Emily was happy to pack a bag and go and see her Daddy, which made the drive to Collingwood easier—although the lonely drive back was still difficult for Natasha.

She stopped in Owen Sound and picked up paint on sale. Then she went to the liquor store and bought a decent bottle of wine and a small bottle of gin. At the grocery store she picked up pancake mix and maple syrup, as well as limes and tonic water.

Everything she needed to seduce the pants off Matt and then feed him in the morning.

She got home by the early afternoon, fully prepared to spend the next few hours painting by her lonesome, but when she pulled onto her street, she saw a familiar pickup truck parked outside her house.

Matt was waiting on the front step, bundled up in a winter coat.

She didn’t grab her groceries, or the paint, or even say anything to him. She just launched herself into his arms.

“Hey,” he whispered into her hair. “What’s this all about?”

“Big feelings,” she finally said, dragging in a breath. “Hi.”

“Ah.” He hugged her tighter. “Hi. And I’m sorry.”

“Emily was totally fine being dropped off. It’s a good thing. In theory. In reality, I’m a nervous wreck. And kind of grumpy.”

“Is this the first time he’s ever had her overnight?”

She nodded. “I know, that’s insane, but he’s never been interested before.”

Matt shook his head. “I’m sorry. Well, I’m here to help you paint. I’ll go out and grab dinner for us later.”

“I bought pancake stuff. I mean, I got it for breakfast tomorrow, but we could have them for dinner.”

He grinned down at her. “Emily’s away, so I can stick around for pancakes in the morning?”

“I was hoping you might.”

He cupped her cheek and pressed his lips against hers. “Yeah,” he rumbled. “I’m here until she gets back tomorrow. Or whenever you kick me out.”

She kissed him back, hungry for his warmth and softness and strength. Especially for that strength, because she was perilously close to crying over Emily and David and life.

“We could continue this inside…”

“Right.” She took a deep breath. “Oh, groceries.”

He helped her carry everything in, then shrugged out of his coat. Under it, he was wearing a buttoned-down plaid shirt, which he quickly took off as well, leaving himself in a snug white t-shirt that looked pristine and definitely not painting appropriate.

Of course, if he took that off as well, they’d never get to the painting. And she was still worked up over Emily being away, which wasn’t fair to Matt. When they got to that, she wanted to give him her full attention.

“Pretty nice shirt to paint in,” she murmured.

“Pretty nice woman to invite me over for painting foreplay. I had to dress appropriately.”

She laughed despite herself. “Painting foreplay?”

“Oh yeah. Remember when you asked me about my A-game? This move is currently theoretical, but I’m looking forward to putting it into action.” He gave her a careful look. “Do you want to hear my hypothesis?”

“As a fellow player, I really should know about this. For science.”

He grinned. “Flirting science.”

“Tell me, sexy professor. What is your hypothesis?”

“I think that there’s something deeply rewarding about repairing, building, restoring. Moving you into this place last weekend—that was special. Helping you paint, helping you build…whatever you need. I want to do that, too.”

Wow. That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. She bit her lower lip and gave him a small smile.

“And then I want to take you to bed, and work out the frustration we’ll surely build up in the close proximity while we’re working together.”

That was more like what she’d expected. She nodded. “That’s a pretty solid hypothesis.”

“Shall we move into the research trial part of the study?”

She laughed again and swayed against him. “Definitely.”

His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her into his rock hard body. “Unless you want to cut straight to the more direct method of stress relief.”

That was very tempting. But she had some restless energy to burn off in a productive way first. “Honestly, first I want to paint a bit and be grumpy.”

“That sounds like so much fun,” he deadpanned.

“Right?” She blinked innocently.

“Fine. Put me to work. What are we painting first?”

Her goal had been to get a coat of primer on one of the apartments, but it turned out Matt knew more than a little about painting, and in two hours, they’d done both apartments. He was quick and confident in his movements, and had a system down pat.

