Hotshot Doc(79)

He hoists himself up onto his hands and uses the leverage to his advantage. With a confident grip, he hikes my bent knee up so my thighs are spread wider for him. One of his hands presses my leg into the mattress and he rolls his hips, grinding into me at an angle I’ve never experienced before.

My breathing is labored because I have one hand over my mouth. I’m scared I’ll unintentionally cry out again. My other hand is everywhere, fisting his thick hair, dragging down his back. I feel his muscles shift and I indulge myself and grip his hard ass as he thrusts into me again and again.

His mouth is at my ear and he’s apologizing that he can’t last much longer, that tonight has been too tortuous and drawn out. Then he pulls back up and bites his lip and concentrates on where our bodies are meeting. Sweat collects on his brow and I’m taking snapshots to remember later: the bunched muscles of his abs as he rolls his hips, the tension in his jaw as he tries to stave off his orgasm, the softness in his eyes as his gaze meets mine.

He brushes my hair off my face and I tilt my chin up in invitation.

He bends and kisses me languidly, teasingly. My tongue rolls with his and he moves his hand between my thighs. I wish I could say I put in a good effort fighting off that second orgasm, but the truth is that after only a few hours, Matt knows my body too well. His thumb swirls in time with his thrusts and I’m shattered. I can’t take another. “I’ll die,” I tell him.

He laughs huskily and drops his mouth to my breast, taking the tip into his mouth. It’s his answer, and it’s every bit as confident as him blatantly replying, Oh yes you will. Now come.

I do, and this time, I manage to stay as quiet as a church mouse, mostly because I’m so preoccupied with watching Matt lose himself. He can’t hold off any longer and I kiss his cheek, begging for him to let go as well. His shoulders bunch and his face falls into the crook of my neck. His hips jerk and it’s nearly painful how deep he is inside me. His fingers intertwine with mine over my head as the waves of pleasure shoot through his body. I’m lost to the sensation of it, the sheer bliss of making a man like Matt come apart at the seams.

He stays on top of me just like that as our breaths start to even out and the details of real life start to filter back to us. For the first time since we began, I’m made aware of just how tiny my twin bed is. Matt’s nearly falling off. My body is wedged painfully between the wall and him.

I drag a hand down his spine and he moans but doesn’t move.

“You’re going to fall,” I warn him with a little laugh.

He shifts to the left and covers me even more.

“Matt.”

“Shh, I’m sleeping,” he teases, hand dragging up and finding my breast.

“Oh, okay. That doesn’t feel like sleeping to me, sir.”

He lifts his head and his eyes blink open. He stares down at me for a few seconds and my realizations go as follows: Matt and I just had sex, write-home-about-it sex, and honestly, it felt a lot like we were making love. Yes, that four-letter word creeps into my mind like an uninvited party guest. Ohhh, you just wanted a casual fling? ’Cause I thought it’d be more fun if we tumbled head over heels.

His brows tug together in thought and he lifts his hand to wipe my cheek with his thumb. Oh dear god. Those are tears he’s wiping.

When was I crying?!

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, deeply concerned.

I shake my head back and forth on my pillow as his finger curves below my chin so he can tilt my face toward him.

“Are you positive?”

I nod.

His mouth curls into a panty-melting smirk. “Was I so good you’ve lost the ability to speak?”

I try to hide my face behind my hands, but he doesn’t let me.

“Do you want me to change the subject?”

“Desperately.”

“Okay, but if it helps, you look adorable right now.”

I bark out a laugh and his gaze shoots to my bedroom door. Oh god, I completely forgot I need to be quiet. I’m really bad at this. I press a finger to my lips to let him know I won’t mess up again. He rolls off me and stands, and presto chango, I’m now treated to a magnificent view of his backside as he walks toward my bedroom door. Wide shoulders, tapered waist, very nice rear end. All in all, I’d give him a 10/10, and I tell him so.

“Stop staring at my butt and c’mon. I need you to go out first and confirm the coast is clear,” he says quietly, glancing back at me over his shoulder. Something gives him pause and I swipe at my cheeks to make sure I don’t have any residual tears, but I don’t think it’s that. His gaze drags languidly down my body and oooh, right. I’m naked. Men are such simple creatures. When his gaze finally meets mine again, I try to ignore the mischievous glint I see there and instead return to the task at hand.

I sit up and whisper, “What happens after I check if the coast is clear?”

“Then we sneak into the bathroom and rinse off,” he says, as if it’s obvious.

“I meant after that.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Then we’re going to see how easily you can fit two adults onto a bed made for ants.” I must look worried because he adds, “Bailey, I’m not going to sleep on the couch. I’ll set an alarm on my phone and move back out there before your sister wakes up. She’ll never know.”