The From Paris With Love And Regency Season Of Secrets Ultimate Collection. Кэрол Мортимер

nearly lost his balance as his shirt came over his head, gripped tight in her fists. She threw it to the concrete. Before he could protest, she had his zipper down and her warm hands stroked his flesh, coaxing him out from behind the fabric of his underwear.

      They were on the roof. And he was on display.

      Then she knelt. Her mouth closed over his length, and conscious thought escaped him as his knees weakened. Running on pure carnal instinct, he pushed deeper until the licks of fire spread through his blood like an inferno, tightening into a knot at his center. He couldn’t keep from coming another second.

      “Hold up, sweetheart.”

      He eased from her mouth and in a flash, dropped to the ground and pulled her into his lap. The breeze cooled his fevered skin. Street sounds wafted from below. And he didn’t care. She encouraged him to do new things, things he’d never do under normal circumstances, and somehow it made sense.

      In moments, her clothes landed in a heap and her mouth landed on his, legs wrapped around his waist, exactly the way he liked.

      Yes. He fed the flames as he slid into her. Eyes closed, he froze, sustaining the perfect pleasure of being inside her sweet body, reveling in the physical, carnal hunger that drove him to join with her.

      He’d left Dallas desperate to feel again. She’d burrowed underneath the ice-covered inertia and sensitized him. To the limit.

      She moaned his name and rolled her hips, drawing him deeper than should have been possible. The roof, the air, Evangeline—something—heightened the sensations, spiraling him toward oblivion faster, stronger, fiercer than ever before.

      Her gaze captured his, and the morning sunlight refracted inside her eyes, brightening them. The ache of near release bled upward, into his chest, his throat.

      Lids fluttering, she surrendered to an exceptionally strong climax. It rippled down his length and detonated his own release. The blast echoed in his head, blacking out his vision.

      He held her slumped form, dragging oxygen into his lungs. That had been...different. And in a relationship full of different, how could there be so many shades yet undiscovered?

      How could he crave still more when they’d delved so deeply already?

      When she shifted, resettling in his lap, clarity blew away the awe of the moment.

      “Evangeline. We forgot to use a condom.”

      “It’s okay,” she mumbled against his shoulder. “It’s the wrong time of the month.”

      Women and their bodies—that was a mystery he’d yet to solve even after being with Amber for years. He heaved out a shudder of a breath.

      “Sure?”

      “Well, either way, too late now.” She smiled up at him. “And it was worth it. I don’t know how you do that to me. It was unbelievable. Even for us.”

      “Yeah. It was.”

      She’d noticed the difference too, but attributed it to the lack of a barrier. Which he didn’t believe for a second. Sure the sensation was mind-altering. He’d do it again in a heartbeat if given a safe opportunity. But there was more to it than forgetting a condom, and he feared it had everything to do with Evangeline. With who he was around her. Because of her.

      “We’ll be extra careful from now on.” She wagged her finger at him. “You have to stop being so adorable and sexy.”

      “Me?” That he could never get used to. It was disturbing when she told him how much he turned her on, which she did frequently. Disturbing because he liked it, and didn’t understand what about her was so compelling, when she and Amber were such polar opposites. “You’re the one who was all gorgeous with the hair in your face.”

      “You’ve got it bad and you might as well admit it.”

      His pulse stuttered. “Got what bad?”

      A crush? Feelings? Was she staring down the barrel of their relationship and seeing things that weren’t there?

      Or was he making excuses for things he didn’t want to examine too closely?

      “An addiction to inventive positions,” she explained with a wicked laugh. “And locations, apparently.”

      His muscles relaxed, and he eased her up to help her get dressed, then stepped into his own clothes. “That’s all you, honey. I’m just here for the food.”

      Her laugh uncurled across his skin with gravelly teeth and stayed there. She affected him in so many ways. And not all of them were good.

      A dose of guilt wormed into his consciousness. He’d found a temporary cure for his ills, but how fair was it to keep using Evangeline?

      “Hey.” He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “You know I don’t have much to offer. Emotionally. Right?”

      She nodded, gaze searching his quizzically. “I’m not confused about what’s going on between us. We’re keeping the demons at bay until it doesn’t work any longer. Were you confused?”

      “No. Just checking.”

      Keeping the demons at bay. Yeah, that was exactly what they were doing. She knew he wasn’t capable of anything more right now.

      They meandered downstairs to do absolutely nothing except be together.

      It shouldn’t have been so easy. They should get on each other’s nerves. Or complain about socks on the floor, dishes in the sink. Argue about something.

      They didn’t.

      The longer he spent in Evangeline’s company, the less he recognized himself. He hadn’t put on a suit since the masked ball; he hadn’t ironed a shirt or balanced his checkbook. T-shirts and spending money recklessly felt far too comfortable. As comfortable as Evangeline.

      He hadn’t dwelled on Amber in days. Wasn’t that the point of all this? Why did it feel so strange?

      Venice provided a much-needed break from real life as he searched for a way to get back to Dallas, to the responsible, centered, married man he’d been. When he’d understood his place in the world and woke up happy every morning.

      He didn’t know what would work to turn back time, or if what he sought existed. But he was starting to wonder—if he’d known what to look for, what would he have found instead of glittery, wrong-for-Matthew-Wheeler Evangeline?

      And would he recognize it, now that Evangeline had so filled him he couldn’t see around her?

      * * *

      Late one afternoon, Evangeline’s phone buzzed. She retrieved it and flopped on the couch next to Matt, then glanced up from the text message to catch his gaze.

      “Vincenzo’s cousin, Nicola, is throwing a small dinner party,” she said. “Tonight. Do you want to go? It’s casual. He assures me the guest list is well vetted.”

      They hadn’t left the house in a week. Self-preservation warred with the gypsy part of her soul that liked parties and people and experiences. All of her parts liked Matt, so it wasn’t a hardship to wake up in his bed every morning.

      “Sounds fun. As long as you’re okay with it.”

      And that was why. He was amazing and intuitive and never crowded her. Gradually, she’d stopped practicing her exit strategy and just enjoyed hanging out with him. Plus, she’d grown rather fond of starring in Matt’s rodeo. The man shattered her with those eyes alone.

      Was she okay with going out? It was dinner at Nicola’s house, not a public flogging. She hesitated.

      “Nicola lives on the other end of the Grand Canal. How should we get there?”

      With silent, reassuring strength, he covered Evangeline’s hand with his. “Private water taxi. Put on a big hat and a scarf. It’ll be dark. No one will know it’s you.”