I don’t have the heart to tell him he’s the one making me tense. All the sexual tension that’s swirled between us for the last few weeks and months—it’s overwhelmed me.

The elevator doors slide open and Matt gives me a push so I exit with him right behind me. We go to his room, and I wait with jumpy anticipation as he slides the keycard into the slot, the little light above the handle turning green. He opens the door, and I trail behind him inside, a shocked gasp escaping me when he turns and presses me against the door.

His hands rest at my waist as he pins me in place, his head dipping toward mine. Our mouths meet. I exhale against his lips, feel him smile before he takes the kiss deeper and then there’s no time for breathing or thinking or saying a word.

All I can do is savor. Savor the sensation of his mouth on mine, his fingers digging into the fabric of my dress, my skin. The cool metal of the door is shocking against my backside, paired with the pure heat radiating from Matt’s big body as he steps in so close to me, he’s all I can see and feel and smell. His tongue thrusts, his hands tug at the fabric of my dress, lifting, lifting, until I feel cool air on my thighs and realize he’s pulling my skirt up.

I tear my lips from his, desperate for us to slow down. My brain needs to catch up with my body before I do something really crazy and stupid. “I thought you were going to show me your room.”

Matt drifts his mouth down the length of my neck, covering it in hot, wet little kisses. I grow slick between my legs with just his mouth pressed against my neck, and I clutch at him for fear I might fall. “I thought you said your room is exactly like mine,” he whispers against my skin.

“I’d still like to see it.” I press at his shoulders, trying to get him to back off just a little without having to say it. I need the space. I like having him in my space but still . . .

I’m not real good at this sort of thing. As in, I don’t have a lot of experience. Especially with a man surely as experienced as Matthew DeLuca—in his previous life as a ballplayer, he must’ve had beautiful women constantly throwing themselves at him.

He lifts his head, his dark gaze meeting mine, and then he drops his hands from my waist as he steps away. “Come on, then. I’ll show you around.”

I pull my skirt back into place as I follow him deeper inside the room, my legs still shaking from the potency of his kiss, his touch. The effect he has on me is so powerful, so unbelievably overwhelming, I’m not sure what to think, or how to think.

“So? Is it just like yours?” he asks as we approach the window that overlooks the city.

I glance around, notice the orchids, the bright pink throw across the foot of his bed, the sleek, glass furniture. “Definitely. It’s almost identical.”

“You must have a really great boss then,” he says, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. God, he’s sexy. “Putting you up in a fancy hotel like this.”

“He’s pretty great,” I say, my voice soft. “He’s smart, successful, extremely wealthy, but he never throws it around. In fact, I tend to forget he’s so well off.”

His smile fades and his expression goes serious. “Do you prefer that, Bryn? Does my—financial status intimidate you?”

I shrug, trying to push down my small-town-hick worries so they don’t rise to the surface like they always try and do when I talk money and status and wealth. “A little bit,” I admit.

It’s something I never even realized before. Matt can have anything he wants. Can go out and buy whatever he wants, he has so much money. He’s a billionaire for the love of God, yet I know he doesn’t live in a giant mansion, I’ve never seen him drive an outrageously fancy car beyond his sensible—but gorgeous—Range Rover. He’s not flashy, not outrageous, like I can only assume his father can be.

And I find that extremely attractive, how simply he lives. If he’d been such a blatant, wealthy man, like Archer Bancroft, who intimidates the shit out of me every time I’m around him, I don’t think I would’ve been able to handle Matt.

But he’s not like that at all. He’s gentle and kind and sweet and hardworking and sexy as all get out.

“Don’t let it.” He comes to me and presses his mouth to mine in a lingering, drugging kiss. “You did forget to mention one thing about me though.”

I frown up at him and give in to what I’ve wanted to do all night. I touch his face, span my fingers across his cheek, so I can feel the slightly rough prickle of his stubble against my palm. “What?”

