Matt left the family brunch at Charlotte’s Grove determined to head off his mother and aunt before they foisted some kind of sissy decorator on him. Neither of them seemed to understand that he didn’t want their help or their money. For once in his life, he wanted to be a normal guy, furnishing his first solo apartment the way anyone else would. By taking a trip to IKEA and buying some stylish but inexpensive furniture.
Just because he had a trust fund didn’t mean he had to behave like a trust fund baby. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Mom pay for his furniture. If he wanted to earn Dad’s respect, he would do this on his own.
The way Dad had. Mom came from a wealthy family, but Dad had never touched one penny of Mom’s money. This explained why Matt and his brothers had grown up in a modest split-level home instead of a big mansion like Charlotte’s Grove or the sprawling hilltop compound that Uncle Jamie had built for himself.
Dad would appreciate the fact that Matt stood up to Mom and Aunt Pam. And even though it might hurt Mom’s feelings, he had to do it. He had to be independent.
So he asked Uncle Jamie if he could borrow his truck a second time, and Jamie agreed, no questions asked. Matt drove down to the IKEA in Woodbridge and filled the truck with a ton of boxes containing housewares, a dining room table, four dining room chairs, a coffee table, two end tables, and two reclining chairs. The couch would be delivered on Thursday.
It took all day to buy the stuff and haul it up the stairs. By eleven o’clock that evening, Matt had managed to put together the basic rectangular dining room table and straight-back chairs, but everything else sat stacked in boxes, and his living room had become a sea of discarded cardboard—a veritable playground for Dr. Doom and Ra’s al Ghul. To be precise, Doom hid, and Ghul stalked and pounced. The cat formerly known as Aramis had attitude, ex-Porthos did not. Doom was destined to become a fat, lazy lap cat.
Matt pulled a Coke from his mostly empty fridge and watched the cats for a long moment. He ought to take Doom across the hall as a peace offering. Doom and Ghul looked a lot alike. Maybe Courtney wouldn’t notice the switch. All in all, Doom would make a much better chick’s cat. Ghul was the sort of cat that didn’t give a damn what his human did, so long as food arrived on a regular basis. A perfect guy cat.
He let go of a long sigh and rubbed his eyes. He was tired, and thinking about Courtney wasn’t much better than thinking about the tenants of Dogwood Estates. His mind flashed back to that moment in the gazebo when he’d first tasted her. Sweet. Salty. Hot. Like fudge and nuts on creamy ice cream. She was delicious, and he had a craving.
He checked his watch. It was too late. Maybe tomorrow.
He finished his soft drink and tossed the can into the recycling bin. He was too tired to clean up. Too tired to finish the job. “Come on, you guys, it’s bedtime.” He chased after the kittens, snagging Doom without much trouble. Ghul tried to hide behind the unopened boxes, but Matt managed to corral that kitten too.
He was about to take them back to the bedroom when someone knocked on his door. He didn’t have to guess who it might be, not at this hour.
Well, damn. When he’d kissed Courtney and walked away, it was with the hope that she might make the next move. But he hadn’t expected her to come knocking. She’d built a big wall around herself and then dug a moat. A single kiss seemed unlikely to breach those barriers. But maybe he’d underestimated her.
He tucked the kittens under his arm and opened the door. Courtney stood in the buttery glow of the hall lights with her big, slightly asymmetrical eyes wide. She wore a little black dress that did nothing for her curves, and she’d pulled her hair back into a tight granny bun. Her shoes were flat, and she looked as if she hadn’t slept well last night.
The last detail gave him reason to smile. “If you’ve come to borrow a cup of sugar, I’m afraid I don’t have any.”
Her gaze traveled down and then up, stalling at the kittens cuddled in his left arm. “Cute,” she said. “I have a question.”
“The answer is yes.”
“I haven’t even asked my question yet.”
“The answer is still yes.”
