“You can’t move,” I whispered against her mouth, swallowing her moans, trying to rein in the desire raging inside me, making sure I didn’t injure her further. “If you move, I’ll have to stop.”

She nodded, the movement jerky, her control, like mine, clearly hanging by a thread.

I released her lips, ducking my head and returning to her tits, taking the other nipple into my mouth, sucking her hard, my palm on her stomach holding her in place as she quivered beneath me, her belly dipping with each breath, every tremor that escaped her body.

I slid my hand lower, fingering the elastic band of her shorts, desperate to give her the release she craved. Despite her promise to stay still, she writhed under my hand, and I wondered how long it had been since someone had touched her. And because I was a selfish, possessive fuck, I wanted to obliterate the memory of anyone else.

My hand hovered between us, and I met her gaze, losing myself in those pretty brown eyes.

“What do you want?” I asked, needing to hear the words, needing her permission, her absolution. Needing an excuse for going somewhere I had no business heading with her. I couldn’t promise her that things would work out, couldn’t offer her strings, even though I was tied so tightly to her that I feared I didn’t know where she ended and I began. This was sex, and it was so much more, and the future loomed between us, a giant unknown.

“You know what I want. I want your fingers inside me. I want you to make me come.”

My hand slipped under the fabric, my fingers trembling at the need in her voice.

Kate gasped. “God, Matt.”

“Are you going to be a good girl?” I whispered, my voice teasing. “Are you going to stay still?”

Her eyes darkened, her lips parting, mouth swollen, skin flushed. Dirty and sweet. Mine.

“Y—yes.”

My heart hammered, my fingers gliding down her soft skin.

She was drenched.

I groaned as I dragged my fingers through her wetness, as my thumb found her clit and I rubbed her hard, a moan escaping her lips. I thrust two fingers inside of her, her pussy clenching down around my hand. So fucking tight. I remembered how good it had felt the first time we’d had sex, her body fitting over mine like a silken glove.

This wasn’t nearly enough, and for now, it felt like a promise between us. So much for just being friends. So much for willpower. So much for anything but this need, this connection that nothing could alter or shatter.

For now, this was everything.

I increased the pace of my thrusts, my gaze on her the entire time as she rode my hand until she came. Maybe it was the passage of time, but as crazy as it sounded, I could have sworn that was somehow, impossibly, even better than I’d remembered.

Kate stared back at me with a dazed expression, her body throbbing around me, my fingers still inside of her as I soaked up every last wave of her orgasm.

“I want to watch you,” she repeated.

Fuck me. After feeling her around me, I was ready, my orgasm just within reach.

I slid my fingers out of her, fisting my cock, covering myself in her silky wetness. God, this was going to be embarrassingly fast. She watched me the entire time, her expression sated, her gaze on my hand stroking up and down, twisting, my fist sliding over the head, dragging her wetness over the tip, imagining that it had been my cock fucking her rather than my fingers. I pumped my hand up and down, that pressure building again, and then I was coming in my hand—hard—my body shaking as I found the release I needed.

My body sagged against the bed, the orgasm wringing the last vestiges of restraint from me, my knees weak. I lay there for a moment, Kate stroking my chest, a feeling of complete and utter contentment that I hadn’t experienced in years filling me.

If I’d died, then this was heaven, this girl my own filthy angel.

Neither one of us spoke, as though words would profane the moment, as though we really had time traveled to a time and place when we could just be reduced to this. Minutes passed and then I rose from the bed, grabbing a towel from Kate’s bedroom, cleaning up before sliding under the covers next to her, feeling for the first time since I’d come back to D.C. like I’d really and truly come home.

Her hand reached out and found mine, our fingers linking together. I feel asleep with my hand in hers, and no dreams came.

She’d chased my nightmares away.

Chapter Seven

Rumor has it that Kate Reynolds is returning to the family fold …

—Capital Confessions blog

Kate

I woke to an empty bed, the pain in my side reminding me of yesterday, the slight ache between my legs a souvenir from last night.

There weren’t words for how amazing things had been between us. Weren’t words for how he made me feel. There would never be anyone else for me; I would never love anyone as much as I loved him.

I knew this had danger written all over it. Knew there was something wild in him that hadn’t been there before, that he wasn’t ready to give me more than his body, that somewhere along the way he’d hid his heart so he could get by. Maybe I’d done the same; as much as I knew what we were to each other, as much as I could face my feelings, I’d have been lying if I didn’t admit that I wasn’t wholly ready to throw myself back into what we’d been, that there was some survival instinct that held me back, that told me that in this case, going slow wasn’t the end of the world.

The loss of him had already destroyed me once; I wasn’t exactly eager to court that kind of heartbreak again. I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel, either.

As much as I hated to admit it, I was my father’s daughter. Maybe I wasn’t as ruthless as he was, but that didn’t mean that I hadn’t learned some valuable lessons at his knee. If you wanted something, you had to make it happen for yourself.

I wanted Matt. It might take us a while to get to a point where we trusted each other enough to let go, but if this was the opening to get us back to where we’d been before, then I’d take it.

All’s fair in love and war.

I got out of bed, wincing slightly, taking a couple more pain pills before heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get cleaned up. I heard the sounds of someone in my kitchen, and was definitely not ready to face Matt with unbrushed teeth and messy hair. Not after last night.

I cleaned up, my fingers lingering over the red marks on my breasts where his beard had abraded my skin, as I remembered the feel of his lips closing around my nipple, his teeth tugging on the tight bud, his tongue flicking back and forth.

I couldn’t wait until I was better and I could have him exactly how I wanted.

I left the bedroom, unable to keep the smile off of my face at the thought of seeing him again. He’d been home a little over twenty-four hours and I was right back where I’d always been. Head-over-heels in love.

I walked into the kitchen. “Come back to bed—”

I stopped short.

Blair stood in the kitchen, arranging a tray with juice and croissants. “Hey, you’re up.”

What the hell? Where was Matt?

“Um. Hi.” I gave her a hug, my gaze darting around the apartment. When had he left?

Blair gestured to the tray sitting on the countertop. “I was just bringing you some breakfast.”

“Thanks.” We’d gone to bed at around four a.m. It was now nine. How long had he been gone—and more importantly, was he coming back?

“So how long have you been here?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.

“Thirty minutes, maybe? I checked on you and you were fast asleep. I used my key. I hope that’s okay.” Blair cocked her head to the side, her gaze turning speculative. “You didn’t know it was me, did you?”

“Of course I knew it was you,” I sputtered. “Who else would it be?”