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“It’s embarrassing because you’re not used to being naked in front of me? You’ll get used to it.”

“Matt, I won’t, I—oh—” She closed her eyes as he touched her and a thousand bolts of sensation shot through her body. “You can’t—it’s daylight.”

“That’s not a reason to stop, that’s an observation.” The soft humor in his voice made her squirm but he held her still, keeping her hips pinned to the bed with his hands.

“Can we at least wait until dark?”

“If we wait until dark, I’ll put the lights on. No difference.”

“Matt—”

“Trust me. I want you to trust me.” His roughened tone made her face burn. He eased his way back up her body and smoothed his hand through her hair. “Relax. You’re safe, Frankie. I promise I’ll always keep you safe.” He trailed the tips of his fingers over silky, sensitive skin, his touch feathery light. He knew exactly where to touch her, how to touch her. And then he followed the same path with his mouth, until he strayed close to that secret part of her. She felt the warmth of his breath, the touch of his fingers and then the slow, expert slide of his tongue.

A moan left her lips and she clamped her mouth shut, shocked by herself.

Previously she’d always been held back by the past, but right now the past was nowhere. There was only the present.

Her hips shifted against the sheets, but he held her fast, his tongue exploring her aching flesh. He did things to her no one had ever done before, his wickedly clever mouth and fingers driving her excitement levels into the stratosphere. She forgot she was lying naked in a beam of sunlight, forgot that this was Matt, forgot everything except the squirming, delicious pleasure he created with the slow stroke of his tongue and the intimate invasion of his fingers.

She lay in that impossibly intimate pose, naked in front of him, and utterly vulnerable. She felt her body ripple and tighten as he urged her toward an elusive, mysterious peak. Pleasure escalated, reaching an agonizing pitch, and she felt her body spasm and clench around the pressure of his fingers. She came, dimly aware that she was crying out Matt’s name and telling him not to stop, her body racked by shudders.

Finally, she lay limp and closed her eyes tightly.

She felt him move, easing up the bed so that he was lying next to her.

“Frankie—” His voice was rough. “Look at me.”

Look at him? Was he kidding? She was never going to be able to look at him again. She covered her face with her hand but then felt his fingers close over her wrist, drawing her hand away. “Leave me, Matt. Seriously. Just—leave me. I’ll make my own way home. We never have to look at each other or have a conversation again. Tell everyone at the wedding that I died.”

There was a pause and when he spoke there was a trace of amusement in his voice. “Just so I get the story right, what was the cause of death?”

“Embarrassment.” She felt his fingers on her arm, stroking gently.

“Why are you embarrassed?”

“Do you seriously need to ask?”

Because she’d completely come apart in front of him. She’d yelled his name. She was pretty sure she’d begged him at one point—

Her face was so hot she could have charred a burger, and Matt curved his palm over her cheek, forcing her to look at him.

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying sex, Frankie. And there’s definitely nothing wrong with you.”

To her utter mortification she felt the hot scald of tears in her eyes.

Crap, crap, she never cried. Never.

“Look at me, Frankie—” He pulled her hands away from her eyes and cursed when he saw the glistening dampness on her skin. All traces of amusement faded. “Don’t cry, honey. Shit, don’t cry. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. Next time I’ll take it more slowly. We’ll do it in the dark if that’s really what you want.”

“It’s not you, it’s me. I don’t know why I’m crying. I never cry—” she scrubbed the heel of her hand over her face “—except I never knew I could feel like that. I thought I couldn’t—I thought I was—I don’t know who I am anymore.”

He pulled her against him, wrapping her in his arms, enclosing her in warmth and strength. “You’re the same person you’ve always been, except you’ve learned something new about yourself. We all find out new things about ourselves all the time, Frankie. That’s not a bad thing.”

It didn’t feel bad, it felt good. All of it felt good and she wanted more.

How could she possibly want more?

She kept her face pressed against his chest, absorbing his strength and the male scent of him.


Tags: Sarah Morgan From Manhattan with Love Romance