Pregnant by Morning. Kat CantrellЧитать онлайн книгу.
Oh, yeah, she really did like Matt. There was something to be said for a guy who could make her laugh with such regularity. “That is what I meant, and before you get all smart-alecky with me, go ahead and hit me with third, fourth and fifth.”
“Did I buy you dinner first?”
“Who cares? I’m naked or did you forget?”
“Oh, no, my gorgeous little butterfly, I did not forget. I asked because I’m trying to get a solid picture in my head of the scene.”
His hand pressed on her nape, oh-so-slightly, and her head fell back. His lips grazed the corner of her mouth, not quite touching, but close enough to send a frisson of sparkling heat all the way down to her core.
Well, she hadn’t intended for this speed date to descend into foreplay, but okay. It was sizzling. And personal information, like their secret professions, or lack thereof in her case, wasn’t likely to come up.
“Are you naked on a bed after I’ve undressed you?” he murmured against her jaw, breath fanning the uncovered part her of face and making her ache to turn into those lips to complete the connection. “Or naked in the shower and have no idea I’m about to join you? Naked, but asleep and I’m going to awaken you slowly?”
Her lungs hitched. “Cheater. You’ve played this game before.”
She felt his mouth turn up against her cheek. “Let’s assume I’m a quick study. Your answer? I believe that was three questions.”
“It was?”
Who was seducing whom here? And how far did she want this to go? Never had she contemplated such a dangerous liaison with a mysterious man she’d only just met but who touched her on so many levels.
“Bed, shower or asleep? I must know in order to tell you what I plan to do. Or perhaps you’d prefer I show you?”
Yes, yes she would. Except she couldn’t speak, as he slid an arm around her waist, drawing her taut against his warm body. She clutched his shoulders and they were amazing and strong underneath his jacket. “There’s no shower on this balcony.”
“So true,” he murmured. “The alarm’s going off.”
It wasn’t. She didn’t care.
He covered her mouth with his and turned her into liquid mercury for the second time. The man was a master, hot and forceful, and her lips fell open under the divine pressure. He plunged in, tongue skimming against hers, deliciously rough and tasting of champagne.
She moaned and changed the angle, inviting him deeper, urging him forward with small tugs of her hands against his shoulders. More, she needed more, needed to quench the thirst raging in her veins with this extremely arousing man.
Judging by the full-fledged blaze between them, he felt the same. About her, not Eva. How great was that, to be with a man who hadn’t already made a bunch of snap judgments?
“Touch me,” she commanded hoarsely, her damaged voice even more raw with desire.
Almost hesitantly, he palmed her breast through the thick bodice of the dress, and she nearly growled in frustration. Forget that. She reached down and gathered up the hem of the ridiculously full skirt and tucked it under the sash at her waist. She guided his hand through the opening, straight to her bottom.
It was his turn to groan as he flattened his palm against her bare cheek. “A thong? That is unbelievably sexy.”
“Not nearly as sexy as your hand on it while I’m still fully dressed.” He explored the uncovered flesh and traced the strings into her crevice and back out again. Her knees almost buckled. “Don’t stop. Keep going.”
He took her mouth again, ravenous and greedy, as his fingers nudged underneath the silk. Just far enough to steal her breath for a long second. Blatantly, she circled her pelvis, silently begging him to go deeper.
Whether she’d planned to go this far or not, her body wasn’t holding back. She was about to come apart under his capable hands.
Instead, he withdrew entirely and blew out a heavy breath, smoothing her skirts down with a confusing finality. “Angie, I have to confess something.”
“You’re married.” Disappointment swamped her so quick and so fast she nearly convulsed. The ache, which had moments ago been a vortex of desire, cooled. She should have known.
“No.” He shook his head in vehement denial. “I’m completely unattached. It’s just...I don’t...”
“You’re not attracted to me.” But his impressive length had ground hard against her, evident even through the monstrosity of fabric at her waist.
He swallowed hard. “How could you possibly think that? I’ve never been so turned on in my life. There’s this one small problem. I’ve never seduced a woman on a balcony, so I’m ah...unprepared.”
Oh. “You don’t have a condom.”
The giggle slipped out before she could stop it. He was just so flustered and so cute, running a hand over his dark blond hair with evident frustration. It caught her quite unexpectedly in a soft, warm place inside. Talk about being unprepared.
Was he ever going to stop being so unexpected and amazing? God, she hoped not.
Three
“I’m glad you find my lack of preparation amusing.” Matthew certainly didn’t. He’d never been so mad at himself and so happy she wasn’t angry, all at the same time.
And he had never been in quite so much physical pain. Yes, the women in his social circle were sophisticated and demure, rightly so, but lukewarm in their approach to everything.
He never realized how truly hot it could be with someone so uninhibited.
“It’s not funny. Trust me, it’s not.” She pulled him down by the lapels and kissed him sweetly. “That’s for not having a condom.”
“What?”
She shrugged with a delicate one-shoulder move. “I’ve been around my share of dogs. It’s nice to find someone who isn’t always thinking with what’s in his pants. Besides, this isn’t the dark ages. You can easily be mad at me for not having one.”
“I take it that means you don’t.”
She shook her head. “And I can’t do birth control. Everything gives me headaches. But we’re in luck because it’s Carnevale. I bet we can score a boxful of very festive condoms from Vincenzo’s room.”
So now Matt had been reduced to stealing condoms. Brilliant. Condoms were not first and foremost on his mind, yet he’d gladly jumped into her wicked game without hesitation.
What was he doing on this balcony?
“Maybe it’s a sign.”
“A sign? Like what, we’re not supposed to hook up tonight?”
Hook up. Matthew Wheeler did not hook up. He’d been happily married to the perfect woman and would still be if an aneurism hadn’t killed her. Commitment made him tick.
Angie might discount the idea of signs, but he couldn’t. This wasn’t meant to happen and probably for a very good reason. Did he really want a one-night stand with some woman he’d met at a party? It just wasn’t his style.
The empty palazzo next door called his name, offering a place to retreat and lick his wounds. Where he would go to bed alone, dream about Amber and wake in a cold sweat. If he slept. Sometimes he lay awake, racked with remorse over leaving his family in the lurch.
That was his real life. This interlude with a winged woman at a masked ball was nothing but a fantasy born of desperation and loneliness. It wasn’t fair to use Angie to appease either.
But God Almighty, it was difficult