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“Mine, Liza.”
What the hell was it with that word? One second, Liza was sure she’d never find the strength to come again; the next, she was diving over that goddamn cliff with Matt. Orgasm number four hurt, it felt so fucking good.
He gripped her hip tight enough to bruise, but that pain, just like the stinging of her scalp, only served to make her hotter, hornier.
Matt called out her name as he came inside her. He was the first man she’d ever let take her without a condom, and her ticking clock was waking up and taking notice. Liza had always wanted kids—plural—hoping for a big family like the one she’d grown up in. So while thirty-one might seem too early to start hearing that tick-tick-tick, she decided that wasn’t true for a woman longing for three or four babies.
Matt would probably have a coronary if he knew where her thoughts had traveled. Gently, he released her hair while keeping a supportive hand on her hip as he kissed the side of her head.
“Okay?”
“So okay,” she breathed.
Silence fell as they reveled in the afterglow, each taking turns washing the other. Shutting off the water, they dried themselves with his oversized, super-soft towels, then Matt reached out for her, hugging her in a way that told her this thing between them wasn’t just sex.
Matt’s embrace was one of genuine fondness, not foreplay.
“Dinner?” he asked. “We can order in or rummage around in my kitchen for something to fix.”
She and Matt had eaten far too much takeout this week, sex edging out cooking every time. “Rummage,” she said, warming up to the idea of doing something domestic like making a meal with him. Besides, she was curious to see if his kitchen was just as Matt-less as his bedroom and bathroom.
Matt loaned her a T-shirt, the soft cotton falling to mid-thigh, but he’d refused her request for a pair of boxers, telling her she was lucky he was letting her wear the shirt. She didn’t kick up much of a fuss because he’d donned the boxers—and nothing else. His bare chest was drool-worthy.
In the kitchen, they found the makings for BLTs and Matt pulled out a can of tomato soup to add to the meal. The kitchen—devoid of any personal effects—appeared to be yet another place where she and Matt worked well together, each dividing the duties, creating the simple fare that they ate side by side sitting at the bar that separated his kitchen and dining room.
After dinner, Matt gave her a proper tour, which left her equal parts impressed and sad. His penthouse was absolutely gorgeous. However, the only room that gave the barest hint that Matt owned the penthouse was his home office, which made sense. The man was a true workaholic, so Liza suspected with the exception of him sleeping in his bedroom, this was the room he spent the most time in when he was home.
In his office, she discovered several framed pictures of Gage and Penny on their wedding day, and another of Conor standing in front of his restaurant, Chives, at its Grand Opening, and another of his youngest brother holding a trophy after winning what looked like a golf tournament. There were no photos of his parents, and Matt wasn’t in any of the photographs either. It was like he purposely kept himself apart from his family. There, but only on the outer fringes.
Whenever Matt talked about his brothers, his fondness shone through, though he didn’t seem to spend much time with either of them outside of work. Meanwhile, Liza wasn’t sure she’d ever gone a full week without seeing her parents and brothers, or at the very least, talking to them on the phone. Her family had a big text thread that saw action pretty much every day, someone sharing a funny meme, sending a “current situation” picture if they were somewhere great, or even just to brag about getting the Wordle in two guesses.
Once the tour was over, Liza couldn’t manage to stifle a yawn. She was still a bit jet-lagged, due to having to return to work the day after getting back from Hawaii. Between fighting to return to East Coast time and staying up too late, thanks to sexy nights with Matt, it was a wonder she could keep her eyes open at all.
“Come on. Time to tuck you in, kitten.” Matt led her up the stairs to his bedroom.
“Just me?”
Matt pulled back the duvet and pushed his boxers off. “Nope. I think we both need a good night’s sleep. We’ve been burning the candle at both ends this past week.”
Liza crawled onto the bed, moaning in delight over his soft mattress. “I love this bed,” she said, as she sank into it, every muscle in her body relaxing.
“Good,” Matt whispered, as he slid in next to her. “Because you’re going to spend a lot of time in it.”
She smiled, then the two of them kissed. Unlike their previous kisses, this one was short and sweet.
“Good night, Ms. Moretti,” Matt said as he wrapped her up in his arms, his chest her pillow.
“Good night, Mr. Russo,” she said, making a silent wish to spend every night for the rest of her life sleeping next to him.
Chapter Fifteen
Matt leaned back in his chair as he looked out of the window of his office. It was a sunny day, the sky blue without a single cloud, the temperature unseasonably warm for early March. It was the kind of end-of-winter day that had some people longing for snow and others ready for spring.
Matt had never been the type to give a shit what the weather was because the temperature was always the same in his office. Hot or cold, all the days drifted along in the same relentless, monotonous way.
Today, however, he was straddling the line between the seasons, imagining he and Liza taking walks in the snow, getting into snowball fights, curling up in front of a roaring fire. And as much as he wanted to do all of that, he wouldn’t mind seeing her in less clothing, sitting next to him on a blanket while they had a picnic in the park or standing on the deck of his yacht, sipping cocktails and breathing in the salty sea air.
After a lifetime of nondescript seasons—most spent right here at this damn desk—he was suddenly envisioning countless days filled with new adventures and Liza.
