Page 15 of No Knight (My Kind of Hero #3)

Matt suddenly pulls my body flush with his. My hand falls to his chest, the muscle and sinew underneath reacting deliciously to my touch.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. Don’t wanna make things too easy for you,” I whisper, tracing my thumb over a button on his shirt.

“You prefer to make it hard?”

A heady anticipation floods my veins as he gently tilts my head.

“Innuendo much?” I find myself whispering.

“You started it.”

“I—”

He swallows the rest of my response as our lips meet in a kiss that’s light and teasing.

Notes of whiskey and champagne, lips lingering before those kisses deepen, until they’re filled with aching and promise.

His thigh suddenly comes tight between my legs, tenderness traded for hot breath and a desperate sort of gracelessness.

He feels so hard and so real as my fingers run over him, when he grips my butt and my back hits the wall.

No, not a wall. A door.

We should stop. But the words are only in my head, our mouths fused and my knee sliding up his thigh. My hands twist his shirt and slide through his hair, greedy and grasping.

Then, from somewhere, comes the sound of a lock turning over.

I’m too far gone to care where or why when Matt pulls his mouth from mine and slides me unceremoniously to one side.

My mouth falls open in silent protest as I watch him step back from the door—the opening door—his expression turning from dark-eyed want to one of bewilderment.

“So terribly sorry.” His accent is suddenly very posh and very British. “I don’t know what happened there. One minute I’m walking along the hallway, and the next, I’m almost on my arse. I must’ve tripped over the bloody carpet!”

I press my hand to my mouth to stop myself from giggling. Or asking if he’s into amateur dramatics. Because that was surely dramatic.

“Okay, sure,” a masculine voice offers hesitantly. “Well, you take it easy.”

“Thank you. And you.” Matt kind of salutes and spins on his heel.

I begin a slow round of applause as the door clicks closed. Matt grins and gives a theatrical bow.

“You were convincing,” I say, pushing from the wall. Hips swaying obviously as I saunter closer and reach up to tidy his hair. “ Almost convincing.” I allow my gaze to dip to below his belt. “I’m not so certain there’s any disguising that.”

“Sure there is,” he replies, all silky toned. “Come with me, and I’ll let you watch it disappear.”

A swipe of the key, the click of the lock, and my stomach turns weightless in anticipation.

“Ladies first,” he says, pushing the door wide.

“It’s a nice philosophy.” I deliver my taunting response over my shoulder.

His low chuckle. “One I live by.”

“I guess I’m a lucky girl.”

The suite’s decor is tasteful but traditional, with a little French thrown in.

A pair of pale Louis-style chairs and a coffee table flanked by low ottomans, the open door to my right leading to the bedroom.

Because that would be too obvious, I cross the room to stand by the darkened window, wondering if I should flirt some more, pour us a drink, close the curtains—any or all of the above.

The door closes. Matt’s jacket comes off and is abandoned to the back of the couch. One hand slung low in his pocket, he crosses the room while watching me with such intensity that I shiver.

“I have something I need to say. Something to tell ...” His feet come to a stop at the same time as his words, maybe something to do with the way I’ve loosened my dress at the waist.

I make a small sound when the silk slides over my breasts, tantalizing my already-aching nipples through my bra.

“You were saying?” I’m not normally this brazen. At least, not in the bedroom. But then, I’ve never slept with an expert before. I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want him.

“Yes.” He gives his head a shake, like a horse shaking off flies. “Yeah,” he adds, his throat working with a deep swallow. I want to press my lips there. Press my teeth over the cording of muscles and bite. “Ryan, there’s—”

A roll of my shoulders, and my dress flutters to the floor.

“ Fuck me. ”

My core twists with need at the way he drinks me in, his gaze roaming hungrily over my La Perla lingerie. Green, to match my dress, the set was a treat to myself to cheer me up. It didn’t work, or so I thought. It’s sure making me happy now.

“You were saying?” I positively strut across the floor.

“Yeah ...” His eyes. My breasts. It’s a beautiful thing. “I was saying ...”

“Are you married?” Coming to a stop in front of him, I tip onto my toes and slide my arms around the back of his neck. If he says yes, I’ll adjust. And choke him.

“No, I’m not.” His big hands cup my hips. Slide down to my ass.

“Are you committed in some other way?” I’m thinking specifically of a black Amex and sugar mamas and handsome, younger sugar babes.

Though he seems a little on the mature side, a little too sophisticated for that title.

Sugar zaddy? The tux, his air. But all those thoughts dissolve as he pulls my body tight against his.

