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So he flicked the clasp on her bra and watched her breasts tumble free while he fucked her into oblivion.
“Ma…” she said, but that was as far as she got before she moaned lower and she reached for him as he followed her, losing himself in the feeling of his balls drawing up and the hard coil of need low in his belly finally expanding and loosening all at once.
“Fuuuck,” he said, as he came, and he grasped her breasts, kneading them as the heady feeling of release washed over him until he collapsed on top of her chest.
They lay there for a long moment, not speaking. Then, at last, Shay whispered, “Matt?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s the belt for?”
He smiled. “Round two.”
Chapter 8
Bzzzz. Bzzzz.
The muffled vibration hummed against her pillow, and Shay blinked awake only to have the light of her smartphone blind her.
Shit. What time was it?
She slid her thumb across the screen, all too aware of Matt's low, steady snores on the other side of her. The heat of his chest against her back. His hard erection pressed to her ass.
She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and then smiled, because no matter how much panic and turmoil swirled in her stomach at the idea that she'd slept with him—a client, her best friend's brother—again, it was nothing compared to the joy she felt at realizing that he'd stayed. He hadn't slinked off in the middle of the night. He'd wanted to be here. With her.
Silently, she opened her eyes again and let them adjust to the light of her screen. Then she scanned the too-tiny script.
Shay,
Just wanted to let you know, we're in final negotiations with the Matt Archer case. The reporters are like vultures over here, but I'll try to send word before they pluck the story.
Lou.
She glanced at the time. Six a.m. Then, she read the message over again.
She knew it was nothing more than a formality. This way, if the news broke about Matt's move from the minors to the majors before she was notified, Lou would have something to fall back on. A classic case of CYOA: Cover Your Own Ass.
Still, her heart tightened at the idea of Matt finally making it.
Once he was in the majors again, he could have everything he ever wanted again. Everything except...
She rolled over and looked at him, studied the way he smiled vaguely up at the ceiling while he slept. He was cute this way, docile. And it was only fitting that even in his sleep, Matt Archer seemed to be laughing.
This was a good man. He was kind and gentle and fun. He deserved the best in life.
And most of all, he deserved to know the truth. No matter who it came from.
Slowly, she gripped his shoulder and then shook gently, once, twice, until he let out a long groan. "Why?"
&nbs
p; "Get up, lazybones," she said.
"Lazybones?" He crooked his eyebrow, and already his bleary eyes began to fill with their usual mirth. "Seriously?"
"Well, do you have another word for you?"
"I do"—he gripped her waist—"but I'd rather show you how I'm feeling."
