indeed know what she liked.
She felt him inching her skirt up her thighs, and delight shivered through her. When the material reached the top of her thighs, his hands still. Breaking off their kiss, he looked at her. She splayed one hand against his chest, absorbing the hard, heavy beat of his heart, the rise and fall of each ragged breath, exhilarated that she had such an effect on him. He skimmed his hands underneath her bunched-up skirt and cupped her bare bottom.
His eyes briefly slid closed. When he opened them again, the heat in his gaze nearly scorched her. 'Do you have any idea how the thought of you sitting across from me, close enough to touch, wearing nothing beneath this skirt, drove me insane all evening?' He pushed her skirt higher around her waist, and his fingers played lightly over her buttocks, gently squeezing, tickling, delving, rendering her incapable of speech.
'I couldn't think of anything but you,' he whispered against her lips. 'Touching you. Tasting you.'
He stepped forward, urging her back until her legs hit the mattress, then he pressed her gently down until she lay on the cover, her upper body supported by her elbows. He sank to his knees on the floor.
'Spread your legs for me, Jilly. Let me touch you. Taste you.'
Heart pounding, she splayed her legs wider. She watched him arouse her with his fingers, caressing her with a slow, drugging, circular motion that had her undulating her hips in a silent plea for more. He kissed and nibbled and licked his way slowly up her inner thigh. The sight of his dark head nestled between her legs, his silky hair brushing over her skin, his magic touch against her sensitive, aroused flesh, all conspired to steal what remained of her control.
When he slid his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her to his mouth, a long moan of unrestrained pleasure escaped her. She collapsed onto her back, and her eyes slid shut as she reveled in the incredible feel of his tongue and lips and fingers gliding, caressing, driving her past the edge of reason. An intense orgasm throbbed through her, wave after wave of deep release that left her breathless, limp, and utterly sated.
Matt raised his head, and stilled at the heart-stopping sight of Jilly, flushed, mussed, skirt pushed up to her waist, thighs splayed, eyes closed, limp from pleasure. With the taste of her lingering on his tongue, he rose and quickly undressed. After rolling on a condom, he loomed over her.
'Look at me, Jilly.'
She slowly opened her eyes. With their gazes locked, he entered her in one long, smooth stroke, burying himself in her silky, tight heat. He clasped her hands, entwining their fingers, then moved slowly, deliberately, withdrawing nearly all the way from her body, before gliding deep again. Her eyes darkened, then glazed with renewed passion. His mouth teased hers, licking, circling, his tongue imitating his slow strokes inside her body. He concentrated on every nuance of her body against his, her wet, velvety heat surrounding him, her heart beating against his.
He felt her tension slowly build, and he broke off their kiss, gritting his teeth to prolong their pleasure, but the battle was lost when she wrapped her legs around his hips and groaned his name. His strokes increased in pace, his hands gripped hers tighter. Burying his face against her fragrant neck, he tensed. His release shuddered through him, ripping a long, ragged groan from his chest.
A good minute passed before he found the strength to lift his head. When he did, he found himself looking down into her serious eyes. Eyes that reflected the same question that he knew shadowed his own: How were they going to ignore this when they returned to work on Tuesday?
He wanted to make a joke, lighten the mood, but he couldn't possibly. Not when he was still buried deep in her body. Not when he could feel her heartbeat pounding against his, when their fingers remained entwined, and her legs still gripped his hips.
'Wow,' she finally whispered, the ghost of a smile touching her lips. 'So, um, what's next on the dessert menu?'
'You can have anything you want.'
Her eyes darkened. 'That's the second time you've told me that.'
'And you still haven't claimed your prize from our snowball fight.'
'I haven't forgotten. I'm just waiting for the perfect moment.'
He shifted inside her, then groaned when her inner walls squeezed him. 'This feels pretty perfect to me.'
'Is there a statute of limitations on claiming my prize?'
'No.'
'Good. Then I'll hold off.' She grinned and stretched beneath him. 'Maybe wait till you trade in your Lexus for a Mercedes.'
'I think you're forgetting the 'within reason' part of the deal.'
'Maybe.' She wriggled her hands free, then stroked her fingers down his back. 'Now, about this offer that I can have anything I want next from the dessert menu-I do have a craving.'
He lowered his head and ran his tongue over her plump lower lip. 'If it's anything like what I'm craving, I think we're both in for a treat. Tell me what you want.'
'I want you and me in the bathtub, the bubble jets massaging us with warm water, while we feed each other the offerings from that lovely dessert platter and drink that chilled champagne. Whaddaya say?'
'I say we want the same things.'
Chapter 11
Jilly came awake slowly. She lay on her side, the comforter pulled up to her chin. Peeking one eye open, she noted the digital numbers on the alarm clock glowing 11:43 a.m. Thanks to the heavy velvet drapes, the room remained dark, but she didn't need to see-not when she could feel so much.
Matt, lying behind her, his body touching the length of hers, his legs pressing against the back of her thighs, one strong arm wrapped around her waist, his palm cupping her breast. His deep, even breaths brushing across her nape, and his chest hair tickling her shoulders.
Her eyes drifted closed, and she remained perfectly still, drinking in the sensation of his warmth pressed against her. Images of last night danced behind her eyelids, indelible images she knew would haunt her for a very long time. Of her and Matt laughing in the jet tub, feeding each other grapes and strawberries, sipping chilled champagne, then making love while the heated water swirled around them. Then moving their indoor picnic to the bed where they indulged in the delights hidden under the silver-domed plates. She was quite certain the chef at Le Cabernet Bistro hadn't meant for his exquisitely rich chocolate mousse to be enjoyed in the ways she and Matt discovered. They'd talked and laughed and loved until they'd finally fallen asleep.
And now that Monday had arrived, their interlude was over.
This was the last time Matt would ever hold her like this. The last time she'd ever feel his skin next to hers. An aching, heavy loss filled her. Did he feel that loss, too? Her throat tightened at the prospect of pretending he meant nothing to her when she saw him at work tomorrow. Was he dreading it as well? Or would he be able to forget the intimacies that had passed between them and be 'business as usual' at the office? She somehow doubted it. The way he'd looked at her, touched her, and made love to her, indicated he, too, felt some of this regret-or whatever this thing she was experiencing was called. He hadn't said so, but the emotion was there. In his eyes. In his touch. Wasn't it?
She hadn't asked. Was afraid to know. Was afraid his answer might be no, and then she'd feel like an idiot who'd let a weekend fling touch her heart instead of just her body. And if he said yes, he
No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than Matt stirred behind her. His fingers kneaded her breast, hardening her nipples. She arched back, pressing more fully against him, and a purr of pleasure vibrated in her throat.
'Good morning, gorgeous,' he whispered. His breath chased across her ear, shooting shivers of delight down
