BAILEY

“The couch!” I shout, a little too forcefully. “He’ll take the couch, of course.”

Matt smiles at how flustered I am, but I refuse to meet his eyes. This entire charade has gone on long enough. The last few hours have been absolutely unbearable. Oh yes, please, let’s all sit and watch a movie together while visions of Matt in that bathroom dance in my head. What a wise idea!

I’m burning up on the inside and I’m worried Josie can tell something’s up. I swear I’m flushed from head to toe, a human-sized cherry. I think I wrung out my hands through the entire last half of the movie. My heart hasn’t slowed its rapid pace. I’m a jittery, turned-on mess.

I curse the weather as I march to the linen closet down the hall, relieved that I happen to have clean sheets and a blanket for Matt. There are no spare pillows, so I grab him one from my bed and then hurry to make up the couch for him.

“I can help,” he says, reaching for the sheets.

I shake my head adamantly. “No. I’ve got this. Why don’t you just…stand over there, will you?”

I place him beside the Christmas tree and I swear his eyes are filled with amusement.

The space is necessary. If it weren’t so cold, I’d make him stand outside. If he comes near me again, if he tries to kiss me like he did in the kitchen, I’m going to give Josie a show that will scar her for life. My little sister doesn’t need to see that. She’s still so young and naive. She even asks Matt if he wants something to read.

He must look confused because she continues, “I read before bed every night and it helps me get to sleep. Here, I’ll go get you something.”

I nearly shout at her to stay put, but she’s already disappeared down the hallway. Matt steps toward me and I start working double time. That sheet and blanket are laid out so quickly I should probably contact the nearest Best Western about working in housekeeping.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” he says from behind me, his voice smooth velvet.

I turn and give him a quick nod and a bow. A BOW, because that’s how awkward this evening has become.

If Josie weren’t here, we’d have had sex four times over.

I know it. He knows it.

God, this is terrible.

“Here you go!” Josie says, walking back into the room with a stack of books. “Have you read The Hunger Games? The series is kind of old now, but I think it’s held up nicely. This is the first book.”

Matt smiles and accepts it, promising to read a few pages before he goes to sleep.

I busy myself with clearing the dishes and unplugging the Christmas tree and brushing my teeth. I change into a button-up flannel nightgown and a pair of fuzzy socks. It only occurs to me afterward that I could have chosen a sexier outfit to sleep in, but that would be complicated seeing as I don’t own any sexy pajamas. It was either this or a holey oversized t-shirt.

Once I’m finished, I venture back into the living room.

Matt’s sitting on the couch, on top of the blankets, checking his phone. His shirt is untucked, but other than that, he hasn’t changed. He glances up and his gaze catches on my nightgown. I look down to ensure I didn’t miss a button or anything, but nope, everything is in place. I could easily pass for a ten-year-old at a slumber party.

“Cute,” he says with a wry smile.

I nibble on my bottom lip and finally think to ask, “Do you want some clothes?” I squint one eye as if sizing him up. “I might have a big t-shirt that would fit you, or maybe I could fashion you a toga out of a sheet?”

He smirks. “I’m fine. I’ll take my shirt off once everyone’s asleep.”

Josie finishes up in the bathroom and then comes to stand beside me.

“Night Matt! Hope you like the book.” He tells her good night as well and she turns to go to her room, but then she pauses at the doorway and looks back at me. “Bailey, aren’t you going to bed too? You guys aren’t going to stay up late without me, are you?”

She’s concerned she’s going to miss out on the fun, like we’re going to bring out cupcakes and a disco ball once she’s tucked in bed.

I stare at Matt, trying to work up some reason for why I need to speak with him alone, but nothing comes to mind.

“I—” All I see is his perfectly handsome face grinning up at me. He thinks this is funny. He loves how much I’m squirming. I sigh, finally coming to terms with the fact that tonight’s not the night for Matt and me. “No, we aren’t staying up late. I’m going to bed too. Night Matt.”

Josie hooks her arm around mine as if escorting me down the hall. It’s all innocent. I truly don’t think she realizes what she’s doing, but it’s funny all the same. I deposit her in her room with strict orders not to stay up too late reading. She shoots me two thumbs up and then leaps onto her bed.

I walk into my dark, lonely room and stand just inside the doorway, at a loss for what to do. I can’t go to sleep. I can’t sneak back out there while Josie’s awake. With a sigh, I walk to my bed and prop my pillows up so I can lean against them and read. Well, I pretend to read. My book is a useless prop. I don’t even bother turning pages. I sit there, chewing on my bottom lip and contemplating what Matt could possibly be doing. Surely he’s not reading The Hunger Games like it’s any old night. I wonder if he’s taken his shirt off now that Josie and I are tucked in our rooms.

Good GOD, if that man is out there shirtless, on my couch, I will…I don’t know…I can’t finish the thought. I have to fan my face.

I’ve had enough.

I slap my book closed, push off the bed, and creep out into the hall. Josie’s lamp is still on in her room. I see the faint light peeking out from underneath her door, so I turn and go into the bathroom. I close the door and stare at my reflection. It wasn’t a good idea to come in here. Being in this bathroom reminds me of being in that bathroom with Matt.

