Page 132 of Matchmaking On The Menu

The newspaper. The party. Peyton’s confession. Luke very clearly falling in love with a woman who probably owns decorative hand towels. Everything feels bright and surreal and weirdly perfect. And underneath all of it is this overwhelming sense of freedom. Like somewhere along the way I stopped apologizing for wanting things.

I back him toward the bedroom this time, laughing when his eyebrows lift slightly in surprise.

“Oh?” he murmurs.

“Don’t make it weird.”

“You are literally pushing me toward a bed.”

“Okay, yes, fair point.”

He laughs properly then, warm and unrestrained, and God, I love that sound. The realization slips into my chest so naturally it doesn’t even scare me. I love this. I love him.

The bedroom light spills softly across the floor as we stumble inside, still kissing, still smiling too much to manage anything smoothly. At one point, he tries to pull his shirt over his head and almost gets stuck in it.

I laugh so hard, I’m out of breath.

“This is the best day of my life,” I announce.

He finally frees himself. “Good. I was aiming for top five.”

“Ambitious.”

“I believe in myself.”

I pull him back to me before he can say anything else, and the laughter softens into something warmer as he settles between my knees, his forehead resting briefly against mine.

I just look at him. Really look at him. At the man who stumbled into my life and somehow helped me become more myself than I’ve ever been. Emotion clogs my throat.

His eyes soften immediately. “Hey. What happened?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Good nothing.”

His hand slides along my jaw gently and I swallow hard.

“I just…” I let out a shaky laugh. “I’m really happy.”

The words feel bigger than they should. Because I haven’t been able to say that honestly in a very long time. Something shifts in his expression at that. Softer still, deeper than I can put into words.

Then he kisses me again, slower this time, and I melt into it completely. Into the way his tongue breaches my lips and dances with mine. He undresses me with infinitely more grace than he did himself, his fingers teasing my skin as they remove any barrier between us.

Fire licks at my skin as he peppers kisses down my neck to my breast, capturing a nipple between his teeth and tugging gently.

I hiss in a breath, which is quickly followed by a moan. My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer still in a silent plea for more. He bends and scoops me up, carrying me to the bed. Every movement drags me against him in the most distracting way possible. I’m sure I’m leaving my juices all over his abs. He isn’t complaining, though.

He lays me on the bed and crawls over my body. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“You say that all the time,” I tease.

“Aren’t journalists all about seeking out the truth?”

“Yeah?” My brain feels pleasantly useless right now.

“So believe me.”

He covers my mouth with his. The kiss that was sweet earlier is now rushed and uncoordinated and wild. I writhe beneath his hard body. “Teddy, I want you.”

He groans into my mouth as he thrusts into me. I stretch around his hard length, adapting to his size before raising my hips, signaling that I want more while he devours my mouth.