“Oh, yeah. Where’s your car?”
“At the trailhead,” she said. “Your truck?”
“On a fire road, a quarter of a mile from here.”
Not too far…
He read her expression, and his own went dark, further quickening her pulse. “I live close.” His hand slid into her hair, tipping her head up to his. “If we leave now, I’ll be off the clock by the time we get to my cabin.”
“Yes,” she breathed. His gaze tracked to her mouth, which he gave one quick, hard kiss before leading her to his truck.
The drive took them up old Highway 20, then down a narrow, curvy road. Amy caught sight of the occasional cabin, but not much else. When the road ended, Matt kept going, on a dirt road now, which opened up to a small clearing, and then his house.
“Two minutes left,” she said, staring at the rugged cabin in front of her. It was way off the beaten path, which suited him. So did the inside. The ceilings were open beamed, the floors scarred hardwood. Everything was wood accented, including the big, comfy looking furniture and the frames of the pictures on the walls of the Northwest Pacific landscape.
Amy felt a little ping deep in her chest. Not of jealousy, but envy. Matt had found his place in this crazy world. He knew who he was and what he wanted. And he’d gotten it for himself.
Someday soon, she promised herself. She was working on doing the same.
“Want a drink?” he asked. “Something to eat?”
The tension between them was so palpable she could taste it. “No.” She was here for one thing, and it was nourishment of a different nature altogether. With any luck, they’d do this and get each other out of their system. Then maybe she could go back to concentrating on why she was in Lucky Harbor—following Grandma Rose’s journey. She dropped her backpack to the floor.
He tossed his keys to the coffee table.
“No getting attached to me,” she said, hands on hips. “Cuz I’m not going to get attached to you.”
He gave her a smile. “Can you resist?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. It was her specialty. She shrugged out of her sweater and let it fall on top of her backpack.
His eyes heated.
She bent to undo her boots, but he said, “I have fantasies about those boots,” so she left them on and pulled off her top.
His gaze drifted warmly over her, heating her in the places yearning for his hands and his mouth.
“You’re lagging behind,” she said.
He unholstered his gun and set it on the coffee table. Next to that went his utility belt. He kicked off his boots. Then before he got to anything good, he stepped toward her.
“More,” she said.
“Oh, there’s going to be a lot more.” His voice was husky with the promise of it. “But I want you in my bed.” He took her hand and tugged her into him. Then he slid his other hand up her back and into her hair, holding her for his kiss. It was slow and romantic. And not what she wanted. So she broke away and went for the button on his uniform cargo pants. She’d long ago learned that to get what she wanted from a man, all she had to do was get him na**d.
Luckily this time what she wanted and what this man wanted were perfectly in sync. She got his button popped, his zipper down, and slid her hand inside, wrapping it around his glorious, hard length.
He made a sound that was pure male hunger before stopping her. “Bedroom,” he said again firmly, and gave her a nudge to the hall.
She nudged back and pushed him up against the wall, just to the side of his fireplace. He’d asked if she wanted something to eat, and she did. “Dessert first,” she said. “Always.”
His mouth curved. She was amusing him. Turning him on, too, the proof was hard against her belly. Her body responded to that, and she kissed him, long and deep as she unbuttoned his shirt. God, his torso. Hard. Ripped. She wanted to lick him, and started in the dip at the hollow of his throat.
His groan reverberated in his chest, and in response, the blood pounded through her body. His hands were on her, everywhere. One glided down her back to her bottom, the other cupped a breast, his thumb teasing back and forth over her nipple. He murmured her name as his body shifted, and she knew he was about to take the control from her. So she dropped to her knees on the fireplace rug and took it first, slipping her hands back inside his open pants, freeing him so that she could run her tongue up his hot, silky erection.
With an inarticulate growl, his head thunked back against the wall and again his hands slid into her hair. She could feel the fine tremor in his legs, and that turned her on. He was the epitome of a strong and dominant male, and she had him weak at the knees at one touch of her tongue, so she gave him another. And another…
“Jesus,” he gasped. “Jesus, Amy. We’ve got to slow down.”
