Seducing The Matchmaker: One Man Rush / Taking Him Down / The Personal Touch. Meg Maguire

women inspired a possessiveness she had no business feeling.

      By the time she reached the guest cottage, her hands were shaky as she slid the key into the lock. Because of her mother. Because of stress.

      Even as she tried to make excuses, she knew that wasn’t why.

      “Let me.” Kyle’s hand covered hers on the key since she’d apparently forgotten which way it turned.

      His powerful body sheltered hers from the breeze, never touching her but making her utterly aware of his presence. She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent. Feeling his warmth. His nearness.

      Too soon, he had the door open, his hand falling away from hers. By now she was jittery, the way she’d felt in the days when she drank too much caffeine and didn’t eat enough breakfast. Only this time, it was a case of too much sexual frustration and not enough Kyle Murphy.

      Half stumbling inside the cottage, she stepped on the ice-blue shag carpet in a living area that was a nod to the seventies and the disco-era. Daylight filtered in the half-closed blinds, but the room was dim with no lights on. Danish modern furniture and an iconic pole lamp with brown metal shades blurred in her mind, a dreamlike backdrop for the only thing that seemed clear in her field of vision.

      A strong, attractive athlete who looked at her as if she was beautiful. He followed her inside and closed the door behind him. The fact that he locked it sent a shiver through her. She swallowed hard.

      “I don’t know why I thought I could be alone with you.” She had no willpower when it came to Kyle. Hadn’t she seen as much when he’d kissed her the last time? She’d been ready to climb into his lap and strip them both naked.

      “Maybe you realized that last night was special.”

      Or maybe she was just crazy. All she could think about was the way it had felt to have his hands on her. His lips hot on hers.

      “Which, in the end, didn’t go so well.” She cleared her throat since her voice seemed to have dwindled to nothing.

      “Only because you insisted on saying it was all a mistake.” He stepped closer, making his intent clear.

      Her heart raced. She wanted to say something, but words seemed inadequate to express the tumult of feelings and sensations swirling inside her. He’d been so kind about her mom. So thoughtful about backing off when she’d panicked after their kiss.

      “I don’t think it was a mistake,” he reiterated.

      Her heart beat so loud now she could hear it in her ears.

      “The only error we made was stopping too soon.” His hands slid around her waist and she was lost.

      No, she’d been lost from the moment she’d brought him here—to the privacy of the guest cottage—where she could have him all to herself.

      “How did you sleep last night, Marissa?” he asked, breathing the question so softly over her ear that her skin tingled all the way up her spine.

      “Not so well,” she answered honestly, arching her neck in the sincere hope he would kiss her there again. “I contacted my client. Told her I’m withdrawing from the race to secure you as a date for her.”

      His lips molded to the column of her throat, tasting her in slow sweeps of his tongue.

      “Thank you.” He breathed the words against her neck, a warm and minty tickle of air that gave her goose bumps.

      Sensation tripped down her shoulder and circled her breast, making her back arch with the need for more contact.

      It might be crazy, but Kyle was the only good thing to happen to her in months. And he was better than good. He rated off-the-charts delectable. This time, there would be no stopping.

       7

      KYLE LIFTED HER OFF her feet. Crushed her to him. Kissed her until he couldn’t breathe.

      He backed her out of the living area, seeking somewhere to lay her down. Moving blindly, he felt his way down the hallway, protecting her body and not caring what he ran into with his own. Her fingers combed wildly through his hair as she kissed him, her tongue stroking an erotic rhythm over his.

      Her orchid scent heightened as her body heated up. She tugged on his jacket sleeve with an impatient hand and he realized she wanted him to go left.

      There must be a bedroom in that direction.

      Grateful, he edged inside the dim room where the curtains had been fully drawn. A dark shape tucked into a corner looked like the bed. Before he could bring her there, she shifted downward, freeing herself from his arms.

      His caveman brain—calibrated solely for sex—couldn’t process what was happening. Stopping didn’t compute. But then she began unbuttoning her blouse, her pale fingers flying over the fastenings.

      This, he understood. Shoving off his jacket, he yanked his T-shirt up and over his head.

      “Wait,” she pleaded, a soft palm on his bare chest. “I want to see you.”

      For a moment, she disappeared and he was tempted to follow despite her dictate. But she returned from somewhere—a bathroom off to one side, he thought—with a fat candle burning on a silver tray. The warm light played over her pretty features, casting her skin in a golden glow.

      Leaning forward to place the candle on a nightstand, she gave him a gorgeous view of creamy breasts swelling above a pink lace bra. Her half-opened blouse framed the display, making his mouth water for a taste.

      “Good idea,” he managed to say, his voice throaty and hoarse with hunger for her. But he wanted to show her he hadn’t gone totally sex-crazy. He could still appreciate the finer points of taking their time.

      Even if blood flow to his erection robbed his brain of vital oxygen.

      “I’m out of practice,” she whispered, hovering awkwardly over the candle with her glasses steaming up.

      “I’m glad.” He hadn’t meant to say it quite so fiercely, but it was the truth.

      He admired her sweetness and her honor, liked the fact that she was careful with herself. So if she needed a little extra time, by God, he was going to give it to her.

      “I don’t know what you’re expecting, but I’m not very …” She seemed to cast around for words, her sexual hesitance making his throat dry up.

      How had he gotten so lucky to be with her?

      “I only have one expectation,” he explained, crossing the bedroom floor to retrieve her since she showed no signs of coming back to him. “I expect I’m going to die any minute now if I don’t touch you more.”

      It was a pressing imperative to put his hands on her. Mold her against him. Taste her thoroughly.

      “Sounds serious,” she murmured, sliding her glasses down and setting them on the dresser.

      “You have no idea.” He stopped inches away and undid the last three buttons on her blouse.

      A soft breath hissed between her teeth as he pushed the pink cotton off her shoulders, letting it fall to the carpet.

      She was thin and delicately made. The gentle swell of her breasts was perfectly proportioned for the rest of her. Unable to resist another second, he skimmed a hand beneath one pink bra strap and let it fall off her shoulder. The cup rolled forward, stopping just before it revealed anything.

      Leaning in, he kissed her there, on the top of that plump rise. He licked her and she shivered, a raw moan bubbling up from her throat while he sought the tight crest of her nipple. Finding it, he suckled hard, drawing her deep in his mouth to make her forget about anything but him. This.

      He kept her there, working the tight