instant before he caught her.
His mind, full of those legs and that hair and the smell of her, stuttered once before it came to the conclusion that she’d found out about him saving her ranch and come to thank him. Personally, so to speak. So he wrapped his arms more tightly around her.
Their chests bumped, their hips, too. She murmured his name as they both lost their balance; then one of her obscenely high heels came down on his foot. Next thing Matt knew they fell onto the bed.
He landed on top. They bounced once. All the air in her lungs flew out, blowing back his hair. Her dress had bunched up; his palm now cupped her thigh. Her skin was so damn soft he couldn’t help but stroke.
Her lips parted; her eyes darkened to smoke, and then he was kissing her, tasting her, wanting her as he had kissed and tasted and wanted her not so long before. But this time no one would interrupt and tell her his secrets. She knew his secrets—all of them—and still she had come to him here.
His hair made a curtain, shrouding them from the world. She reached up, her fingers tangling in the strands, hard; it kind of hurt.
He tugged on her lip with his teeth, and her grip relaxed, turning from torture to temptation. She pulled him closer, opened her mouth wider on a sigh, and he caught the flavor of … lipstick?
How strange. He wasn’t a fan. Then again, he’d eat a tube if it meant he could kiss her some more.
Her tongue met his, sliding along the underside, then tickling the edge. Her hands had moved from his hair to his neck, her fingers cupping the back of his head, urging him on.
He discovered his fingers were cupping her ass, shifting her so that they fit together just …
There, that felt better. Except they were wearing far too many clothes, or at least she was. He spared a moment to be glad his shirt had scratched and he’d yanked it off, because now her palms were on his chest, stroking him as he’d just stroked her.
It had been so long since anyone had touched him. Or at least anyone he’d wanted as badly as he wanted Gina.
His hand had just lifted to the tricky fastening at the front of her dress when someone cleared their throat. Matt ignored the sound. It couldn’t be real. He and Gina were in his room. On his bed.
Alone.
Someone coughed—loudly—and they didn’t stop. Whoever was out in the hall sounded like they’d just swallowed a whale down the wrong pipe and they were going to die if the Heimlich wasn’t performed immediately.
Matt’s concentration was shot. He lifted his head, then blinked at the slightly fuzzy assortment of hotel personnel and guests assembled just outside his open doorway. How could he have forgotten that he’d told Gina to come in? Neither one of them had shut the door. They’d been a little preoccupied.
With the fingertips of one hand brushing the swell of a breast and the palm of the other cupped around a butt cheek, not to mention his erection cradled between her legs, her thumbs poised over his almost painfully perky nipples, and his lips no doubt as swollen and wet as hers, Matt understood why none of the passersby had been able to pass by.
Who’d want to miss this show?
“Get off me.” Gina’s voice sounded as if it were coming from between a set of tightly clenched teeth.
He glanced down. Huh. It was.
No doubt she was embarrassed. She was the one with her dress rucked up to her hips and her breasts almost bursting from what he could see now was a very un-Gina-like bodice. What was going on?
Matt needed to be a gentleman. If he could only remember how.
With all the dignity he could muster Matt got up, crossed the floor, and slammed the door. Then he leaned his forehead against it while he tried to tame an erection the size of Tokyo—one that continued to thunder with a pulse that reminded him uncomfortably of Godzilla’s footsteps.
The bed creaked. Clothes rustled as Gina put herself back together. Matt waited for her to cross the room, maybe put her hand on his shoulder, even give him another kiss, and murmur, Thanks.
Perhaps he didn’t need to tame that erection after all.
He turned, and his shirt hit him in the face.
