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Well, I’ve been dancing around it. He always seemed mostly oblivious to me.
Maybe he isn’t. If his current behavior is any indication, he definitely isn’t.
“I’m stopping me. Or at least I should be,” he says, resting both of his hands on my waist as he steps so close, our legs tangle, our chests brush. I hold my breath, waiting for what I know will be a totally disappointing conclusion to our conversation.
He doesn’t say anything at all. Instead, he lowers his head, his mouth settling on mine, softly. Sweetly. His kiss obliterates everything, all of my thoughts and worries and concerns, until I’m consumed by the sound and the feel and the smell of him. He surrounds me, overwhelms me, and when he thrusts his tongue deep inside my mouth, I’m lost.
And only Matt will be able to find me.
When he breaks the kiss to slide his mouth down the length of my neck, his low, sexy growl makes my insides flutter. He sounds like he’s barely keeping himself in control, and I reach out, wrapping my arms around his neck, burying my fingers in his hair like I enjoy doing. His hair is so thick and soft, the strands cling to my fingers, and I feel like I can’t get enough of him.
The way he’s kissing me makes me think he can’t get enough of me either. His mouth returns to mine and devours me. The kiss so hot, wet, and deep, I feel completely and utterly consumed.
I love it. I want more. I cling to him, mold my body to his and wish he would slip his hands beneath my dress. I want to witness his discovery that I’m wearing no bra, no panties, no nothing beneath it.
I have a feeling he’d be rather pleased with that revelation.
“Jesus, Bryn, you feel good,” he says when we come up for air. His hand is roaming, rising from where it rests on my waist to slide up, over my ribcage to rest just beneath my breast. He pulls away slightly, catching sight of my nipples pebbling painfully beneath the silky fabric of my dress, and he lifts his other hand. Traces the deep V neckline of my dress with his fingertip, his touch featherlight as he brushes my skin, causing skitters to rush across it.
Sighing, I close my eyes, savoring his bold yet delicate touch. He slips his hand beneath the fabric, covering my right breast with just his fingers and makes a rough sound of pleasure at finding me braless.
His calloused fingers play with my nipple, driving me crazy with need, and I drop my arms from around his neck, arching into his touch as I keep my eyes tightly closed. I’m almost afraid to look at him for fear he’ll abandon me once he realizes what we’re doing.
And then he’s kissing me yet again, his hands moving up to cup my face, holding me still. I want to melt. His thumbs brush across my cheeks, his touch gentle, the way he cups my face almost as if he... cherishes me. No man has ever held me like this, kissed me like this before. I wrap my arms around his waist, clinging to him, whispering against his lips please don’t stop, don’t ever stop, when he stills. Lifts his head from mine and cocks his ear toward the window.
“Did you hear that?” he asks, his voice hushed.
Beyond the roaring in my ears brought on by his skilled mouth and my own pleading words, I can’t really hear anything. Oh, there’s the partygoers outside, their chatter a low hum in the quiet confines of his office. A hint of music coming from the hired band but that’s it.
“I swear I heard someone yell my name.” He kisses the tip of my nose, one cheek, then the other. “Sounded like my father,” he whispers.
“Really?” He kisses my forehead, my temple, my ear, my chin. Sweet, soft little kisses that make my lips tingle in anticipation. “I didn’t realize he was coming.”
“I forgot to tell you about it.” He kisses me this time, his lips lingering on mine for long, delicious moments before he finally breaks it. “I didn’t think he’d show up. More like I hoped he wouldn’t show up.”
I’m surprised that he would even invite him. Last I heard from Ivy, their relationship was strained at best.
And then I hear it. A loud, rough bellow:
“Matthew DeLuca, where the fuck are you, son?”
Matt hears it too—who couldn’t? His entire body goes still and he pulls away, leaving me. I’m immediately cold without him near.
“That’s him,” he says grimly. “I should go.”
“I’ll go with you. Do you want my help?” I reach for him, but he’s still backing up, pulling completely away from my grip.
He’s withdrawing into himself right before me, and I hate seeing it, though I can’t blame him.
He needs to go subdue his father and quick.
“Just mingle and make sure everyone’s having a good time. I need to go and make sure he doesn’t make an ass out of himself and me and ruin everything,” Matt mutters before he turns tail and flees.
I slump against the wall, my heart thumping wildly, my lips still tingling from his delicious kisses. I need to compose myself. Gather my thoughts and emotions and put on the hostess mask.
I need to help Matt. He’s stressed. The last thing he needs to deal with is his volatile father making a scene.
Putting aside my tumultuous emotions and locking my still-wobbly knees, I stand up straight, smooth my hands over my skirt, and head for the courtyard.