She didn’t, and he lasted only a few minutes more before swearing roughly and creatively, his fingers tightening reflexively in her hair. “Keep that up, and I’m going to come.”
She wanted him to. Making him lose control was really working for her, and when they were done with this, she was going to take him apart in a different way.
“Christ. Amy—”
She kept going, taking him through what sounded like a very happy ending. She was still enjoying the little aftershocks running through his big, powerful body when he dropped to his knees and pulled her into his lap. He unhooked her bra and bent her back over his arm, sucking a nipple into his mouth, hard.
With a gasp of pleasure, she gripped his head. Not to pull him away but to keep him there. God yes, right there. A minute later, she realized he’d somehow peeled her out of her shorts and panties as well. In only her boots, he adjusted her so that she was straddling him right there on the floor. His hand traveled down her torso, between her open thighs, his long fingers playing slip and slide.
Pleasure swamped her, making her cry out. She never cried out. Shocked at the hurry-up noises she was making, she bit his shoulder to shut herself up.
Matt hissed in a breath but kept stroking her with those talented fingers, in and out, in a rhythm that became her center of gravity. He commandeered her mouth as well, kissing her hard and deep, reducing her to a gasping, panting, pleading mass until, unbelievably, he sent her flying. She came back to herself to find him still idly stroking her core, his mouth soft and gentle. “Round one,” he said silkily, “is a tie.” Then he laid her out on the rug, holding her still when she wriggled, trying to get on top.
She was always on top.
But he shook his head, a smile curving his mouth, a very wicked smile. Lowering his head, he kissed his way down her body, stopping to pay special homage to each breast, and then her stomach, playfully tugging her crystal belly button piercing with his teeth before moving lower.
“Matt. Matt, wait—”
He didn’t listen to her any more than she’d listened to him a few minutes ago. With his broad shoulders holding her legs wedged open, he took all her power away with one perfectly placed stroke of his tongue. Reduced to a whimper, she slapped her hands down on the rug on either side of her h*ps as he sucked and nibbled and drove her straight out of her ever-loving mind.
It was a shockingly short drive, and this time she came back to herself, boggled. Normally she had to concentrate to cl**ax at all, and yet he’d given her a twofer, so effortlessly she hadn’t even known what hit her. She didn’t know whether to thank him or be embarrassed. “Well.” She rose up on her elbows and eyed the room for her clothes, which were scattered. Except for her boots. Those she was still wearing. “I’m going to need a ride.”
He rose up, too, still between her legs. His smile deepened, turning positively wicked. And unbelievably, she felt her body react.
Again.
“Yes,” he said. “I believe I can give you a ride.” Stripping out of his remaining clothes with a few economical motions, he then turned his attention to her boots, pulling them off for her. When they were both bare-ass na**d, he scooped her up and kissed her, his tongue sweeping and sucking and stroking in demand.
And damn. Damn, she couldn’t hold back her breathless moan, because good Lord the man knew how to use his mouth, stirring up emotions during an act that should have been only a physical release, and he did it effortlessly. She tried to pull back to think about that, but he had a good hold on her, and next thing she knew, they were on the move to his bedroom.
He set her down on a huge bed, then before she could scramble away, he stretched his body over hers.
And let’s face it, scrambling away would have been tricky without any bones left in her body.
He produced a condom, and in the next instant, thrust inside her, and oh, God, the pleasure, the panic… Because she knew. She knew it even as she cried out and clutched him closer to her that she was in the worst sort of trouble now.
Because this wasn’t just a physical release at all.
Not even close.
“Look at me,” he said.
