Tied with Me (With Me in Seattle, #6)(75)

“Hi, I’m Ben.”

He doesn’t clarify exactly who he is, which exasperates me and seems to amuse the hell out of Ben.

“I’m Matt.” He shakes Ben’s hand, out of manners hammered home by Gail more than anything, I’m sure, and pins me in his hard stare.

“Now.”





Chapter Nineteen


Matt leads me behind him, through the restaurant and down a short hallway to the restrooms. He opens the men’s room door and when he sees that no one is inside, he pulls me in with him and flips the deadbolt.

“Matt…”

“Two weeks.” He cages me in, my back against the door and his hands planted on either side of my head. “We haven’t spoken in two weeks, and now you’re out with some new guy?”

“It’s not what it looks like…”

“What it looks like”—he lowers his face closer to mine. His eyes are feral, angrier than I’ve ever seen them, and he’s panting—“is the love of my life allowing another man to hold her hand over dinner and flirt with her. What the f*cking hell, Nic?”

“He’s just a friend,” I insist and glare at him, but my stomach quivers at the feel of him so close to me. “He’s a very good friend.”

He growls and plants his mouth on mine, not gently, not carefully, but with hunger and lust, as though he’s been without water for days and I’m a mirage in the desert. He cups my face in his hands and plunders my mouth, his tongue seeking my own. He bites my lower lip and then plunders again as his hands glide down my sides to my hips and thighs, where he gathers the soft material in his fists, yanking it up around my waist before ripping my panties in two, throwing them over his shoulder.

“You are mine. I stayed away like I promised I would, but I’m done, Nic.” His voice has softened, but it’s still intense. His hand glides up the inside of my thigh as he leans his forehead on my own, his eyes clenched closed. His hand drifts higher until his fingers graze my lips and circle my clit gently.

“I can feel how f*cking wet you are, little one, but apparently I need to remind you who you belong to.”

He boosts me up against the wall and presses his denim-covered cock against my core, rocking against me, making me gasp and groan. Hell yes, I’m his! And suddenly, he can’t get inside me fast enough. I don’t care that we’re in the restroom of a restaurant. I need him. Now.

He leans back to unfasten his jeans, unleashes his cock and very gently rubs the head of his hard dick over my clit and through my folds, until he slips inside me, burying himself as deep as he can go. He pulls both my hands over my head and pins them with one of his hands, supports my ass with the other and proceeds to f*ck me hard and fast, panting and growling. He bites my neck, leaving a mark, I’m sure, then kisses me again, until we both have to break away to breathe.

“I told you before, I’ll never share you, sweetheart, and I meant it.” He releases my hands to cup my face in his palm, brushing the apple of my cheek with his thumb.

God, he’s consuming me. I can feel the frustration rolling off him in waves, and while his movements are urgent, he’s still gentle, careful not to hurt me.

He’d never hurt me.

He leans his forehead against mine and in a low voice commands, “Come.”

And I can’t help it, I do. Having him touch me, inside me, is my undoing, and I come hard, bucking my hips and clenching around him.

“There is nothing sexier than watching you come,” he groans and explodes inside me.

We’re both panting, and I’m quivering from the aftershocks of both of our orgasms. Before pulling out of me or even setting me back on the floor, he grips my chin in his hand and keeps my gaze pinned to his.

“You have five minutes to get rid of the * and get in my car. You are already spending the night tied to my bed, but you take even a second longer and you’ll be blindfolded as well.”

I gape at him as he pulls out of me, tucks himself away and sets his watch. He turns to the sink, wets a paper towel and returns to me, kneeling at my feet, cleaning the insides of my thighs where his semen has streamed out of me. He straightens my skirt, tosses the towel away, stands and kisses me thoroughly and completely, then takes my hand in his and leads me out of the bathroom back to my table.

When we arrive, Ben is grinning wider than I’ve ever seen him.

Matt leans in and kisses my cheek, then whispers in my ear, “The clock is ticking. I’ll see you outside,” and then he’s gone.

“So, are things resolved?” Ben asks, watching Matt walk away.

“Uh, I think the groveling is about to come sooner than I expected,” I reply in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Ben, but…”

“No, don’t be sorry. I’ll be here all week. We’ll catch up another day.”

I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

I grab my purse and hurry out of the restaurant to find Matt parked in front of the entrance, the engine running, and waiting for me.

I climb into the passenger seat and watch him warily. “I’m here.”

“That’s a good start,” he replies and pulls away from the restaurant toward his own apartment.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”