Instead he watched her wash her hair. Watched the dark mass of it slither down her back as she raised her arms, put her head back, lifted her face to the spray.
Matthew groaned.
Mia’s eyes flew open. She stared at him and then her gaze dropped lower, lower, dropped to his boxer shorts.
To the heavy bulge beneath them that he couldn’t have controlled if his life depended on it.
She looked up. The shock of what he saw on her face jolted through him like a live wire.
The shampoo bottle fell from her hand.
“I’ll get it,” he said in a voice that bore no resemblance to his own.
He bent down, picked up the bottle, rose to his feet… Rose to his feet and put the bottle back on the shelf, and, hell, the only way to do that was to move closer to her.
“You missed a spot,” he said thickly.
Her lips parted. “What?”
“You left some lather on your shoulder.”
She didn’t move. He stepped closer, skimmed her shoulder with his fingertips, then bent his head and put his mouth to her skin.
Her wet, sweet-smelling skin.
The sound that came from her throat was as soft as the whisper of the wind.
“You know why there was soap on your shoulder?” he said. She shook her head, her gaze fixed to his. “Because you can’t take a proper shower with your clothes on.”
He reached behind her. Found the clasp of her bra. She began to tremble as he opened it and drew the straps slowly down her arms.
His throat constricted. Her breasts were so beautiful. So beautiful.
Matthew bent his head. Kissed her arched throat. Kissed the lush curve of one breast, then drew the nipple into his mouth.
She moaned. Raised her hands. Put her palms flat against his chest.
He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her panties. Gently worked them down her hips. Crouched before her so he could ease first one foot and then the other free.
He kissed her insteps. Her ankles. He raised his face, kissed her thighs and put his face against her. Against those feminine curls. And inhaled the scent of soap and woman and desire.
“Mia,” he whispered, and he parted her labia with his tongue, touched it to the tiny, exotic bud that was hidden there, and she cried out, the sound high and wild and as exciting as her taste.
Her hands were in his hair. Her hips were undulating. She was weeping and he knew he was going to come any second and he didn’t want that to happen, didn’t want this to end before it had really begun.
He rose to his feet. Cupped her face and kissed her deeply, letting her taste the mingled flavors of his hunger and her desire.
Then he shut off the water, scooped her into his arms and headed for the bedroom.
CHAPTER SIX
A WASH of ivory moonlight lay over the huge bed.
Matthew carried Mia to it and lay her down in a sea of cool white linen. She opened her arms to him and he whispered her name as he went into her embrace.
He kissed her, kissed her again and again. Her honeyed taste filled his senses; he could kiss her forever, he thought, and never weary of doing it.
He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and bit gently into the soft flesh. She gasped and he soothed the hurt with kisses before slipping his tongue into her mouth.