After they moved all the supplies back to her side of the house, he asked if she wanted to keep painting in there. “Might as well get as much work done as we can, right?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Do you want to break for dinner first?”

They decided it would be easier to go out—and eat on a real table—so they went to the pub for hamburgers, and while they ate, she thought about what she wanted to tackle next.

David had accepted that she’d drive Emily one direction, but he might get suspicious if she refused to have him come to her place again. “I think I want to paint the entranceway tonight,” she said slowly. “Get that looking somewhat decent.”

“We’ll make it shine.” Matt grinned. He didn’t ask her why, and she didn’t confess her worry about looking bad in her ex’s eyes. That seemed like an unnecessary downer on an unexpectedly lovely afternoon.

After she texted David for an update, and Emily called to say goodnight, they got back to work. They zipped through applying the primer, and after a quick drink break—where Tasha learned that Matt liked wine a lot more than he liked rye—they returned to put the first coat of colour on the walls.

“You have a lot of experience with painting,” she said, watching him effortlessly roll the longest wall in smooth strokes.

As soon as she said it, she regretted it, because the experience probably came from helping Jake and his construction business.

Matt finished his roll down the wall, then gave her a slow, careful look. “Yep.”

She sighed. It was a stupid thing to worry about. “With Jake?”

“Yep.”

“I shouldn’t still feel awkward about that, should I?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know how much should applies to feelings. They are what they are.”

Heat bloomed in her chest. “That’s probably true.”

“Do you want to talk about him?”

She wrinkled her nose. “No.”

“Do you mind if I talk about him?” Like it was no big deal.

And the way he asked it, maybe it wasn’t. “Sure.”

He went back to rolling the wall as he talked. “My brother is an idiot.”

“That’s a great start to the sharing,” she murmured under her breath as she picked up the putty knife to fill in the nicks and screw holes in the wall.

“He was born a grown-up. When I was younger, I thought both Jake and Dean were like that, but in the last couple of years, Dean’s chafed at the responsibilities of being the oldest. But Jake…he loves that shit. He loves being a dad, and a husband, and a business owner. And it’s all so wholesome. Which makes him an idiot, in some respects, because he doesn’t value any other framework for happiness. So, he would have never been a good fit for you, regardless of external influences.”

“That’s…very logical.”

“Since he’s my brother, the clearer we all are that your history was an always-doomed, never-a-big-deal thing, the better. He was never going to be the guy for you. Me, on the other hand…”

She grinned. “Yes, you.”

“I think I’m a very good fit for you.”

She agreed wholeheartedly. “We do seem to have quite the connection.”

Tasha gave up her attempts to patch. She sat down on the step stool and looked over at Matt. It was easy to miss that he was more than a pretty face, because he was so extraordinarily good-looking. And yet behind the perfect face and the remarkable height and the tightest, sexiest rear-end she’d ever seen was a sharp mind with a keen insight into the world around him.

“What do you think of me?” she said abruptly.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I think you’re incredible.”

Damn, Skippy. “That’s not what I mean,” she whispered, but her body was already heating up.

He put more paint on his roller. “What do you mean?”

“You’re spot-on with your assessment of your brother and why he wouldn’t have been a good fit for me. I bet you’ve got assessments of everyone you know.”

“Sure, I guess.”

“So what’s your assessment of me?”

“You’re different. I don’t think about you like that.” But he rolled a little faster. She watched the muscles in his arms flex and roll as he covered her hallway in an even coat of paint.

How do you think about me?

She picked up the sandpaper and went back over the far wall.

The next thing she knew, Matt was behind her with the paint brush. “Time to cut in this wall,” he said softly.

“I can do that.” She reached for the brush, and he handed it over, but he didn’t pull his hand back. He let her cover his fingers with her own, wrap her hand around his, and pull him close.

She pushed up on her toes and pressed her mouth against his, kissing him softly at first, then harder.

“You’re different,” he said roughly when they broke apart. “I have all sorts of complicated thoughts about you, and I’ll share them if you really want to know. But most of them circle around the notion of wanting more of you, more of this, more of Emily. More than maybe you can give.”