With effort, her eyes fluttered open, and she focused in on his face, transfixed by the expression of pure ecstasy etched on his features. She had no idea what it was with her, whether it was the eroticism of what they’d already done to each other, or that she could still taste him on her tongue, or maybe it was just the incredible feel of him so hard, so deep within her, but she wanted him with a desperate need she hadn’t even known she could feel. Bringing her legs up, she wrapped them around his waist, whimpering when he slowly withdrew only to push back inside her.
“Good?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t, she was drowning in the sensations. He ran his hands down her arms until their fingers were entwined, then drew them up above her head, securing them there.
That brought her out of herself a little. She arched into him, trying to tug free but he held her down as he nudged his hips, giving her a slow, glorious thrust. Another cry was torn from her lips, and she couldn’t quite understand what was happening. He was claiming her completely—heart, body, and soul in the most primal, raw way she’d ever allowed. And as he did, his eyes held hers prisoner in the same way he held her body, watching as her body writhed under his ministrations.
Branding her as his.
It was too much, and she tugged hard. “No.”
He immediately let her hands loose, a frown of concern forming, but before he could say a word she rolled him, knocking him flat to his back. Holding him down now, she mirrored his actions, running her hands up his arms until their fingers were linked over his head.
Ha.
His hooded eyes searched hers for a long beat before he gave her a sexy smile. “Better?”
“Much,” she said, and the next sound out of either of them was two shuddering breaths of pleasure as she lifted up before sinking back down on him.
Matt’s groan was rough and heartfelt, and he let her do as she wanted, as she needed, which was to ride him hard and fast, every thrust sending electric heat sparking and crackling along each nerve in her body. And in the end, when they’d both shattered and she’d sagged boneless to his chest, when he’d gathered her in and pressed a sweet, tender kiss to her damp temple, she realized the truth.
When it came to Matt Bowers, she had no control at all.
An hour later, Matt stood in the dusty staging area at the trailhead, watching Amy drive off. He’d taken her to her car as she’d asked, and she’d left him so quickly his head was still spinning.
Seemed what they’d shared had gotten a little too close for comfort back there in his cabin, and apparently, Amy wasn’t all that fond of that.
Well she could join his damn club. He’d come here to Lucky Harbor to get away from everyone, not to get too close for comfort ever again.
Something else he’d failed at.
“Remember,” she’d said back in his bed, bare-ass na**d, tousled, and gorgeous. “That was just sex.”
He’d nearly asked if she’d been reminding him—or her. But she’d had an emphatic look on her face, making it clear that she was in no danger of wanting more.
The drive to her car had been made in silence. Hard to tell if it’d been good or bad silence since his woman-radar had been broken ever since Shelly had packed her shit and walked right out of his life.
Actually, she’d run.
He shook his head but it was no good. His brain was still scrambled. Amy had scrambled it good with the best bl*w j*b he’d ever had. Then she’d ridden him like a bronco, detonating any brain capacity he might have managed to retain. She’d taken him her way, all the way, clearly not liking being vulnerable, just as clearly needing to be in charge.
Which had been new and… interesting.
It sure as hell would be hard to argue that he hadn’t had a great time. It’d been the kind of sex that every guy dreamed about, down and dirty, mindless.
No strings attached.
And isn’t that exactly what he’d wanted from her?
Chapter 11
So much chocolate, so little time.
The next day, Amy worked at the diner. It was a slow, uneventful shift, made even slower due to a daylong downpour. The pier was empty as the rain beat down on the entire Washington coast, and the diner remained empty, too. This left Amy with way too much time to think.
Not a good thing when she kept flashing to the memory of Matt in bed moving over her, his voice a sexy, erotic whisper in her ear, their bodies slick with sweat, their limbs entangled. Every time she replayed it, she felt a tingle in spots that had no business tingling while she was serving customers.
It’d been so long since she’d been with someone. That’s what she told herself. Years long, in fact, since an ugly night in Miami years ago now, when she’d landed into yet another rough situation that she almost hadn’t gotten out of. Just another case of a guy wanting more than she wanted to give. She’d forgone sex completely after that.