Summer Love by Piper Rayne
Chapter Three
Being with Matteo made her feel strong, sexy, vibrant…beautiful.
It was intoxicating.
And it made her want to shed her bitterness and become the woman he imagined her to be. Not some distant day in the future. But right now.
After an exhausting day at the Design Expo in Chicago, they’d come back to the hotel and collapsed in a booth in the lobby restaurant.
Now, finished with dinner, he pushed his plate away. “What a crazy day.”
“Can I get you two anything else?” the waiter asked. “A nightcap? We’re known for our White Russians.”
“I’ll pass,” Matteo said. “Just the check, please.”
The young man set the leather billfold down. “Have a great night.”
As Matteo signed the bill, she said, “You know you can drink around me, right?”
He batted a hand dismissively. “When it comes to booze, I can take it or leave it.”
It was common knowledge that she didn’t drink alcohol, but she never wanted people to feel uncomfortable around her. “Okay, but just so you know I don’t have a problem with people drinking or getting drunk. It’s just a personal thing. But, yeah, today was crazy. Expos are like that. The good thing is you figured out what you like.”
“When I said modern, I didn’t know it meant bleak.”
She laughed, remembering his reaction to a white, oval bathtub in an all-white bathroom, a silver mirror the only break in color and texture. They’d seen living rooms with nothing but a couch, a plant, and one modern art piece on a wall, the rest of the space empty and clean. In that one, he’d cocked his head and asked, “Should we come back when they’re finished setting up?”
“That bathtub felt like a punishment,” he said. “‘Go to your room, strip off your garments, and you’ll be dunked in the bleached water.’”
She laughed. “I can totally see that.” Turns out, he liked rustic with a modern edge.
So do I.
This is going to be so much fun.
“It helps that we’re on the same page.” He reached for his water goblet, idly rubbing the condensation with a thumb. “Because I won’t be around much longer.” His gaze flicked up and caught hers, as though checking her reaction.
Well, she wasn’t happy about it. She’d loved every minute with him these past three weeks. Living together in the ranch house, they’d take turns cooking, spend time sitting side by side on the couch, laptop perched on his knees as they scrolled design sites for ideas. They hiked every day, laughed all the time. After dinner, they’d sit on the patio and watch the spectacle of lights in a sky that turned from robin’s egg blue to twilight purple to black with a dazzling array of twinkling stars.
She’d had such a great time, she’d forgotten he’d leave for training camp in July, and she wouldn’t see him again until February.
She would miss him fiercely.
“You mind if I ask why you don’t drink?” he asked.
“Not at all. When I was a kid, my parents had totally different lives. My dad worked in a bank, and my mom was a secretary at our school. They were both miserable, and they drank too much. They weren’t falling down drunks or anything, but I didn’t like it. It scared me. They were mean and sad. It was just a really uncomfortable home life back then.”
“When did your mom become a fly-fishing guide?”
“I was eleven. Actually, I remember the exact day.” She smiled at the memory. “I was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of milk and a bag of peanut butter pretzels, and my mom walked in the door two hours earlier than usual. I was freaking out. I wasn’t allowedto eat snacks, and she never came home early. But she didn’t even notice. She dumps her purse on the table and goes, ‘I quit. I’m done.’ Of course, the only thing on my mind at the time was hiding the pretzels.”
“I can relate to that. I’ve got six brothers and sisters, and it was always a fight for the junk food. On the rare occasion my parents brought something home—chips, pretzels, cookies—I’d nab a few and hide them in my hoodie pockets.” He tipped his chin. “So that’s it? She just decided there and then?”
“Oh, it was quite a scene. My dad flipped out when she told him. They had four kids, and they needed her income for college. And my mom was all, ‘Fuck it. Let ‘em get student loans like the rest of the world. I’m not selling my soul one more day.’ My dad was pissed. ‘What’re you going to do? Sit around and watch reality TV?’ And she gets all huffy and says, ‘I’ll do whatever the hell I want to do.’”
“That went over well.”
“My dad lost it. ‘And what do you want to do, Erin?’ And in this high and mighty tone, she goes, “Maybe I’ll go fly fishing every damn day.’ And I swear to God they looked at each other, and the room went dead quiet. I will never forget seeing my older brother, Caleb, standing in the doorway, watching this whole fight play out. We had no idea what was going to happen—were they going to divorce? Would my mom give in and get her job back? And then all of a sudden, my parents burst out laughing—like the maniacal kind—and my dad goes, ‘You’re going to be a fly-fishing guide.’ And my mom nods and says, ‘I’m going to be a fly-fishing guide.’ Because that’s literally what they did with their weekends and vacations—they were outside hiking, fishing, rafting. That was the whole point of living in Calamity, Wyoming.”
“Great story. I love it. So, your dad quit, too?”