She sighed, the sound conveying her exasperation. Man, he loved pushing her buttons. “Okay, wiseass,” she said, putting her hands on her hips, “if you want to play Jeopardy that’s fine with me. What’s the question?”
“What is, can I have my cat back?”
She shook her head and made a sound that resembled an obnoxious buzzer. “Wrong.”
“Wrong? You don’t want your cat? Really?”
She shrugged. “I’m willing to negotiate on that point, but that’s not why I knocked on your door.”
His heart slammed against his ribs. Holy crap, was this his lucky night? No, wait, stop. Even if she had come to ask that question, maybe he wanted to play hard to get. Maybe he should make her work for it.
No. Bad idea. Besides, if she’d knocked on his door looking for sex, he’d be an idiot to turn her away. He wanted her in the worst way. He wanted to touch those incredible breasts. He wanted to feel the silk of her skin beneath his hands. He wanted to bury himself in her. And not just because it had been a couple of months since he’d hooked up with anyone. This want wasn’t a general longing. It was quite specific. He wanted her because she was Courtney.
“You want to come in?” he asked.
She bit her lip, and even though she wasn’t wearing lipstick, the sight of that plump lower lip caught against her teeth made him hard. She had no idea how she drove him to distraction.
“So,” he asked into her hesitation, “are you coming in or not?”
She straightened her shoulders as if girding herself for battle and then nodded without a word. He stepped aside and let her pass into the cardboard chaos that was his living room.
“You went shopping.”
“Yeah, I’ve always lived with roommates. So I needed a few things.”
“This is a bad idea,” Courtney said under her breath, and turned back toward the door.
He blocked her path and then bent down and gently turned the kittens loose. They scampered away into their cardboard playground. “What’s a bad idea?”
“I don’t know, really. I was at the Jaybird, having a conversation with Juni about Cat Guys, and somehow I came to the conclusion that it would be okay for me to knock on your door tonight. Because I’ve never met a Cat Guy before, and there’s all this stuff on the Internet about how great Cat Guys are. You know, how they’re comfortable with their masculinity, aren’t very needy, and clean up after themselves…” She scanned the mess in his living room. “Obviously I was wrong.”
“Cat guys?”
“Single men with cats. As opposed to single men who are Hook-up Artists. The truth is you’re sort of interesting.”
“Well, that’s nice to know.” He took a step toward her. She didn’t back away.
“I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
He took another step that brought him within kissing range, and she still hadn’t backed up. “Maybe, a little. So I take it you’re here to learn the truth about Cat Guys?”
“Um, yeah, kind of.” Her eyes went wide and dark, and a blush crawled up her cheeks that was so sexy and adorable it almost made him groan out loud.
“You’re a funny girl, Courtney Wallace.”
“Not really. The thing is…it’s been years since I’ve kissed a guy who was moving into his first apartment.”
He dipped his head. “Are you gonna bring up that age thing again?”
She shook her head. “No. Yes. I—”
“Make up your mind.”
“Yes,” she said on a puff of air, but she didn’t move away from him. If anything, she swayed a little in his direction.
He smiled. “See, I knew the answer all along.” He slanted his head and moved in.
Courtney froze, enthralled by the heavy-lidded look in Matt’s gaze. The outcome of this chase was no longer in doubt. The irony, of course, was that she’d put herself at his mercy.
Would he live up to expectations? Or would he turn out to be like so many other guys, selfish, in a hurry, and essentially clueless about sex.
Courtney could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times any guy had given her an orgasm. So, really, the odds were stacked against her.
But she’d never taken a Hook-up Artist to bed. And she’d never even dreamed that a Hook-up Artist could simultaneously be a Cat Guy. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?
She didn’t move as he advanced, and when his lips finally met hers, she surrendered. His kiss started out as soft as a butterfly’s wing, sweet as nectar, and strangely unsatisfying.
Damn. She hadn’t knocked on his door for sweet kisses. She’d come to see if Matt was capable of giving her the full monty. So she took the offensive, stepping into the kiss as she cupped the back of his head. The silky texture of his hair brushed along her palms as his body heat overwhelmed her. Her pulse roared in her ears as she parted her lips and invited him in.
