“I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
He took another step that brought him within kissing range, and she still hadn’t backed up. “Maybe, a little. So I take it you’re here to learn the truth about Cat Guys?”
“Um, yeah, kind of.” Her eyes went wide and dark, and a blush crawled up her cheeks that was so sexy and adorable it almost made him groan out loud.
“You’re a funny girl, Courtney Wallace.”
“Not really. The thing is…it’s been years since I’ve kissed a guy who was moving into his first apartment.”
He dipped his head. “Are you gonna bring up that age thing again?”
She shook her head. “No. Yes. I—”
“Make up your mind.”
“Yes,” she said on a puff of air, but she didn’t move away from him. If anything, she swayed a little in his direction.
He smiled. “See, I knew the answer all along.” He slanted his head and moved in.
Courtney froze, enthralled by the heavy-lidded look in Matt’s gaze. The outcome of this chase was no longer in doubt. The irony, of course, was that she’d put herself at his mercy.
Would he live up to expectations? Or would he turn out to be like so many other guys, selfish, in a hurry, and essentially clueless about sex.
Courtney could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times any guy had given her an orgasm. So, really, the odds were stacked against her.
But she’d never taken a Hook-up Artist to bed. And she’d never even dreamed that a Hook-up Artist could simultaneously be a Cat Guy. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?
She didn’t move as he advanced, and when his lips finally met hers, she surrendered. His kiss started out as soft as a butterfly’s wing, sweet as nectar, and strangely unsatisfying.
Damn. She hadn’t knocked on his door for sweet kisses. She’d come to see if Matt was capable of giving her the full monty. So she took the offensive, stepping into the kiss as she cupped the back of his head. The silky texture of his hair brushed along her palms as his body heat overwhelmed her. Her pulse roared in her ears as she parted her lips and invited him in.
All at once, the sweet, soft kiss morphed into something fiercely carnal. Matt spiraled in, his tongue circling and dancing instead of invading. Holy crap, he really knew how to kiss.
And he tasted good. He smelled even better—an intoxicating blend of woodsy soap and man. She ran her hands down over the hard bones and muscles of his shoulders and then rocked up to get better traction. He rewarded her with a deep, inarticulate grunt that made her burn more fiercely. Nothing turned her on more than knowing that she’d turned on some guy. It felt like a validation in some deep part of her psyche.
She fell into that kiss and lost all sense of time and place. She wanted it to go on forever and almost mourned when he pulled away. But then he linked smaller kisses and nips down across her jaw to the corner of her neck, right below her earlobe.
He nuzzled her there, his tongue still drawing lazy circles, igniting an inferno inside her that threatened to melt every single one of her bones. It was her time to cry out, but even that release did nothing to diminish the coiled energy that Matt’s kisses created inside her.
Suddenly, he was too far away.
“I want to feel you,” she murmured, as her hands journeyed down his back, over the bumps in his spine to the bottom of his T-shirt. She continued the exploration under the soft cotton, splaying her palms on the warm skin of his back for a moment, before she drew the shirt’s hem up so she could touch his chest. He was hard muscled, all male, with just the right amount of chest hair.
Matt undid her dress’ zipper and then drew the shoulders down her arms so he could link more kisses over her clavicle. She wiggled out of the dress, letting it fall around her ankles.
She expected him to move in on her breasts like an invading army. Guys always did that. But not Matt. Instead he concentrated on that spot right below her ear, while his hands seemed to be counting the bumps in her backbone.
Damn. Her breasts ached for his touch, but he seemed intent on denying them. She ought to say something. But she didn’t. She held back, like she always did. Afraid that the moment her breasts were exposed, he’d lose interest in everything else. And right now that thing he was doing to her neck was so nice.
Maybe she should take the initiative. That would be different. It seemed like the right thing to do, so she reached for the button on his jeans. Then she dipped her fingers below his waistband. His breath caught, and she wondered if she should stop.
No. She was going to take charge this time. So she drew down the zipper, a move that elicited a soft, erotic groan that made her feel strangely powerful. That feeling didn’t last very long because, in the next instant, she found herself shoved up against the door as he ground himself against her.
She could have predicted that result, but for some reason, it felt good to have him pressed up against her. Almost perfect, but not quite.
“Take off your shirt,” she whispered. He complied, tossing the garment over his shoulder into the pile of cardboard boxes. His chest was wide and solid and utterly drool-worthy.
“Nice,” she said.
This earned her a cocky grin. She glanced into his espresso eyes, blown away by the dark fire she saw in them. He was beautiful and aroused. She ran two fingers down along his jaw, his stubble abrading her fingertips, until she found the pulse point at the base of his neck. She didn’t bother counting the beats. She’d checked enough pulses to know that his heart was racing about as fast as hers.
He moved
