Page 22 of Now That It’s You (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #5)

The instant his palm closed over her breast, Meg groaned against his lips. He felt so good, and it had been so long since anyone touched her like this.

Had anyone touched her like this?

She tried to remember what Matt’s hands had been like, then felt disgusted with herself for not remembering, or for trying to remember right now, in this moment, with Kyle’s big palms skimming over her nipples.

She shoved Matt from her mind and ground herself into the hardness that pressed against Kyle’s fly, wanting to feel all of him at once.

His fingers slid behind her and found her bra clasp. He seemed to hesitate there, and she wondered if he was waiting for her to tell him no. If he thought she’d demand that he show her some respect or take his damn hands off her and treat her like a lady.

Meg broke the kiss and locked her eyes on his in the darkness. “Do it,” she said with a fierceness that surprised her. “Tear the fucking thing off if you have to.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He fumbled a little with the clasp, and she cursed her boobs for requiring bras with a billion little hooks and a veritable fortress of underwire. “Welcome to the word of industrial-strength bras,” she said, trying to be glib about it. “Do you need me to— oh .”

The clasp popped open and she saw the flash of his teeth as he grinned in the darkness. “Got it. I might be a slow learner, but I get there eventually.”

“Thank God,” she said as his hand closed over her bare breast.

He went back to kissing her, one hand sliding over her breasts while the other cupped her ass.

Her legs and arms trembled, and she wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or the effort of keeping herself wrapped around him this way.

It was hot in this hallway, but she couldn’t tell if it was them or the space.

The sharp tang of copper drifted from his studio, blunted by the scent of leather and something she thought might be wood smoke or maybe just Kyle.

Part of her wished she could see him, that she could know the blaze of heat in his eyes as she ground herself against him and pressed her breasts into his palm.

But part of her feared the light. Would they be doing this if they could see each other? Would they turn shy and hesitant? She wasn’t willing to find out.

She dug her nails into the back of his scalp and arched against him, loving the feel of those work-roughened hands on her skin.

She did remember Matt’s hands, after all.

They’d been smooth and long-fingered, but Kyle’s hands were big all over.

A man’s hands with calluses and ridges. How many times over the years had she let her gaze drop to those hands, wondering what they’d feel like as a contrast to Matt’s more refined touch?

Stop thinking about Matt, dammit.

She felt Kyle tense between her legs, and worried for a second that he’d read her mind. She broke the kiss.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“No,” he said, and kissed her again. “What did you say earlier? ‘Some things are okay to stay secret.’”

“Fair enough,” she said, licking her lips. “How about I tell you what I’m thinking?”

“Does it involve my hands on your body?”

She laughed. “Definitely. I think you should take off my shirt.”

“Okay.”

“And your shirt.”

“Right.”

“And your pants. And—I don’t suppose there’s a bed anyplace nearby?”

He nodded, or at least that’s what it looked like in the darkness. “Actually,yes. There’s a cot in the studio,” he said. “It’s not much, but?—”

“As long as it’s horizontal, I’m good.” Meg unclasped her fingers from around his neck and lowered herself to the ground.

She tugged down the hem of her T-shirt, then folded her arms to form a shelf under her boobs in lieu of the bra he’d left unhooked.

“Lead the way,” she said. “Slowly, though. In addition to having terrible night vision, I’m also without my underwire now. Thank you for that.”

“I’ve got you,” he said, and slipped a hand around her waist.

They were both speaking in whispers, and Meg wondered why that was. Were they afraid of disturbing old ghosts, or afraid of scaring each other away?

Kyle steered her down the hall and paused at the entrance to the studio. She saw him start to reach for the light switch, then hesitate. He must be thinking the same thing she was about the lights, wondering if they’d chicken out without the cover of darkness.

She took a step forward, then felt her foot catch on something. “Ooof,” she said. Kyle’s hands shot out to catch her around the waist, and she felt a flush heating her cheeks. “Sorry. I tripped on something.”

“My fault. There are a lot of somethings to trip over in here.” He flipped the lights on, and Meg stood blinking in the brilliant white wash of it.

She looked up at him and smiled. “Hi, there.”

He smiled back, almost shyly. “Hello.”

“Fancy seeing you here.” Meg tucked a curl behind one ear and scuffed her clog across the floor.