“Not right away. He stuck it out at the bank for another year, but then he got a job at an outfitter in town. He leads white water rafting expeditions.”
They shared a knowing look. “So, they’ll come work for me once I get my eco-tourism ranch going?”
She smiled. “I can’t wait to ask them.”
As he took her in, his chest rose on a deep breath, and his eyes grew hot and lustful. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Equal parts fear and excitement churned, gaining speed, sending her into a tailspin. But she liked him too damn much to hold back when he kept putting himself out there. “And you’re fucking gorgeous. You know that, right? As gorgeous inside as you are on the outside.”
His features sharpened with intention as he slid out of his side of the booth and landed next to her. With not a moment’s hesitation, he kissed her, his mouth hot, possessive, his tongue licking inside and teasing hers into play.
When his hand gripped the back of her head, a rush of pleasure seized her—so strong goosebumps erupted all over her body.
To be loved by this man—to be wanted by him—God, it was thrilling.
He kissed her with hunger, with possession, and she wanted more of him. He gripped her thigh, fingers dipping between her legs, his pinky grazing the gusset of her panties. Her body went hot and electric, and she jerked, her elbow smacking the table.
It jarred her right out of the moment. Pulling away, she tilted her forehead against his chin. “What’re we doing?”
“What I’ve waited a very long time to do.”
He smelled so good, a masculine scent that slid into her bloodstream and made her burn. “We can’t do this. Matteo, we work together.”
Cupping the back of her neck, he tilted her head and looked her right in the eyes. “You’re fired.”
“Goodnight.” Quinn lingered outside her hotel room door.
He didn’t answer, just stood there, hands at the ready by his sides, looking at her like a lion waiting to pounce on its prey,
Her pulse fluttered out of control, and she was having a hard time taking a full breath. “What time’s our flight in the morning?”
The play of his muscles beneath that dark gray T-shirt, the scent of his aftershave, made her desperate to pull off his clothes and get a look at him in all his naked splendor. She’d never seen a body like his in person. On the cover of romance novels, sure, fitness models on Splashagram…all the time. But her hands never itched to caress those chests, and her body never strained to feel the heat of those men, as they hovered over her, their cocks pressing inside—
She shivered.
And Matteo noticed. She was sure of it, because his nostrils flared, and his fingers flexed.
“Not till one. Figured we could grab breakfast and check out the Art Institute.”
See?She nearly threw herself at him. Because it wasn’t just his body. It was his kindness.
He tensed, like he was about to reach for her but stopped himself. “What? What’s wrong?”
Emotion reared like a tide—that long, tense moment as it pulls back, dragging on the sand, before charging forward in a powerful wave that crashes onto the shore. “Nothing.”
“You look like you’re going to cry.”
“No. It’s just…that’s really nice of you.”
“What, the museum?”
She nodded. “But not just that. Hiring me. Buying the property so I could start a career. I mean, who does that? It’s huge, what you did. Ridiculous, really.”
“He should have done it. I don’t care if you told him you didn’t want anything, he should have given you fifty percent. Even if it meant moving to a less expensive apartment and selling the car he keeps in a garage. He should’ve given you enough cash to get you started in your own business.”
“Okay, but I’m certainly not your responsibility.”
Shifting his weight to his other foot, he said, “Maybe not, but I really don’t give a shit. Because from the moment I met you, I felt this connection. I looked into your eyes and—swear to God—I heard this voice that said, It’s her. She’s the one. You were married, so I tried my damnedest to ignore it, but…I just knew you were mine.”
The things this man said…his certainty about her…it just sent a wave of jubilation through her. “You never acted like it.”
“Of course not. I would never—”
“Cheat?” She smiled.
“I’d never flirt with someone’s wife. But even if I couldn’t have you, I still wanted to be near you. You’re special, Quinn, and I was happy just to be in the same room with you. Remember when Keith totaled his car, the press was all over him that night, and he crashed at your place?”
She nodded.
“You’d worked your regular job that day, taken a catering gig at night, and you walked in the door, sized up the situation, and got to work. You got rid of the booze, made pasta and salad and brownies, and then, after everyone else crashed, you sat up talking to him. I don’t know what you said to him, because I was up in the loft, but the next day he was a changed man.”
“He didn’t change because of anything I said, I can promise you that. He got scared. Coach threatened to boot him from the team.”
He finally took a step closer, warming her with an affectionate smile. “You’re wrong. Coach yells at us all the time. Nothing new about his threats. Know what was different that night? Having someone who cared about him and not his fame or money. Someone who gave a shit. And the other thing about you? You didn’t lecture him about drinking or screwing up. You asked him questions about his life, his past.”
“I thought you said you didn’t hear anything?”