“I’m getting there.” She kissed his jaw. They could get there right now, right here on the floor of the hallway surrounded by wet paint.

“I mean it when I say want to take you to bed tonight, Tasha. I want to show you how I feel, what I think, in the best way I know how. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time now, and what it means.”

She blinked up at him, surprised at the rough tenderness in his voice, even after all they’d said and done. Of course she’d been thinking it too, but hearing Matt say it—and like that. I want to take you to bed.

It was almost old-fashioned. Definitely sweet.

I want to make love to you. He didn’t need to say it for her to know that’s what he meant.

“I could take you here,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m down for whatever. But I’m not in a hurry, because we have all night. And I want to take you to bed, to stretch you out and have you make all sorts of noise.”

Sweet in a dirty kind of way. She wobbled her head in a distracted nod. “I want that very much, too.”

“So let’s finish painting this hall,” he said with a growl. “You cut this in, I’ll roll it, and then you can warm up the shower while I put a quick second coat on everywhere.”

“Let’s do that together,” she whispered. Let’s do it all together. I’ve never had anything like this before, and I don’t want to miss a single second of it.

“Deal.”

Except it wasn’t easy. With the promise of taking their relationship to the next level—the naked bodies, blissful orgasms, emotional connection level—she was having trouble concentrating on getting their work done.

Luckily Matt was a consummate professional. And before she knew it, he was almost done, so she started to gather everything they’d need for the world’s fastest clean-up.

“There. Done.” He was grinning as he turned toward her. “I could use a—”

She held out the plastic grocery bag she’d already grabbed for the roller. “Here.”

There was no way that wrapping up a paint roller should be sexy, but Matt made it work. From the snap of his wrist as he puffed out the bag to the obscene way he smoothed his hand down the suddenly phallic length of the roller, Tasha could hardly stand how good he looked tidying up.

And he knew it.

His grin got more wicked, ever bolder, as he carefully set the roller in the middle of the drop cloth, and knelt beside the paint tray.

“Do you want to open the can for me?”

Was that a euphemism for take off her shirt? Because yes she did.

“Tasha?” The flash of white teeth as he laughed with her was just the icing on the perfect sexy boyfriend cake. “I’m serious. We need to put the paint away.”

“Yep.” She grabbed the can and set it between them on the drop cloth. “I’m with you.”

“Am I distracting you somehow?”

“You know you are.” She popped the lid of the can and took a deep breath. “And I’m enjoying it, I promise.”

“I’ve never seduced a woman while painting before.”

“I think technically you seduced me ages ago. This is just the…culmination of a lot of foreplay.”

Matt dragged his lower lip between his teeth as the last of the leftover paint rolled slowly out of the tray and back into the can. “I want you to know, this wasn’t exactly my plan when I came over. I really did want to cheer you up and help you paint.”

“Mmm.” She waited until he’d tapped the lid back onto the can and everything was neatly stowed away before she began unbuttoning her shirt. “And how many condoms did you bring with you?”

“The standard three-strip that I’ve been carrying around with me since Thanksgiving.” He reached for the loose flap of her work shirt, but she dodged out of the way. He gave her an easy grin. Oh, those sexy smiles. They melted her every time, even when he was being cheeky. “I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

She took another step away from him as her shirt fluttered to the floor.

It felt good to have his gaze on her. Hot, heavy inspection of her simple bra, her bare flesh. She reached for the button on her jeans. “It’s a good thing I bought a big pack the other day, then.”

His gaze jerked from where her fingers were teasing up to her face. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Tasha…”

She started moving again, walking backwards, until she bumped into the stairs. “I have a confession to make,” she whispered. “I can’t really warm up the shower. It’s a shoddily rigged-up temporary thing over a bathtub that I think might be a hundred years old.”

“I’ve never had a better invitation than that,” Matt growled as he closed the gap between them.