“My charismatic good looks.” He grins, and I laugh, but he muffles my laughter in seconds with his mouth, kissing me so deliciously deep my head is spinning, my legs grow weak and I slump against him, lost in his taste and the way his arms grip me around my waist.

I pull out of his embrace without a word, and he lets me. I go to the window, desperate to gather my racing thoughts while I stare at the city spread out before me. Pressing my fingers against the cool glass, I gaze down and watch the bright lights of Times Square flash, the seemingly millions of people that fill the sidewalks, the cars, the streets.

“Your view is familiar,” I tell him from over my shoulder, smiling when I feel him stop just behind me, just like he did when we were in the elevator. But this time he doesn’t touch my shoulders.

He settles his big hands at my hips, giving them a firm squeeze before he lets them wander down across my backside. “Nervous?”

I close my eyes, losing myself in his assured touch, the way he squeezes and massages my skin. Everything inside me melts when he slowly tugs my skirt up, until the fabric is bunched just below my butt, my legs, my thighs completely exposed. “Yes,” I admit on a whisper.

“Don’t be. I’ll go slow,” he promises, and I believe him. “Christ, you’ve got the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen.” He grips my h*ps and pulls me toward him slightly, so I’m bent at the waist, my butt thrust out.

It’s overtly sexual, the way he has me positioned. And when he steps closer, my backside brushing against the front of his jeans, I bite my lip to keep a moan from spilling out.

“Move closer to the window,” he commands, and I do so keeping in position as best I can. His hands slip beneath the bunched fabric, touching my hips, and his fingers curl around the skimpy waistband of my panties. He pulls them down, over my butt, down my thighs and then I’m helping him, kicking them off while they get tangled around my shoes. I go to pull those off as well but his dark command stops me.

“Keep the shoes on.”

Oh. My.

Matt

HER PANTIES ARE solid white lace, a scrap of fabric that probably barely covered her, not that I’ll ever know now, since we tugged them off and they’re now lying discarded on the floor nearby.

Not that I’m protesting.

She’s a contradiction. Innocent yet sexy, with the face of an angel and a body made for sin. One minute she’s shy and acts inexperienced, the next she’s a laughing, sultry mistress who looks like she wants to devour me in one swallow.

I like it. I f**king love it and want to discover more about her, everything that she holds within, everything that makes her who she is. But she holds out on me. She told me bits and pieces of her past earlier at dinner. She’s a woman who’s run from her problems. She acts like she might run from me.

But I won’t let her. After tonight, she’ll know who she belongs to.

Me.

I’ve waited for this moment for far too long to prolong it further, so I grip her by her h*ps and grind against her, let her feel my hard c**k against her lush ass. She hangs her head down and moans, the agonized sound going straight to my dick and hell, I want to thrust in her now. Just fill her with my c**k and know what it’s like to finally be a part of her.

That’s what I seek. That connection—the union of our bodies and minds and souls. I want it, I f**king need it, and I grasp hold of the ends of her thick, dark hair, pulling gently until she lifts up, turns her head so I can kiss her with everything I have inside of me.

She gasps against my mouth, her arm curving around my head, keeping me close as our tongues thrust against one another, our bodies doing the same. I want to take her just like this. I know it’s not the most romantic position in the world, but at the moment, I’m not feeling very romantic.

I feel possessive. Like I want to mark her and let her know she’s mine. I break our kiss, help her tear off her dress and then she’s standing before me in a matching white lace bra, those sexy black heels and nothing else.

Damn, she’s gorgeous. I can see her pink nipples, hard and thrusting against the innocent white lace, her br**sts so full they threaten to spill out over her bra. “Take it off,” I say gruffly, pointing at her chest.

She does so without hesitation, her hands going behind her to undo the clasp and then the bra is gone, fluttering to the floor to join her panties. She’s standing before me completely na**d save for the shoes while I’m still fully dressed.

Fuck me, that it. I’m done for.

The million dollar bet be damned. I could give a shit if Archer or Gage find out I’ve been with Bryn. What’s done is done.

I have to have her.