“I might’ve heard a thing or two.” He grinned wide, making those dimples pop. “But I know you, and I’ve seen you in action. You don’t judge. You listen. You get people to see the why behind the shit they pull.” The backs of his fingers brushed across her cheek. “Know what else I like about you? You figure out what people like and you give it to them. Remember when I spent the holidays with you guys? It was my first Christmas away from my family. There were all these people sitting around the table, talking, laughing, and I’ll never forget when you put your hand on my shoulder. Your pretty hair”—he wiggled his fingers like a waterfall—“spilled down my chest, and you set a plate of buñuelos down next to me.”
“Oh, right. I’d overheard you talking to your mom. You said you’d miss her buñuelos.”
“Yep, but I didn’t have to miss anything, because you made them for me.”
“They’re just deep-fried pastry. It was no big deal.” It kind of was, though, given all the other food she’d had to prepare for sixteen people. But his expression had made it all worth it.
“Yeah. It was.”
She’d fought the magnetic pull of him for so long her muscles ached. Two steps and she could be in his arms, and what a relief it would be to stop fighting, resisting what seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
Why was she fighting so hard when she craved this connection? What would it feel like to be loved by this man?
She closed the gap between them, her hands resting lightly on his chest. He stiffened, watching her, and she loved how well he could read her, could see she was still unsure.
God, he smelled good. He lived in Seattle, so she didn’t know what it was about him that reminded her of a hike on a perfect June day—pine needles on the trail, fresh, crisp air whisked down from snow-capped mountain peaks. Desire broke through her restraint, and she curled her fingers into his shirt and tipped her head back in invitation.
He swooped right in, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss so sweet, it heated her blood and made her knees weak. His arms came up, his fingers gently lifting the hair off her shoulders and smoothing it down her back. “I love your hair.”
More kissing, please.
“It smells like flowers, and I’ve wanted to get my fingers in it as long as I’ve known you. I want to wrap it around my fist while I’m fucking you from behind. Can I do that, Quinn Ellison?”
The shock of his words did what her brain hadn’t been able to do. It released her. She could actually feel the bindings snap. “You can do anything you want to me.”
That was all Matteo needed to hear. With one hand gripping her upper arm, he pulled his key card out of his pocket and let them into his room. The moment the door closed, she was off her feet, her back against the wall, and his strong thigh pushing between her legs, holding her up.
He kissed her—all the sweetness gone. His mouth claimed hers, his hunger rousing her into a frenzy. She was frantic for more of him—all of him at once. Her hips rocked, her hands gripped his shirt, lifting it, trying to get it over his head so she could finally feel his skin. She needed more. More friction, more of his body—she needed to feel him everywhere.
Wriggling, she pushed at his shoulders, and he set her down. The moment she landed, he reached for the back of his neck and yanked his shirt off. He lunged for her, kissing kissing kissing, while he ripped open the buttons of his jeans.
Kicking off her flats, she pulled up her dress and flung it aside. Right as she reached behind for her bra clasp, he grabbed her arm.
“Wait.” He took her in, a slow scan from her breasts to her hips, all the way down to her pink-painted toes. Color flooded his cheeks, and the muscle in his jaw popped. “I’ve waited a long time for this moment.” He let out a slow breath saturated with lust and desire and awe. Cupping her breasts, he pushed them together, and then he lowered his face into her plump cleavage. His thumbs idly stroked her nipples, as he pressed hot kisses, and she felt the sizzle all the way down to the soles of her feet.
“God, Matteo.” She gripped fistfuls of his hair. “I can’t take it anymore.”
“You’re gonna take it. You told me I can do whatever I want, and I want to take my time. I want to touch every inch of your body, I want to taste you, and I want to watch when you come on my tongue.” He peeled back a lacy cup, exposing the peaked nipple. Holding her gaze, he flicked his tongue across it.
She hissed in a breath, her chest rising and falling in short, quick pants.
He closed his mouth over it, sucking, licking, and she tightened her hold, so he’d never ever stop making her feel good. She was burning, the pulse between her legs so insistent it ached. “Take it off. Take off my bra.”
Instead, he slid a hand under the waistband of her panties, the tip of one finger grazing her clit. She gasped, pulling his hair. “Matteo.”
“Yeah, baby. That’s what I want to hear. My name in your mouth.”
Peeling her panties off, he got down on his knees and nudged her legs apart. Her body trembled, and she’d never felt so alive, so erotically charged. Still watching her, he licked her clit—slow, sensuous—and she thought she was going to die of pleasure.
“Someone stole your happiness from you, and I want to give it back. All of it and more.”
This man. She dropped to her knees, threw her arms around his neck, and let him know with her mouth and tongue how much she wanted him, how he made her dizzy with happiness. Most of all, how he brought her back to her very best self.
And then he tipped her onto the floor, a strong hand gripping her knee and shifting her, so he could move between her legs. With a hand on each thigh, he spread them, his tongue licking the hot, slick length of her. Back arching, she ground herself against his mouth. A flashfire swept over her, and she was lost in everything Matteo.