All at once, the sweet, soft kiss morphed into something fiercely carnal. Matt spiraled in, his tongue circling and dancing instead of invading. Holy crap, he really knew how to kiss.
And he tasted good. He smelled even better—an intoxicating blend of woodsy soap and man. She ran her hands down over the hard bones and muscles of his shoulders and then rocked up to get better traction. He rewarded her with a deep, inarticulate grunt that made her burn more fiercely. Nothing turned her on more than knowing that she’d turned on some guy. It felt like a validation in some deep part of her psyche.
She fell into that kiss and lost all sense of time and place. She wanted it to go on forever and almost mourned when he pulled away. But then he linked smaller kisses and nips down across her jaw to the corner of her neck, right below her earlobe.
He nuzzled her there, his tongue still drawing lazy circles, igniting an inferno inside her that threatened to melt every single one of her bones. It was her time to cry out, but even that release did nothing to diminish the coiled energy that Matt’s kisses created inside her.
Suddenly, he was too far away.
“I want to feel you,” she murmured, as her hands journeyed down his back, over the bumps in his spine to the bottom of his T-shirt. She continued the exploration under the soft cotton, splaying her palms on the warm skin of his back for a moment, before she drew the shirt’s hem up so she could touch his chest. He was hard muscled, all male, with just the right amount of chest hair.
Matt undid her dress’ zipper and then drew the shoulders down her arms so he could link more kisses over her clavicle. She wiggled out of the dress, letting it fall around her ankles.
She expected him to move in on her breasts like an invading army. Guys always did that. But not Matt. Instead he concentrated on that spot right below her ear, while his hands seemed to be counting the bumps in her backbone.
Damn. Her breasts ached for his touch, but he seemed intent on denying them. She ought to say something. But she didn’t. She held back, like she always did. Afraid that the moment her breasts were exposed, he’d lose interest in everything else. And right now that thing he was doing to her neck was so nice.
Maybe she should take the initiative. That would be different. It seemed like the right thing to do, so she reached for the button on his jeans. Then she dipped her fingers below his waistband. His breath caught, and she wondered if she should stop.
No. She was going to take charge this time. So she drew down the zipper, a move that elicited a soft, erotic groan that made her feel strangely powerful. That feeling didn’t last very long because, in the next instant, she found herself shoved up against the door as he ground himself against her.
She could have predicted that result, but for some reason, it felt good to have him pressed up against her. Almost perfect, but not quite.
“Take off your shirt,” she whispered. He complied, tossing the garment over his shoulder into the pile of cardboard boxes. His chest was wide and solid and utterly drool-worthy.
“Nice,” she said.
This earned her a cocky grin. She glanced into his espresso eyes, blown away by the dark fire she saw in them. He was beautiful and aroused. She ran two fingers down along his jaw, his stubble abrading her fingertips, until she found the pulse point at the base of his neck. She didn’t bother counting the beats. She’d checked enough pulses to know that his heart was racing about as fast as hers.
He moved in again, making short work of her bra, which he tossed over his shoulder into the mess on the floor. He gazed down at her girls, and she braced herself for the moment she stopped being a person and became a collection of body parts.
She waited. But he didn’t do the expected. Instead he leaned against the door, his hands on either side of her head, as he moved close enough so that the tips of her breasts brushed against his chest.
A tidal wave of lust swamped her. She arched against the door, hungry for more, but he denied her. Instead he dipped his head and kissed her again until she couldn’t think about anything else except the fact that she might explode any minute if he didn’t touch her.
“So,” he murmured, drawing back, “if the answer is yes, what’s the question?” One of his eyebrows arched.
“What is will you touch me, please,” she rasped.
His eyes sparked with a wicked, amused gleam. “Ding. You win.”