“I wouldn’t be here if I was.”

The solid press of him does wild things to my pulse, my blood. Not that he realizes as I press my finger to his lips and coolly whisper, “Then it can wait.”

“I don’t think—”

I give a teasing sway of my hips, and the brush of my soft to his hard elicits the sexiest sound from him. “Less thinking.”

His reply is a ragged-sounding curse as his grip tightens on my ass.

“Your eyes kinda match my underwear.”

“You like green.” His fingers slip under the elastic of my panties, caressing the place where my thigh and butt meet.

I like his green eyes. I like the way he’s looking down at me. “What are the chances your underwear is green too?”

“Want to find out?”

“Well, one of us is wearing far too many clothes,” I whisper, drawing my index finger down his torso, bumping over the line of tiny hindrances on his shirt.

As I reach his belt, I tuck the tip into his waistband and take a step back.

My eyes gravitate to what I felt pressed against me. Oh my. The size of that thing.

“I like the way you look at me.” Honest words and his hot look.

Man, he’s so good with his mouth. I bite back a smile at where my mind goes with that.

“There’s kind of a lot to take in.” I flatten my palm over the front of his pants, spreading my fingers wide over his very obvious interest. Just the thought of it inside me makes my stomach swoop like a fairground ride.

“I’d love to know what you’re thinking right now.”

“Just that ...” I lift my gaze but not my head, watching his reaction as I touch him. As I curl my fingers around his solid girth. “This is gonna take some magic to make disappear.”

The corner of his mouth lifts as though hooked. God, I know I am right now. “I might have one or two tricks up my sleeve.”

“I sure hope you can deliver on those words.”

“Oh, I’ll deliver, Ryan. I’ll even let you tell me where.”

A giggle bursts free. So, so smutty. So, so delicious. “I thought you weren’t taking orders tonight.”

“We both know that’s not true.” His answer bears a lazy kind of mocking, his eyes burning with such heat and promise.

“I like the sound of that,” I whisper. Pressing my hand to his chest, I push him backward. One step, two, until the backs of his legs hit the seat of a chair.

“I know. Because you’re a bossy little thing.”

“I prefer assertive ,” I purr, not sure where the words are sprouting from. But if there was ever a time to fulfill all a girl’s fantasies, that time would be now. “Sit your ass down.”

My heart pumps wildly as I follow, climbing onto his lap.

The Louis-style chair is wide and easily accommodates my knees on either side of his thick thighs.

I wonder if he can see that my heart is beating out of my chest or if he notices the tremble of my fingers as I tug on his bow tie.

Like the ribbon on a gift, it loosens effortlessly, the soft whisper as I pull it free from his collar doing strange and wonderful things to my insides.

I trace the top button on his shirt, then flick it open as Matt tilts his head back in invitation. His throat is warm as I press my lips to the triangle of exposed skin, and he swallows as I kiss my way up his neck, groaning softly as I graze his jaw with my teeth.

I did that to him. I made him moan. I turned his eyes lust glazed and green gold. I made his breath short and his cock hard.

I rest my hands on his shoulders, pressing onto my knees, feeling every inch a goddess.

“Good fucking God, you make my mouth water.” The hungry longing in his gaze answers a deep pulse inside me. His attention dips, transfixed now between my legs.

I crook his chin with my finger. I can commiserate, my hot friend. “You look like you want a taste,” I whisper. The tiny white scar on his brow. Where did he get that from?

“Ah, darlin’. I want my mouth on you more than I want my next breath.”

His words, how they affect me.

His dark lashes flutter like my insides as I draw closer and press my mouth to his. He gives a tortured-sounding groan as I take his soft bottom lip between my teeth, his fingers tightening on my butt.

“Ah, ah.” Our breaths still mingling, I lift his hands away, placing them back on the chair arms. “No touching.”

“You can’t mean to be so cruel.” His mouth tips upward, but he keeps his hands still, into this in more ways than just the iron rod in his pants.

“I think you like that I am.” I know I’m getting off just looking at you.

Ignoring the tremble in my fingers, I unbutton the rest of his shirt, eyes avid as I push the sides wide. As I circle his flat, tan nipple, an unexpected tremor runs through him, his sharp intake of breath almost too loud for the room.

“I like that,” I whisper. The sound he made for me.

“I like you.”

I slide my fingers down his abs, his six-, no, eight-pack. Gotta love an overachiever, I think as I watch the muscles flex and contract. “You are so nice .”

A growl.