“It could fall down on us if we’re not careful.”

“Careful is my middle name.”

“You have a lot of middle names,” she breathed as he cupped her cheek.

“As many as it takes to promise you I’m whatever you need me to be.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted him to be careful tonight. But instead of saying that, she kissed him.

His hands covered her body. Big, wide, hot. He touched her all over, and then under, nudging her jeans down her hips until he had her ass in his palms.

When he lifted her up, she gasped and flung her arms around his neck.

“Hang on,” he growled as he wiggled her out of her pants, one arm holding her up the whole time.

As soon as her legs were bare, she squeezed them tight around his waist and buried her face in his neck. Her heart pounded a mile a minute as he climbed the stairs, carrying her toward the barely functional shower set-up and her empty bedroom after that.

There was nothing impressive about her house right now. Little impressive about her, really. She clung to him as doubt tried to invade this moment. Whispered thoughts of not being worthy, not being enough.

She pushed them away and kissed his skin instead of giving in to worry. He tasted warm and masculine, faint remnants of an earlier shower still clinging to his skin.

They could make this quick. Just a rinse off, then they could crawl under her covers and get to the good stuff.

But Matt wouldn’t be rushed. When he set her down in the bathroom, and she started the shower, he took his time stripping off his clothes, then peeling her out of her underwear.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he murmured as he traced his fingertips down her arms, then up the middle of her torso. He grazed her breasts, her collarbone, then back to her face. By the time he’d finished kissing her, the bathroom was nice and steamy after all.

“See? We warmed up the shower together.”

“I don’t think I’ve had a shower as long as that kiss in the entire time we’ve been here,” she admitted. “And never with the door closed. I didn’t know it could get all warm and cozy like this.”

“We had one of these tubs growing up. My dad didn’t bother to renovate the bathroom until after his hooligan sons all moved out.”

“It’s more about not wanting to leave Emily alone,” she admitted, which was the least sexy thing to say in this particular moment.

Matt just laughed and leaned in to kiss her again. “We don’t have that particular problem right now, so that door can stay closed and we can be steamy together for as long as you want.”

Carefully, they climbed into the tub, taking turns standing under the spray. Once they were both wet, Matt reached for her body wash and squeezed a good dollop into his hand.

“Turn around,” he said, tugging her close.

She pivoted slowly, rubbing her hip and then bottom against him, but he didn’t take the hint. He took his role as back washer seriously, soaping her up everywhere before shifting her back under the water so she could rinse off.

He used her soap on himself, too, which she liked. She wanted to watch him take himself in hand later. Her brain flashed sharp, hot ideas. Show me what you like, she’d whisper. And he’d show her, because he’d give her anything she wanted.

He filled his hands again with soap, and gently smoothed his palms over and around her breasts, against her nipples, until her flesh was heavy and hot and so ready to be dried off.

“Lower,” she breathed.

He trailed his fingers over her belly.

Over her mound, just grazing her clit. She rocked into his touch, helping him wash her and turn her on and drive her crazy.

“Show me,” he murmured, and the echo of her own thought—how right it was, how right he was—ratcheted up her arousal.

“Slow,” she told him. “Mmm, yeah. Long, slow, hard. You can squeeze me there.”

He cupped her entire sex and tightened his grip, kissing her at the same time.

Her head started to spin in the best way. “Bed,” she gasped.

Somehow he figured out how to turn off the water while still licking his way through all of her erogenous zones, and then it was her turn to blindly grab two towels.

Drying each other off was another excuse to get tangled up and practice more show and tell with what each other liked. She stroked his chest, the hard planes of his abdomen, and then wrapped her hand around his cock the way he had in the shower.

That first feel of him, heavy and pulsing against her palm, was electric.

She breathed his name. “Matt…”

The next breath was a gasp as he flattened them both against the bathroom door, his thigh insistent between her legs. “Bed,” he growled.

Right, she’d already said that, too. They were both reduced to single syllables of need. Names, nouns, pleas.

