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Fireworks went off in her head, in her chest, her whole body, at his mouth moving over hers, at his hands sliding over her, tugging her blouse from her skirt and letting in a swoosh of welcome cool air across her sensitized flesh.
“I can’t believe you’re here, that we’re doing this,” she murmured as he traced kisses along her neck, her collarbone. She dug her fingers into his hair.
“You aren’t changing your mind, are you?” he breathed against the indentation at her throat, his tongue darting out to dip into the sensitive flesh.
Natalie quivered.
“No. Never.” She arched against his mouth. “This is what I have played over and over in my mind today.”
What she needed. Crazy, but she did need him—this virtual stranger who was setting her body on fire. His touch, his kiss, his full attention. His body grinding against hers, hard, lean, thrilling.
“Tell me what you want, Natalie,” he coaxed, pushing her blouse off her shoulders and letting the silky material pool around her red heels, revealing her lacy white camisole and matching bra beneath. Cupping her bottom, he bent, kissing the valley between her breasts. “Tell me what you’ve been imagining us doing.”
“That,” she breathed, running her fingers into his thick, inky dark hair and holding him to her breast. “I like that.”
That. That. That, her body screamed.
“Me, too.” Pushing aside her camisole and bra, he took a puckered nipple into his mouth and gave a gentle tug.
Natalie almost died. Or exploded. Or imploded. Or all of the above, so many sensations shot through her electrified body. His hands held urgency as he continued to caress her, his mouth claiming everything in its passionate path. Within breathless minutes he pushed her skirt up her hips to bunch at her waist so he could slide his hands inside her panties to cup her bottom once more.
Yeah, she wanted that, too.
His hands were hot on her skin, electrifying. She wanted him. Desperately. She kissed him with that desperation. Touched him with that desperation. Moved her body against his with that desperation. Her fingers found their way to his waist, to where he strained against his dress pants’ zipper. After a moment’s fumbling, she had his pants to where she could touch him. She explored what she craved to feel deep inside.
“Natalie,” he groaned. Or maybe he’d growled.
Either way, she’d never heard her name said as Matthew had just said it. Had never felt the power filling her at how he responded to her slightest touch.
“I like this, too,” she whispered close to his ear, in awe at how free she felt to touch him, at how uninhibited to give and take as she pleased. She’d never felt this freedom with Jonathan. She had always followed his lead rather than blazing a path of her own. “I like touching you and feeling your reaction and knowing I did that.”
He mumbled something against her throat, where his mouth was wreaking havoc on her nervous system, but she didn’t catch his words. They didn’t matter. His body was telling her all she needed to know.
“I like what you’re doing,” she continued, barely recognizing her voice, but further emboldened by the fervor of his kisses. “I like the way you’re touching me, as if you need to touch me.” She’d never felt more desirable than in this moment, than the way his touch made her feel. He made her feel beautiful, desirable, wanton even. Unlike anything she’d ever felt or would possibly ever feel again. The knowledge promised ecstasy.
“That makes two of us,” he assured her, between more ardent kisses.
“I like the way you’re looking at me,” she continued, her voice breathy, her fingers tightening around him. “As if you want to put every detail of me to memory.”
* * *
Matthew didn’t have to put every detail of Natalie to memory.
She was already there.
Every delectable inch of her.
He had no doubt he’d never forget what was happening. She was timeless, beautiful. Unforgettable.
Barely hanging on to his sanity, he took her hands into his, kissed her fingertips, then pressed against her. Eyes locked with his, her fingers moved to his shoulders, kneaded deep into his muscles as he grazed her lips with his teeth.
“More,” she breathed, arching into his touch. “I want more.”
Completely caught between him and the wall, she shifted her hips against him, pressing her upper body against the wall to give added pressure to the sensuous contact between their bodies.
A long leg slid up his, wrapped itself around his waist, pressing her pelvis more fully against where he throbbed.
Heaven help him.