Reaching behind me, I grab my wallet and flip it open, pulling out the single condom I keep nestled inside. I haven’t been with a woman in months. I’m f**king afraid I’ll come the moment I slide inside Bryn’s body but I close my eyes, breathe deep to try and keep my libido in check.

But it’s going to be so f**king hard.

“I want to f**k you right here,” I whisper as I step into her space, her na**d body pressed against the cool glass, my body pressed close to hers. “From behind, with you looking down at the view. Wondering if anyone can see us.”

She releases a trembling breath. “A-all right.”

“Does that bother you? Us ha**g s*x like this for the first time?” I kiss the top of her ear, the spot just behind it. Push her heavy hair aside so I can brush my mouth against her nape, along her shoulder. Her skin is soft, fragrant with the unique scent that drives me f**king wild, and I lean into her for a long, lingering moment, overwhelmed at what she does to me, how she makes me feel.

“No,” she says softly as she circles her hips, her ass brushing against my denim-covered erection. “I-I think I like it.”

I close my eyes, relieved that she’s given her permission. I don’t want to push, she’s fragile, I can tell, and no way am I going to screw up tonight.

I grasp her face with one hand and she turns toward me, our mouths colliding, tongues sliding against each other. With my other hand I fumble with my belt buckle, desperate to get it undone so I can unsnap my jeans and pull my c**k out. Roll the condom on and thrust inside her nice and slow, watching as I enter her body for the first time.

A full shiver moves through me and I break the kiss, trying to gain some control. “Brace your hands on the window,” I tell her and she does, spreading her legs, and I step back checking out the view of her pretty pink depths.

Groaning, I touch her there, sliding two fingers between her legs. She’s drenched, soaking wet, and I finish undoing my belt buckle, then tear open the button fly of my jeans. She’s thrusting against my fingers, subtle lifts of her hips, and I brush against her clit, hear her gasp and moan.

My quest to get out of my jeans momentarily forgotten, I stroke her deeper, thrusting my fingers inside her velvety hot channel, driving us both crazy with lust. I want to get her off with my fingers, want to watch her fall apart by my hand, and I start whispering dirty words in her ear. How much I want to f**k her, how wet she is, how good she feels. She tilts her head back, her eyes closed, her mouth open as she pants frantic little breaths and then she’s coming all over my fingers, her inner walls trembling, her entire body wracked with shudders.

I have to get inside her. Now.

Within seconds I have the condom on, and I slowly enter her still-trembling body, sliding deep, groaning as I fill her completely. She relaxes into me as I hold myself still, letting her get used to me being inside her, around her, holding her. Her back is covered in a light sheen of sweat, her fragrance even stronger as it fills my senses, and I slowly start to move.

In and out, my movements are shallow, teasing as I draw the moment out. Her h*ps start to move with my every thrust, and soon I’m increasing my pace, Bryn keeping up with me as she pushes back every time I push forward, taking me deep, deeper, until I can go no farther. I’m completely embedded in her.

I am hers. And she is mine.

“Harder,” she gasps when I slow down, that familiar tingling sensation at the base of my spine telling me I’m about to come and it’s going to be a big one.

“Baby, I go any harder, and I’m coming right now,” I confess through clenched teeth.

“That’s okay,” she whispers, turning her head to glance at me over her shoulder. Her expression is one of wonder and pure, unadulterated pleasure. “Please, Matt.”

She doesn’t need to beg. I grip her h*ps and begin to move within her in earnest. Again and again, harder and harder until I’m coming, her name falling from my lips as I erupt again and again, my orgasm strong as I go still above her, unable to move, only able to revel in the exquisite sensation of coming inside Bryn for the first time.

Chapter Twelve

Matt

I AM ON top of the f**king world. I fell asleep with Bryn in my arms, her na**d body wrapped all around mine, her fragrant hair in my face. We woke up twice in the middle of the night, coming together easily, so easily, both times. The first was by my initiative, when I started kissing her down the length of her body, between her legs, until I had her writhing and coming apart beneath my lips and tongue.