“You’re beautiful.”

She laughed and returned her arm to its folded position, trying to look casual and cool instead of like a girl trying desperately to support her own boobs.

“Thank you.” She glanced around the studio, wondering if he’d been kidding about the cot or if she was kidding herself about this being a good idea. “Where’s that bed?”

“Right this way.” He put his hand in the small of her back again and steered her toward the far corner of the studio, while Meg did her best not to trip over her own feet.

“I brought it in a couple years ago when I was working crazy hours on a sculpture and I found myself sleeping on the floor just to catch a quick nap.”

“You mean it’s not where you bring all your floozy art groupies for threesomes?”

“No, I use my penthouse in Paris for that.”

She giggled as he ushered her around a tall, tri-panel wood screen she guessed was there to offer some sort of privacy during his catnaps.

There were a lot of windows in this place, though she supposed he could just put the blinds down.

The cot was small, tinier than a twin bed, and the Batman sheets erased any suspicion that this was Kyle’s regular seduction spot.

Meg walked to the edge of the cot and turned to face him. She hesitated, then uncrossed her arms. A flash of self-consciousness moved through her, and she wondered for the briefest moment what he’d say if she told him she’d changed her mind.

But she hadn’t. Not even close.

He stood frozen before her, seemingly waiting for her to make the next move. So she did.

She caught the hem of her T-shirt in both hands and tugged it over her head, wishing she’d perfected one of those supermodel disrobing maneuvers she’d seen on TV.

But the look on Kyle’s face told him he wasn’t concerned with her moves.

“Holy Christ,” he said as Meg dropped her T-shirt on the floor. Her bra was tangled up in one of the arms, so she stood there topless and exposed in the bright wash of light from the studio.

His reaction made her bold, so she straightened her back and opened her arms to the side to give him the full view. A cruel puberty had left her occasionally self-conscious about her breasts, but this wasn’t one of those times. In moments like this, she knew they were her nicest asset.

Meg licked her lips. “In case you were wondering, they’re real.”

“I know,” he said, taking a step forward and sliding a hand up the curve of her waist. “Believe me, I know.”

She wanted to ask if Matt had told him or if he’d figured it out for himself in the closet, but bringing up Matt right now didn’t seem wise.

“Nothing in the world could feel this real.” His hands moved over them, steady and sure. “Nothing.”

She was too dizzy to know exactly what he meant, so she slid her arms around his waist and gave herself over to the pleasure of his mouth moving up her throat and behind her ear. She gasped as he kissed her shoulder, taking his time, getting to know her body.

She wanted to know his body, too.

Her fingers found the hem of his shirt and tugged up. She wasn’t quite tall enough to execute the move seamlessly, and ended up stuck just below his chin. He stopped kissing her shoulder long enough to help her tug it over his head, and they both laughed when his arms got tangled up in the sleeves.

“You’d think we’d never done this before,” Meg murmured.

“We haven’t.”

“You know what I mean,” she said, kissing his shoulder. “With each other.”

Kyle dropped his shirt on the ground and smiled, bare-chested and beautiful before her.

She started to reach out and touch him, but he grabbed her by the waist and turned them both around so they faced each other in the opposite direction.

Then he sat down on the cot, putting himself eye-level with her breasts.

Or mouth-level.

“Oh,” Meg gasped as his mouth found her nipple and began to work magic. She twined her fingers in his hair and closed her eyes again, giving over to the sensation. Dropping her head back, she felt him taste and suck and stroke until her knees began to quiver.

“Please say you have a condom,” she whispered.

“I have a condom.”

“Thank God.” She sank down onto the cot beside him and planted a kiss on his right shoulder.

He pulled her down onto the cot with him, lying back with her whole body pressed against his.

It was a tight fit with two of them, barely enough room for them to lie on their sides facing each other.

Somehow, Meg managed to get his pants down over his hips, and he grabbed them from her before she could toss them aside.

“Wallet,” he murmured as he kissed her breasts.

“Now’s not the time to go shopping.”

“Smartass,” he said, delivering a light nip to the underside of her breast. “Here, take this.”

He slid the condom into her hands and reached for the button on her jeans. Meg tore the wrapper open while he made quick work of getting her out of the rest of her clothes.