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She leaned closer and rubbed her cheek against his, sighing with satisfaction as she pulled back. The second time she swung forward she pressed her lips to his, soft, fleeting. She’d planted her palms against his collarbone and slipped them down his torso as she spoke.
“I like the way you smile at me. Like you’re constantly surprised that I’m there beside you and that me being there is a good thing. The way you smell—hmmm—totally turns me on. I snuck that spare T-shirt of yours upstairs the other day after you’d taken it off helping move the extra shelves into the quilt shop.”
“I wondered where that had gone.”
Hope slipped her palms around his lower back then sank her nails in deep as she pulled forward. “The way your voice buzzes against my skin when you whisper, like in the movie theater—it’s this gravelly layer of sensation that trickles over me and makes me all achy inside.”
Matt was less and less worried about the reason that had brought her storming through the door and more sure that what was about to happen had been too long in coming.
She covered his jean-enclosed cock with her hand, palm cupping his ready erection. “I want to have sex because you’ve been haunting my dreams for far too long, and I want to have something else of you to enjoy, more than your laugh or the way you try to save me from myself.”