Merry and Bright(59)

“You.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Ever look in the mirror? You’re not so bad to look at.”

She stared at him, then shook her head. “I don’t have time for your lines. I want to be home before midnight.” With that, she wheeled away, moving down the dark hall again, her bare feet silent, her hips swinging gently, mesmerizing him with her attitude and utterly accidental sexiness.

“Why do you have to be home before midnight?” he asked.

“I’ll turn into a pumpkin. Here.” She entered the mail room. “I was thinking maybe someone is reading incoming mail.”

“There’s only one mail clerk.”

“Belinda,” she muttered.

“She’s young, but awfully sweet. I don’t think—”

“If she’s so sweet, then why aren’t you dating her? Why aren’t you doing her inside a women’s bathroom stall?”

He eyed her carefully. “You keep mentioning the women’s bathroom.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “You know what? Never mind.”

“No, I think I want to hear this.”

She strode over to the mail sorter’s desk and the computer there. Someone had forgotten to turn off the radio, and “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” strained lightly over the airwaves. Cami’s hair was wild now, from her own fingers, and he loved the way she walked, full of authority and temper, her ass tight and tempting.

“I walked in on her having a fun time in the bathroom,” she said, booting up Belinda’s computer and chewing on a nail while she waited, silent and stewing.

He also loved watching her sizzle, but this was more, there was sadness, too, and he moved closer. “Fun. You mean sex?”

“I just never thought he had it in him—” Computer booted, she began clicking on the keys, but something in her tone had him taking her arm, pulling her up and around to face him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, looking at a spot somewhere over his shoulder.

Cupping her jaw, he waited until her eyes met his. And in them he found his answers. “Ned,” he said softly. “That *.”

“Yes, well, you’re right about that,” she said in a lofty tone that didn’t fool him one bit. He remembered the night of the party. She’d thought he was Ned. She’d asked him why he never kissed her.

And now she was doubting herself. “You are far too good for him, Cami.”

“Really? Then why does no one else want to date me either? Why do I have to beg men to kiss me? Oh, forget it—Oof—” she said when he tugged her back against his chest.

“I do not want a pity kiss,” she choked out, hands flat on his pecs.

“That’s good, because you’re not getting one.” With one hand anchored low on her spine, the other slid into her hair at her nape. Watching her, he lowered his head. “This is the real thing,” he murmured.

“Matt . . .”

“Shh.” When their mouths connected, he felt it reverberate through him. Like coming home, he thought.

With a surprised murmur, she pressed even closer, tentatively touching her tongue to his. He lost it. Growling low in his throat, he dug in, losing himself in the feel and taste of her, pulling back only when she put her hands against his chest and pushed.

He stared down at her, and she stared right back, not trying to break free, just breathing like a lunatic and blinking those huge, expressive eyes at him, as if coming awake from a long sleep. “I don’t think—”

“Perfect. Don’t think.” And he took her mouth again, savoring her soft little whimper of pleasure and the way she fisted her hands on his shirt, anchoring him close. He had no idea how long they went at it this time before they had to stop again to breathe. He’d pressed her back against the desk, and had one hand on her sweet ass, the other toying with the strap of her tank top, a muscled thigh shoved between her softer, more giving ones. Her nipples were boring holes into his chest, and he was so hard he couldn’t see straight. “God, you look good here.”

“In the mail room?”

“In my arms.”

“I don’t need pretty words, Matt. I’m not the kind of woman a man fusses over.”

“Then you’ve been with the wrong men.”

“Agreed.”

He looked down into her flushed face. Her lips were full, and still wet from his. Her eyes were luminous, and shining with so much emotion she took his breath. “I could be the right man,” he said quietly.

She laughed, then her smile faded when he didn’t laugh back. “You’re . . . not kidding.”

“No.” This wasn’t just play, or just a kiss. This wasn’t just lust, although he felt plenty of that right this very minute.

It was the real thing.

But she shook her head. She didn’t believe him. Hell, he couldn’t blame her, given his life and the way he’d lived it—one day and one woman at a time. He wouldn’t have believed him either. “I want to be with you,” he said, and though it might have sounded rash, it wasn’t. It’d been building for a long time. “Exclusively.”

“What?” She shook her head, as if certain she’d heard him wrong. “What does that mean?”