At Last

Matt turned toward his truck and Amy. He was head-to-toe filthy. He had a tear in one knee and another on his elbow. He was sweaty.

And he looked like the best thing she’d ever seen.

He ambled back over and slid behind the wheel, pulling out of the clearing and back onto the fire road as if nothing had just happened. Like it was an everyday thing to drag bad guys off his mountain and engage in hand-to- hand combat.

And hell, maybe it was.

Clearly, he knew what he was doing. Protecting himself and Sawyer, and by extension her as well, had been as second nature as breathing. Not for the first time, she wondered about all he’d seen and done and how it’d molded him into the man he was, so laid-back and quick to smile and yet ready for battle at all times.

She also wondered why the hell she felt so on edge right now, like she was going to die if he didn’t grab her and kiss her. Strip her. Take her.

“You okay?” he asked, making her jump. He swiveled his head to look over at her, and their eyes held. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the vehicle, not even close, as the tension rose. It was a good kind of tension, the kind that had her squeezing her thighs together. Was she okay? She had no idea, but her insides were quivering, her hands itching with the need to lay them on him. “That was actually my question for you,” she managed.

His gaze never left hers. “You’re shaking.”

Yeah, she was. Every part of her. “I was scared for you.” She hugged herself. “Which is ridiculous, since like you said, you’re good at taking care of yourself.” Something they had in common.

They were on a deserted road, hidden from all sides by trees so thick she couldn’t see beyond them. Still trembling, and greatly annoyed, she stared out the window, gasping in surprise when Matt pulled off the road. Turning to her, he slid a hand along the back of her seat, palming her neck. “It’s okay, Amy. Everything’s okay.”

Feeling stupid for her shocked reaction, she nodded and drew in a shaky breath, but his touch had only accelerated her heart rate. She didn’t know what to feel, or do. She wanted to jump over the console and personally search every inch of him for injury. She also wanted to rip off his clothes and climb on top of him. “Matt.”

“Yeah?”

“I need-” Breaking off, she closed her eyes.

“What do you need, Amy?”

“You.”

A low sound escaped him, and then his other hand joined the fray, cupping her face, gliding down her arms, pulling her toward him.

She wasn’t exactly sure what happened next, whether she’d done as she’d thought about and climbed over the console, or if he actually lifted her, but then she was straddling him, and nothing else mattered.

He was holding her above himself, trying to keep her from touching him. “Wait-I’m all dirty and sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

With a groan, he hauled her in close, kissing her long and deep.

He was right; he was hot and dirty. And he was real, more so than anyone she knew, and in turn he made her feel real. She forgot that they were stuffed together in his driver’s seat, that the steering wheel was pressing into her back, or that anyone could come upon them. She only knew a need for this man so close against her, his scent, his taste, and she rocked into him.

Beeeeeep, went the horn when she knocked against it, startling her into jerking upright, where she banged her head on the visor.

Laughing softly, Matt cupped her head in one big palm, rubbing it. Then he sighed against her neck and dumped her back onto her side of the vehicle.

“Hey,” she said.

“Not here.”

“Why not? We’re on a date.”

With a rueful smile, he adjusted himself. “Is that what you think a date is about? Sex?”

“Well… yeah.”

He shook his head. “Even if that was true, there’s not enough room in this truck for what I want to do to you.”

Her nipples tightened even more. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

“Sweetheart, when I start teasing you, you’ll know it.”

She shuddered in anticipation. She knew him now, knew the magic of his touch. She knew he could back up that cocky statement with shocking ease.

“I need to go change,” Matt said.

“Are you going to tell me what happened back there?”

He looked at her, assessing, and she held his gaze, seeing the concern in it. Was he worried she was too fragile to hear about his work? Had his ex been that way? Because Amy was as far from fragile as she could get. “I want to hear about it,” she said. “I’d really like to know.”

“Not too long ago, we made that big drug bust I told you about,” he said. “We found some of the principals and what we thought was all the drugs. Wrong on both accounts.”

So casual. But what she’d seen had been anything but casual. It’d been like something right out of a movie. “You and Sawyer took on four guys,” she said. “Four huge guys.”

“We’ve faced worse.”

That thought gave her a shiver as he pulled up to his cabin.

“I’m sorry I screwed up our date,” he said.

She shook her head. “You didn’t.”

“I’ll shower and change real quick,” he promised, and left her in his living room while he vanished into his bedroom.

Through the open door, Amy heard the thunk of his shoes being kicked off one by one, and then the shower came on. She tried not to think about him stripping down to skin and failed. To distract herself, she looked around. The first time she’d been here, she hadn’t had time to take it all in, what with the jumping of each other’s bones and all.

He had running shoes half under the couch, a newspaper scattered on the coffee table. Next to the front door was a baseball bat and mitt. A laptop sat on the couch.

This wasn’t just a place where Matt hung his hat at night. He lived here.

Had he loved here?

She was surprised at the yearning to know. His shower turned off. Next came the sound of a drawer opening and then some rustling.

“We missed our reservations,” he called out to her. “But maybe they’ll still take us anyway.”

It would be at least a forty-five minute drive, and undoubtedly a wait, and while she imagined the food would be worth it, she didn’t want the fancy dinner, the crowd, the candles and dancing thing. “We could just eat here,” she said.

A beat of silence, and then he appeared in the doorway wearing low-slung Levi’s.

And nothing else.

He held a shirt in his hands as his eyes met hers. “You want to stay here?”

His hair was wet and had been barely finger-combed, leaving it standing up and spiky. He smelled like soap and shampoo and himself. And he hadn’t been all that efficient with a towel either because his chest was damp.

And so was she. “I’ll cook,” she said, thinking she was already cooking, from the inside out.

He followed her into his kitchen. “You don’t like to cook.”

Actually, she liked to cook just fine. She just wasn’t all that good at it. But she did have one specialty. “If you have bread and cheese and a pan, we’re in business.”

He shrugged into his shirt, and she wished he hadn’t. Eating grilled cheese with the spectacular view of his chest and abs would’ve been better than any dessert she could have whipped up.

He stepped close, his eyes dark and heated. “I like where your thoughts just went.”

“Did I say them out loud?” she asked, startled.