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I hesitated for only a second before stepping aside. Fuck it, I thought. Why the hell not? It had been two months of celibacy after Ben, and here was this gorgeous man practically gift-wrapped on my doorstep. Two weeks and he'd be gone—what harm could one night do?

"Nice room," he said as he stepped inside, though his eyes never left mine.

"It's not mine," I reminded him, closing the door softly. "Just borrowing it."

"Still." He glanced around at the plush furnishings, the king-sized bed with its rumpled sheets. "Better than a hotel."

We stood there for a moment, the air between us charged with possibility. I was acutely aware of my body's reaction to his presence—the quickening of my pulse, the heat pooling low in my belly, the way my skin seemed hypersensitive even though he wasn't touching me.

"I should probably apologize," Matt said finally, running a hand through his already-tousled hair. "This is... I don't usually do this. Show up at a woman's door in the middle of the night."

"And yet here you are," I said, crossing my arms over my chest, partly to appear nonchalant and partly to hide the fact that my nipples had hardened against the thin fabric of my tank top.

"Here I am," he agreed. His eyes darkened as they dropped briefly to my crossed arms before returning to my face. "I can go if you want."

"Do I look like I want you to go?"

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Hard to tell. You're a bit of a mystery, Geri."

"Says the guy who showed up at my door in his underwear."

He laughed, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. "Fair point."

Another moment of silence stretched between us, but this one was different—less uncertain, more anticipatory.

"You're possibly the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Matt said suddenly, his voice dropping to a register that made my stomach flip.

Before I could respond—before I could even process the sincerity in his eyes—he closed the distance between us, one hand coming up to cup my face. "Can I kiss you again?"

In answer, I rose onto my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his.

The kiss was different from our earlier ones—more urgent, less restrained. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me flush against his body, and I could feel every hard plane of muscle against my softer curves. My hands explored the expanse of his back, tracing the lines of his tattoos, feeling the way his muscles shifted beneath my touch.

When his tongue swept into my mouth, I moaned, the sound swallowed by our kiss. His hands slid down to my hips, gripping firmly before one ventured lower to cup my ass. The move pulled me even closer, and I could feel his arousal pressing against my stomach, impressive even through the barrier of his boxers.

"Bed," I gasped when we broke apart for air. "Now."

He didn't need to be told twice. In one fluid motion, he lifted me, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist ashe carried me the few steps to the bed. He laid me down gently, following me down but supporting his weight on his forearms.

"You're sure about this?" he asked, his eyes searching mine.

"I'm sure," I said, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. "Are you?"

His answer was another kiss, this one slower but no less intense. His body covered mine, a delicious weight that made me feel both protected and desired. I ran my hands over his shoulders, down his arms, marvelling at the strength there, at the contrast between his hard body and the gentleness of his touch.

When his lips left mine to trail down my neck, I tilted my head back, giving him better access. He took full advantage, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin, finding spots that made my breath catch and lingering there.

"You smell amazing," he murmured against my collarbone. "Like vanilla and something else... something just you."

His hands slid under my tank top, calloused palms rough against my smooth skin. When his thumbs brushed the undersides of my breasts, I arched into his touch, silently begging for more.

"Can I take this off?" he asked, tugging gently at the hem of my top.

I nodded, sitting up slightly to help him remove it. The cool air of the room pebbled my nipples further, and Matt's sharp intake of breath was gratifyingly ego-boosting.

"Fuck," he breathed, his eyes roaming over my exposed chest. "You're perfect."

Before I could protest—I was far from perfect, with my small breasts and the scar on my ribs from a childhood accident—he lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my core, and I couldn't help the moan that escaped me.