More, yes, there. Hard. No, slow, yes—again and again, because there were a lot of whispered confirmations back and forth.

Lick.

“Oh,” she sighed as he traced his tongue down her neck and over her collarbone. “Definitely bed.”

They both went for the door at the same time, which made her laugh and him growl again. He stepped back and gestured for her to lead the way, which meant she could feel his gaze on her back, on the bare curve of her skin, her ass, as she led him to her bed.

A man, in her bed, for the first time in years.

But she’d wanted this for weeks, and the heat between them had zoomed straight to combustible in the shower.

This was going to be good.

“Hey,” he murmured as he caught her around the waist just shy of her bed. He sucked in a breath as their naked bodies collided, his muscles hard against her softer, rounder parts. “God, it’s hard to think when you’re against me like this.”

She twisted in his arms, and this felt even more incendiary. Her nipples brushed his chest, and heat slicked between her legs.

Every part of her was eager, wet, greedy.

“Let’s not think, then,” she said in a rush as their lips connected.

“Deal.” He lifted her up and onto the bed.

Her legs fell open and he crawled on top of her, resuming the licking that had driven her to distraction against the bathroom door. His breath brushed the top of her chest and over her breasts, his tongue circling her nipples one at a time before sucking the left peak into his mouth. His hand found the right, following the same principles she’d whispered to him in the shower. Slow, hard.

She arched into his firm touch, into the perfect tug of his mouth against her skin.

They needed a condom and they needed it now.

“I want to taste you,” he growled as she shoved him toward the bedside table.

“Later.”

He laughed and rolled protection over his cock. She reached for that beautiful length and tugged him back between her legs.

“I need you,” she said softly as she rubbed the crown against her clit, then lower, easing him into her slickness.

He braced his hands on either side of her and used his entire body to push them together, filling her with three careful, increasingly deep thrusts. On the last one, as her body made way for the last bit of him and he stretched her from the inside out, he caught her gaze and groaned.

They held a shared, raw connection as he throbbed inside her.

This was so much more than just having sex again for the first time in ages.

This was so much more, period.

“I need you, too.” His voice was thick, the words heavy, and she reached for him. He lowered onto her as he started to move. Fluid, skilled, but with an edge that echoed the raw expression she’d seen in his face.

Like he barely had a hold on his control here.

She wanted to make him lose that last bit of it. She wanted to feel all his emotions, all of his need tonight.

Hooking her arms around his body, she moved with him. Rose to meet each thrust, squeezed around him as he pulled away. She listened to each of his groans and growls and doubled down on all the things that ripped those beautiful noises from his body.

But she wasn’t the only one with an agenda for pushing the limit. He used his hands and mouth to do the exact same back to her, and before long she was losing her ability to track what he liked and wanted.

He’d reduced her to the circling, curling, climbing desire deep inside her, a primal sensation of ascension that felt nothing like the functional orgasms she could give herself.

She burst apart as he closed his mouth once again over her breast and pulled her nipple hard against his fluttering tongue.

Oh, that tongue.

Those hands.

She wrapped herself hard around his body as her climax ripped through her body. With a few shuddering, broken thrusts, he followed her into his own orgasm, and then he collapsed hard on top of her.

“Fuck,” she finally whispered.

“Yep. We did—and how,” he said in a strained voice, holding back a laugh.

She pressed her face against his sweaty shoulder. “Oh, God.”

“Mmm.” He lifted off just enough to grab the condom, then rolled away.

She followed and licked his back, giggling the whole time. “That was…perfect. And not even perfectly imperfect. I mean, that was—”

He rolled her onto her back and settled on top of her, heavy and thick and…actually perfect. “I know what you mean,” he murmured as he traced her jaw with his fingertips. “I think I’m actually speechless.”

“We’ve already said some nice things,” she whispered.

“Maybe we should try not talking again.”

“Again?”

He grinned.

Even perfect had an upgrade option with Matt. Yes, again.