I splash water on my face, pat it dry, and then yank the door open.

A pale light glows in the living room and I take a hesitant step toward it before fear douses my courage. No! This is stupid! I should just accept the fact that nothing more is going to happen tonight, lie down in my bed, and go to sleep.

I should do that…I’m going to do that…I have every intention of doing that, except I don’t.

I tiptoe to the very end of the hallway, careful to be extra quiet as I pass Josie’s room, then I press myself flat against the wall and peek my head around the corner.

Matt’s sitting on the edge of the couch, head in his hands. The Hunger Games is forgotten on the coffee table in front of him.

His shirt is off, but his pillow and blankets are still right where I put them, untouched. He’s been sitting there, dragging his hands through his hair like he’s doing now. He looks agitated, and I’m not surprised. He’s probably annoyed that our night got derailed by hot cocoa and Elf. Not exactly a sexy night in…

I study the contours of his smooth, tan skin, the bunched muscles of his shoulders and biceps. He’s too big for that couch—for this house, really.

He shakes his head as if deciding something and then looks up. I freeze as his gaze clashes with mine.

I’ve been caught.

Snooping.

I press my lips together to keep from speaking. Neither of us says a word. Josie will hear us if we do.

He’s still leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees. He doesn’t move as he stares up at me. I want him to give me some signal that he’s glad to see me standing here, but the only guidance I have to go on is the storm brewing in his eyes. Those are not the eyes of a man who wants to lie down and go to sleep.

I take a hesitant step out from behind the wall and he sits up straight.

I hug my middle and take another step toward him. Then another.

He doesn’t move and he doesn’t meet me halfway.

I start to shake a little as I keep walking, nerves racking through me. I could be reading the situation wrong, but it’s too late to turn back now. I’m already too close and the moment I step within reach, Matt’s hand shoots out and tugs me forcefully between his legs. His warm palms grip the backs of my knees, and I’m so out of my league it’s not even funny. His face is level with my chest. My fingers weave through his thick hair, disappearing into the dark strands. I bend down an inch and he tilts his head back. Our lips brush together and it’s gentle at first, a teasing, could-be-more-if-we-want-it-to-be kiss. His hands skim up the backs of my thighs and then his fingers knead into my soft flesh. It’s the first sign of his impatience, followed swiftly by a low groan. He tilts his head and deepens our kiss; his tongue touches mine, and I’d press my thighs together if he weren’t currently prying them apart. He leans back so I can climb on top of his lap, and I do just as he wants me to. My nightgown bunches at my waist and I hook my knees on either side of his hips. His suit pants brush against my panties and I can’t help but roll my hips reflexively. The way his hands squeeze my hips lets me know he likes it. He rocks me back and forth against his length as his mouth teases mine. We’re grinding together and finding a rhythm.

I’m losing my mind.

He’s impossibly hard.

His hands are everywhere: in my hair, on my hips, cradling my head so he can tilt my chin up and sweep kisses down my neck. It’s so heady when his fingers tease the top button on my nightgown. YES, I think. I’m more than ready to feel his hands on my bare skin, to have him touch me in places I’ve only imagined, but thankfully my brain catches up before we get too carried away.

My little sister is still awake, like ten feet away from where we’re currently mauling each other. If we’re going to do anything in this house, it has to be in my room, with the door locked and (preferably) a loud marching band performing out in the hallway.

I jerk back and break our kiss.

Matt’s gaze meets mine, his brows tugged together in confusion.

He thinks I’m pumping the brakes.

No, you fool.

I’m changing locations.

I scramble up off the couch, reach down for his hand, and tug him after me. We cross that living room in half a second. We’re down the hall, pressing fingers to our mouths and stifling laughter before I shove him into my bedroom, close the door, and freeze.

I listen for any sound of Josie stirring in her room or the subtle pad of footsteps on the carpet.

Blissful silence greets me.

I grin and turn to Matt.

We just might be able to get away with this.

I stand in front of him, half a room away as my hands find the buttons of my nightgown.

Am I really going to do this? I ask myself even as my fingers start to move of their own volition. My stomach quivers as the first button is undone. Then the next. Cool air hits my chest and a shiver racks my spine as I work the third button free. His eyes slash down to where my hands are working and the cool air is replaced with searing heat. My hands start to shake and that fourth button proves especially tricky.

He stays right where he is, watching me as I undress for him. He’s still wearing his suit pants, but his feet are bare. His hair is in disarray, but his features are as sharp and calculating as ever. Without his shirt, he’s a wall of tan skin and hard muscle. My mouth waters and I swallow, in awe of the effect he has on me. No words, no touching—just him, standing in my room, shadowed by the moonlight.

“Keep going,” he urges, his voice husky and low, and I realize then that I’ve paused, too preoccupied with staring at him.

I force my attention down to my nightgown and find the fifth button. The two sides of the dress sag open just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage. My skin glows like porcelain in the dark room and when I work the sixth button free, Matt growls and steps toward me.

