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Tonight felt different. Probably because they were headed home after their too-brief break from reality.
“Matt,” Liza started. “We haven’t talked about what comes next.”
They hadn’t. Matt had considered starting the conversation last night at dinner, but he wasn’t ready to leave the bubble of bliss they’d been bouncing merrily along in. Talking about what came next meant adding in a lot of variables, like work, family, friends, his place or her place, conflicting schedules, and God only knew what else. In Hawaii, it was just them in a shared bed with nothing but time to spend wrapped around each other.
“We haven’t.” Matt noticed Liza’s stiff posture, the unease in her eyes. She’d been comfortable with him since the night of the rehearsal dinner, so he hated seeing doubt creep back in. However, she didn’t let her nervousness stop her from putting herself out there, from asking the hard questions.
“I’d like to keep seeing you. Dating you. Just you,” she clarified. The wariness in her tone proved she knew just how big a risk she was taking. Because before this, Matt hadn’t done committed relationships. Hell, he hadn’t done relationships at all.
This was the fork in the road Matt had been avoiding last night. Not because he didn’t know which direction he wanted to go, but because—no matter how hard he pretended otherwise—he was making a bad decision. One that would most likely lead to heartbreak for both of them.
Regardless, he dove into the mistake headfirst. “I’d like that too, Liza.”
Liza blinked several times, and he got the sense she was wondering if she’d misheard him. “You would?”
Matt pushed away from the door, brushing her chestnut-brown hair over her shoulder, cupping her cheek affectionately. “I would. Stand up.”
Liza rose. Matt didn’t shift back, not even an inch, so their chests were pressed together, her face still lifted to his.
Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her forehead, her closed eyes, the tip of her upturned nose, before claiming her lush lips.
Liza’s lips parted, their tongues entering the dance. They’d kissed countless times over the course of the past couple of days, but every single one had felt different, unique. He could spend a lifetime studying her lips and still find something new.
For several minutes, they simply stood there, locked together, as they let the weight, the importance, the specialness of the commitment they’d just made to each other sink in.
Liza was the first to break away, to suck in a deep breath. The stunning smile she gave him had his heart skipping a few beats.
After that, they moved together, slowly undressing each other as they continued stealing kiss after glorious kiss.
Once naked, Matt drew back the duvet and they climbed into bed together. So far, their sexual encounters had been explorations, a give-and-take as they learned each other’s turn-ons.
There was none of that now.
This wasn’t about fantasies or kinks. It wasn’t about dominating or submitting. It was about Matt and Liza, on the verge of something big. He should be afraid. God, he should be terrified, but as he climbed over her body, the two of them connected from chest to feet, Matt was overwhelmed by a sense of rightness.
He hadn’t fit in his own skin since he was thirteen years old and his father had ripped him from his happy childhood, from his brothers—who’d been his best friends—and from his mother.
“Matt,” Liza whispered, drawing the back of her fingers over his cheek, his bearded jaw.
“Hmm?” Matt hummed, giving her a quick kiss.
“Make love to me.”
Four small words, but when put together like that…oh so powerful. Matt had never made love to a woman in his life, never wanted to.
But now that she’d made the request, he couldn’t imagine doing anything else with her…for the rest of his life.
If only.
Liza’s legs parted in invitation and Matt slid inside. She was wet and warm, and he sank in deep, his lips still locked to hers. He set an easy motion, his thrusts gentle but steady as Liza wrapped her legs around his waist, tilting her hips in that way that allowed him to sink in even farther.
The only sounds in the room—besides the white noise of the jet’s engines—was their heavy breathing, the slight smacking of their kisses, and their matching groans of pure delight.
Matt felt the telltale fluttering of her pussy walls that told him she was close. Ordinarily, he would wring a couple orgasms out of her before coming, but tonight, he wanted to be right there with her.
“Come with me, Liza,” he said, though the words were unnecessary. He’d become attuned to her tells, her soft panting breaths, the cute little moans, the flush of her cheeks, her tightly closed eyes.
Reaching between them, he stroked her clit—her self-destruct button, as she referred to it—then he increased his speed, his force.
