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Liza fought to steady her breathing, not quite finished fighting with herself. Maybe there was still a chance she would come to her senses.
Part of her expected Matt to join her at the window, so when she heard him walking around the room, she turned to look.
He took off his tuxedo jacket, hanging it over the back of a chair, and it occurred to her that she’d never seen him without a jacket. Matt was the epitome of corporate America fashion. As such, he was always in a suit. Always. Part of her wouldn’t be surprised to discover he slept in his bespoke three-piece suits.
Without the jacket, she had a much better view of his build. She’d clearly given his suits too much credit for his extra bulk, his arms large and muscular. She licked her lips, wishing he’d go one step further and roll up his sleeves.
Shit.
She really had gone too long without a man if she was this ridiculously turned on by the sight of Matt without his jacket.
He caught her staring—she hoped she wasn’t drooling—but he didn’t call her out, didn’t smirk, but his expression was too knowing, too amused for her pride.
So she narrowed her eyes and turned away…briefly. Until Matt headed to the kitchen.
Because, of course, the penthouse suite had a full kitchen that, sadly, rivaled the one in her small apartment. Matt grabbed a corkscrew from the counter, then he held up a bottle of red, looking for her approval.
She nodded and he uncorked it, pouring two glasses. The whole scene felt too familiar and almost domestic.
She accepted when he handed her a glass, tapping his against it. “To a job well done.”
“Thank you.” Liza took a sip, making a mental note not to consume too much. She’d indulged in at least three glasses of champagne over the course of the night, and while she was far from intoxicated, she needed her wits about her if she was going to maneuver her way safely through this.
Matt gestured toward the couch, and she accepted the invitation to sit, placing her glass on the end table so she could reach down to pull off her shoes with a relieved groan.
He watched her curiously, then, to her surprise, he toed off his own shoes.
“Too long in heels,” she explained. “Part of why plan B was the hot bath. My feet are killing me.” She wore thigh-high stockings, and she wished she could strip them off as well.
Matt put his glass on the coffee table before sitting down next to her on the couch. Then to her surprise, he lifted her feet onto his lap, his thumbs pressing against the soles.
“Relax,” he urged her, twisting his body so that his back was against the arm of the couch. She assumed the same position, reclining against the opposite cushioned arm. They were mirror images, facing each other. He leaned one leg against the back of the couch, bent at the knee, while the other remained on the floor. He held her feet in his hands between his outstretched thighs. It felt strangely decadent, sitting here while Matt gave her a foot massage.
He dug his thumbs in deeper, hitting a particularly sore spot, and Liza moaned. It felt like bliss, like heaven. Too much more of this and she thought she might actually have an orgasm.
“That feels…amazing.”
“You need more sensible shoes.” He cupped her feet with his large hands, working absolute magic.
She laughed. “But those shoes were so perfect with my new red dress.”
She hadn’t meant to draw his attention to her outfit, but now that she had, she realized the slit in the skirt had fallen open, revealing the long expanse of her thigh.
Liza started to pull the material together.
“Leave it,” Matt demanded, and damn if she didn’t find herself obeying, dropping the skirt. It fell open once more, revealing most of her right leg, riding high enough to show him the top of one of her thigh-high stockings.
He stared at her leg, but she didn’t call him on it, though she did make sure to flash him that same knowing look he’d given her when she checked him out without his jacket.
They remained there on the couch, in quiet solitude for several minutes. His massage was so soothing, and she was so exhausted, she might have expected to fall asleep. Instead, his touch had the opposite effect, waking up all the party places in her body.
At one point, he lowered his grip and one of her heels brushed against the crotch of his pants. She felt the bulge of his erection. Her eyes flew up to his, and she realized his actions had been intentional. He wanted her to feel what she was doing to him.
Slowly, she slipped her feet from his lap, shifting closer, wanting to offer him some measure of comfort as well. Reaching out, she untied his bow tie, slipping it from the collar before unbuttoning the top two buttons on his shirt. Matt watched as she worked, making no move to stop her.
She was tempted to close the distance between them and resume the kiss they’d started in the elevator, but there was still a part of her trying to fight this, to resist him and this unexplainable pull.
It was that determination that had her pushing away, reclaiming her side of the couch, tucking her bare feet beneath her.