He reaches me in two long strides, gripping my waist with one hand and using the other to push the flannel fabric off my right shoulder. The thick material scrapes across my sensitive skin as his mouth finds the base of my neck, my collarbone, and then the very center of my chest. He bends before me and strings kisses along my skin until he reaches the curve of my breast exposed by my nightgown. His fingers push the flannel aside reverently, baring me. Finally. My chest heaves as he stares down, almost in awe. His finger traces along my breast and then he hauls me against him at the same moment he takes the very tip into his mouth, sucking and kissing with a fervor I’ve never felt. My knees give out but he holds me up, dragging his tongue across me.

Heat spreads through my body as he takes his time worshiping me. It nearly feels like I’m the one doing the seducing, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

He’s the one in control, loosening another button on my nightgown so it’s easy to push off my other shoulder. The fabric pools at my feet and I’m standing before him in nothing but a silky pair of underwear and red fuzzy socks.

Standing before him like this, it feels like there’s so much more of him than there is of me. His hands are bigger than mine. He’s stronger, older, more confident. He bends to kiss my other breast and my hands roam across his back, trying to feel every contour of muscle, every inch of heated skin.

He wraps his hands around my hips and pushes me toward my small bed. There’s no use trying to keep up with his deft movements. We’re backing up at the same time his hands slide into my panties and cup my ass. He uses his grip to bring me against him and his hard length grinds into me. I can feel him through his pants. I know how patiently he’s waited. For hours—weeks.

He whispers against the shell of my ear, telling me how badly he wants to feel me wrapped around him.

His hips roll and my eyes pinch closed. There are still layers of clothes between us, but the sparks are there, warning me. I don’t want to come like this, just from his hips grinding against mine.

But I will if he continues.

I beg him to slow down because I’m coming undone too easily, but he doesn’t care. My silk panties brush against overly sensitive skin as he continues his seduction. His hand skims down and he brushes his fingers across me, on top of the fabric. He’s relentless and I’m angry with him, mad that he’s doing this to me when we’re so close to feeling skin on skin, so close to the real thing.

He kisses me relentlessly and continues teasing me right up until my toes start to curl, until I’ve completely surrendered to the beginnings of an orgasm. I don’t care about anything now that I’m so close. I can feel the tingles start to trickle up my spine and then suddenly he pulls back and deposits me on the bed. The shock of cold air jerks me sharply away from the edge.

If I was angry before, now I’m on fire. I scramble up and over to him, yanking on his pants at the same time he unzips them and pushes them down. They’re on the floor and his briefs are next. I lose my breath as I finally catch sight of his length. My reaction must be funny because he chuckles and pushes me back onto the bed.

“Not so angry now?” he teases right before his mouth meets mine.

A kiss.

God, it feels like ages since his mouth has been on mine, but it’s only been a few seconds. I’m reminded why we’re here, why I’m spreading my thighs and begging him to continue, to finally let this happen. My anger burns away and there’s nothing but all-consuming need left behind.

“We need to be quiet,” he warns as his hand drags down my body. His fingers hit the edge of my panties and I dig my nails into his shoulders. He pushes past the top of the fabric and then his palm covers me. We’ve been here before, his fingers sinking into me, but this time it’s infinitely better because his weight is on top of me, his naked heated skin covering mine.

I offer some inaudible plea and he shakes his head, bending down to kiss me.

His finger sinks inside me again, burrowing deeper.

“You nearly got us caught earlier,” he reminds me. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

Even as he threatens me, his fingers drag back out and then in, stretching me, teasing me.

My orgasm—the one he stole from me a second ago—comes roaring back to life, and if he’d only just keep…doing…that.

“I won’t make a peep,” I promise as my gaze finds his. My fingers wrap around the sides of his biceps and I use all of my strength to keep him there on top of me. His eyes are hooded as he stares down at me. I arch my back and my breasts brush against his chest. “Please,” I whisper desperately, and finally, a quiet groan tears through him and he claims my mouth.

My panties are tugged off and thank God he’s quick with the condom he pulls out of his wallet because I’m dying a slow death as he settles himself back between my thighs and thrusts into me…slowly…slowly…and then all at once. A moan rips through me as I finally orgasm just from that one, hard thrust. Fireworks dance behind my closed eyes and Matt’s mouth crashes against mine. His kiss is painful and biting and he’s angry at me for breaking my promise to stay quiet. He punishes me when he thrusts harder again and again. I wish I could tell him I’m not in control. My body is his, these limbs and mouth and that delicious spot in the center of my thighs are his to do with as he pleases. I wish I could tell him this is no punishment. This is a gift.

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.”

He says all this while he strides confidently back toward me. I make a move to get off the bed, but he’s quicker. He bends down and grabs my knees, tugging me so my butt is right on the edge. I think he’s going to help me up, but instead, he pushes me back down with one hand on my chest.

My heart leaps into my throat. “I thought we were going to the bathroom,” I say, voice faint.

He’s staring down between my legs, a drugged look in his eyes. “We are…just as soon as I’ve finished.”

“Matt,” I warn, but it’s no use.

He smiles and gets down onto his knees. “Maybe try not to wake the entire neighborhood this time.”

I toss my hands up over my head in defeat. I highly doubt we’ll be getting any sleep tonight.