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He glanced around as if he just realized the same couldn’t be said for his own place. Not that the penthouse wasn’t comfortable. It simply didn’t have any personal touches that told her who lived here. Now that she considered it, she wasn’t sure she’d seen a single family photo, all the walls covered with what she was sure was very expensive artwork.
Not that she dwelled on that thought for long. Matt tugged her farther into his bathroom, pulling off her T-shirt, bra, shorts, and panties with an efficiency that proved just how many times he’d undressed her the past couple of weeks.
Liza gazed longingly at the huge jacuzzi tub in one corner of the bathroom. She wasn’t sure what to make of the candles that lined two edges of it, creating what looked like quite the romantic space to her. He said he’d never brought a woman back here, but…
“I never use the candles,” Matt pointed out, aware of her focus. “I paid an interior designer to decorate the place for me and she put a few candles there. I have a maid who comes in daily, and she asked several years ago if she could decorate the house according to the seasons. I said it would be fine, and since then, she changes the candles, throw pillows, bathroom towels, and a bunch of other stuff to represent whatever the time of year is. This year, she went a little overboard, putting a bunch of small pumpkins all over the place in October.”
He wasn’t lying. The candles—cinnamon-scented—hadn’t been burned, then she recalled the almost-whimsical snowflake throw pillows on the couch in his living room that didn’t seem like something a guy would pick out.
“How long have you lived here?”
“Twelve years.” Matt crossed the room to turn on the water in his large shower. He had five—FIVE—showerheads, one coming from each of the opposite walls, a rain-shower-style one in the center, and two handhelds.
“Twelve years,” she repeated as she looked around the bathroom, searching for something—anything—personal that might offer some insight into Matt’s life. Apart from his toiletries—all high end—there was nothing, especially now that she knew the maid had chosen the scented candles, plush navy-blue towels, and snowflake vase with a realistic-looking fake plant in the corner of the vanity.
Matt undressed, stepping under the steamy jets before reaching out for her to join him. She followed him in, groaning in relief as the hot water beat down on her sore muscles. It had been a long time since she’d played basketball at such an extreme pace. Her one-on-one games against Devonte were more trash talk than actual exertion. Tonight, she’d been in it to win it, and her thirty-year-old body was reminding her that she wasn’t in high school anymore. It was also reminding her that jogging a couple days a week wasn’t enough exercise and she should probably try to be more consistent.
Then she grinned, deciding her nightly workouts with Matt surely must count as cardio.
“What’s that smile about?” Matt asked, twisting her until their bare chests were touching, both of them standing beneath the rain showerhead.
“I’m happy.” Everything about him made her smile, made her hopeful…made her, yeah, happy.
Matt gave her a quick kiss. “I’m glad. I only ever want you to be happy.”
He started to pull away, but she grasped his waist, pulling him tighter against her, reaching on tiptoe to initiate another, better, longer kiss. His beard tickled her lips and the skin around her mouth, but that wasn’t a complaint. Some nights, as they lay together in the wee hours, she couldn’t resist running her fingers over the scratchy hair. Matt had offered to shave if it bothered her, but she’d put the kibosh on that idea instantly.
Because his beard?
So fucking hot.
Their kiss lingered, slowly becoming hungrier, more passionate. Liza knew the second the tide had turned, and this shower wasn’t about getting clean. Nope. It was going to be a very, very dirty one.
Matt broke the kiss, his eyes dark with a need she recognized and responded to.
This wasn’t Matt, the lover. This was Matt, the conqueror.
Pushing Liza backward, he moved her until she was pressed against the wall, water from the showerhead above spraying over her, making her feel like she was standing behind a waterfall.
Matt reached for the handheld, pointing the stream at her as he changed the setting from the normal spray to a powerful pulsating one. He directed the bursts of water at her left nipple, the steady thrum drawing it taut. Then he repeated the action on her right nipple.
Liza placed her hands on his shoulders, but Matt shook his head, his expression suddenly strict.
“No touching, kitten. Only surrendering. Put your hands next to your head against that wall.”
Liza’s hands were halfway to the position he demanded before she could consider her actions. There was something about that tone of his that made her want to please him. During the day, when they were apart, she’d sometimes imagine disobeying him, just to see how he would respond.
Those thoughts were easy to entertain when they weren’t together. Now, with all six feet two muscular inches of him standing just a few inches away from her, she was helpless to deny him anything. She didn’t know what this power he possessed was, but she didn’t mind being in his thrall.
Not. At. All.
With her hands pressed against the tile by her head, Liza’s eyes closed as Matt continued to torment her breasts with pulsating water. They flew open when the jet traveled lower. God help her.
Matt wasn’t looking at her. Instead, all his attention was focused on the jet. Using his free hand, Matt parted the lips of her labia and directed the pulse on her clit.
Liza cried out and started to twist her hips away from the overstimulating sensation.
“Don’t move!” Matt said sharply. Liza stopped in an instant. So quickly, in fact, Matt didn’t even have time to threaten her with punishment if she failed to comply.