His tongue circling her clit, he slid two fingers inside her, finding the sensitive patch that made her cry out. In her fevered state, she lost her sense of place and time, consumed by Matteo’s broad shoulders, the powerful bulge and flex of his biceps, and the relentless hunger of his touch.
“I’m not going to last…Oh, God.” She was coming. And it was bigger than anything she’d ever experienced. There was no way to prepare herself for the impact. “Matteo.” The fuse lit, fire blazed a path through her veins. She writhed, her body seizing, spiraling into a weightless state of pure bliss.
Before she could catch her breath, he gathered her into his arms, lifted her off the floor, and carried her to bed. Gently setting her down, he grabbed a condom from the wallet in his jeans and tore it open.
Just the sight of him standing beside the bed, towering over her in all his hard-bodied glory, set her pulse racing. She had no words, so she reached for his thigh, loving the heat and strength of him.
He stroked his cock. “I never thought I’d get to be with you. I’d resigned myself to a life on the sidelines. So, for me, this moment?” His breath hitched. “I’ve had a lot of good things happen in my life, but nothing compares to finally getting the girl.”
Frantic with need, she sat up, batting his hand away, and took his hard cock into her mouth. He was so hot, so big…he just made her wild with want. She sucked him in deep, licked him lavishly, reveling in the desperation in his eyes, the grip on her head as he pulled her closer. Those powerful hips pumped, and she loved that he didn’t hold back. There was something so freeing about being with a man who wasn’t tentative, who knew what he wanted and took it.
Yes, that’s what was exciting her beyond reason.
He knows what he wants.
And it’s me.
“Stop.” He pulled out of her mouth, squeezing his cock before unrolling the condom onto it. Tipping her back, he got on the bed, opened her legs wider with his knees, and then braced his hands on either side of her head. She expected him to plunge right in. Instead, he gazed into her eyes, a slow smile spreading. “My beauty.”
Scraping her fingers through his hair to push it off his face, she felt him press into her—a gentle thrust and retreat, each move gaining him slightly deeper entry. When she wiggled her hips and grabbed his hard ass to get him moving, he chuckled.
“Once I’m inside you, it’s going to be fast and hard, so you’re just going to have to let me enjoy my fantasy.”
“Matteo, seriously. You’re surrounded by gorgeous women everywhere you go. How am I your fantasy? I’m just a small town girl living in a lonely world.”
“You did not just put that song in my head.”
In a whisper, she sang, “I took the midnight train going anywhere.”
“That’s our anthem now. You know that, right?”
She laughed. “A Journey song? Uh, no way.”
But he shut her up when his hips punched, and he slammed all the way inside her. And then, he was fucking her in earnest.
Every cell in her body lit up like an arcade. Clutching his ass, she met his thrusts, crying out every time he bottomed out, rocking her farther up the bed. She needed him deeper, harder, she needed to absorb everything he was into her body and soul.
“Oh, fuck, Quinn. Jesus.” He sat back on his heels, grabbing her hips and hauling her up on his thighs. “Gotta see you.” Features tight in concentration, he drove back into her. “Your tits.” But he couldn’t reach for them, not when his hands were busy moving her body on and off his cock.
It was the hottest moment of her life, to be used for this confident, powerful man’s pleasure, to see him come apart at the bounce of her breasts, the fan of her hair on the bedspread. He seemed out of his mind with lust, and it was just so empowering.
But she needed it harder, and she couldn’t do that from this position, so she flipped over, got up on her knees, and tossed him a look over her shoulder.
Gaze riveted on her, he clasped her hips and slammed back into her. The pace turned frantic, as their bodies slapped, their cries mingling. He leaned over, reaching for her breast, holding its weight, and then squeezing, pinching her nipple.
Raw, unbridled pleasure jolted through her, and her body exploded in a shower of fiery sparks. She slammed back hard and ground herself against him.
“Fuck.” He held her tight to his body, releasing in short, hard, desperate thrusts.
And when he was spent, he collapsed onto the mattress, wrapping an arm around her, and tucking her in close to his body. With a fingertip, he shifted the sweaty tendrils of hair off her forehead and gave a sigh of utter contentment.
And then his eyelids fluttered closed, and she knew he would drop into a heavy sleep.
But she wouldn’t.
She couldn’t.
Not when her body was buzzing.
And her mind was spinning, leaving her wide awake.
What have I done?
Was it the best sex of her life? Yes.
Did it feel amazing to have a guy like Matteo, one of most celebrated football players in history, want her with such gusto? You bet.
He said all the right things, and his touch spoke her language…but how long would it last?
He’d leave for training camp in a matter of weeks. He’d be back in his world, away from their little cocoon on the ranch.
And she’d be left with another broken heart.
And she just couldn’t go through that again.