He stepped closer, taking the weight off his hands as he trailed hot, moist kisses down her chin and neck to her breasts. Finally one of his broad, warm hands cupped her left breast as his mouth found the nipple of its twin. He didn’t tweak or knead. He didn’t grope. He touched with such unbelievable skill that she could hardly bear it.
“Oh, God,” she hissed, arching against his touch and giving him unfettered access. “Don’t stop, please.” She had never begged a man before. But she’d never been teased so unmercifully either.
“I have no intention of stopping until I touch every square inch of your incredible body,” he said.
There was nothing incredible about her body, but in that moment, she believed him. And then he started kissing her again, from her mouth down her neck to her breasts, and then Matt fell onto his knees and drew her panties down and started all over again with his touches and kisses until he’d turned Courtney into a quivering mass of sexual longing.
Courtney was delicious in so many ways. Her curvy bod, the soft skin over her belly and thighs. Her unbelievable scent, musky and sweet at the same time. Her taste. Salty, womanly, and utterly unique.
He wanted to give her an orgasm but not here, not against the door. So he left her right on the brink.
“No,” she said. “Please don’t—”
He was a total jerk to leave her like that, but he wanted her to have the best possible memory when she walked out of here tomorrow, and his instincts told him that taking her into the bedroom and starting all over again would be better.
So he stood up, breathless and aching for her.
“Why did you stop?”
He didn’t answer the question. Instead he performed the He-Man maneuver, pulling her up into his arms and carrying her across the threshold of his bedroom. Which, now that he’d entered it, was not as neat as it should have been for a night between the sheets. But it was too late now. He hadn’t exactly put his bed frame together. His mattress and box spring sat directly on the floor, surrounded by boxes and suitcases he’d yet to unpack.
She didn’t seem to notice, thank God. Instead she had her arms around his neck, her head on his shoulder, and her gaze locked firmly with his.
Matt believed that every woman was a beautiful creation, but Courtney was more than beautiful. That slightly skewed gaze gave her a sultry innocence that made him want to introduce her to every possible nuance in the Kama Sutra. Of course she wasn’t a virgin; she just looked like one. And he had a feeling she might even be willing to venture beyond the restraints of convention.
Not that he was into kink particularly. But he had a very specific fantasy that involved cheerleaders, and Courtney would look outstanding in a tight little sweater and a short little skirt.
She looked outstanding naked too.
He gently placed her on the bed. “Now, where were we?” he asked, but before he could climb in after her, she rose on one elbow and put up the universal stop sign with the palm of her hand.
“Stop,” she said. A wave of untamed frustration washed through him, but he stopped.
“What? Did you change—”
“Strip. I want to see the goods,” she said, a wicked glimmer in her baby blues.
“The goods?” He gave her a supremely confident smile.
She nodded and bit her lip, sending uncontrolled lust coursing through him. The next time they did this, he was going to ask her if she’d suck on a lollipop while he watched. She’d probably slap him if he asked for something like that, especially since she was so hung up about being older than him. Oh, if she only knew.
“Okay,” he said, his voice husky.
She’d already unzipped his zipper, so it was easy to shuck out of his jeans and boxers all in one quick motion.
“Oh,” she said on a little breath.
“Do I pass the test?”
She nodded. “Absolutely.” Her smile was wonderfully naughty.
“Okay, your turn. Take down your hair while I watch.”
She seemed surprised for a moment, but then she smiled like Botticelli’s Venus emerging from her shell. She raised her arms and slowly pulled out bobby pins, scattering them across his bedroom. He groaned as her dark hair tumbled down over her shoulders.
“How’s that?” she asked as she settled back into his pillows, stacking her arms behind her head.
She left him speechless and breathing hard.
“Come on, Matt, a girl can’t wait forever.”
Neither could a guy. He climbed into the bed with a clear agenda in his mind. But he lost all control over his mind when she rolled him over and proceeded to fulfill several of his most intimate fantasies. After which he returned the favor. Several times. Well into the wee hours of the morning.