Matched To Mr Right. Kat Cantrell

her head, she got up on her knees and pulled his tie free. “Hot. For you.”

      Then she slid off his jacket and went to work on the buttons of his shirt, watching him as she slipped them free.

      Finally, she’d completely undressed him. Taking her in his arms, he rolled with her to the middle of the bed and picked up the kiss where they’d left off.

      Her lips molded to his and his mind drained as her warm body snugged up against him. They were naked together, finally. Physically, at least.

      Almost naked. He skimmed a hand down her spine and fingered the thong. Silky. Sexy. She’d worn it for him. If he’d known that, the party would have been over at about seven-thirty.

      Her palm raced across his skin in kind and her touch ignited an urgency he couldn’t allow. He’d take as little pleasure from this as possible. Otherwise he’d never leave the bed. It was a delicate balance, made more complicated by the fact that no matter what she’d said, she still wished for something cataclysmic out of this.

      He’d make it as physically cataclysmic as he could. That was the best he could do.

      Still deep in her mouth, he yanked off the thong and then explored her torso with tiny openmouthed kisses until he reached her core. There, he licked her with the very tip of his tongue.

      “Leo,” she gasped, which only drove his urgency higher.

      “You taste like heaven.” He wanted more and took her nub in his mouth to nibble it gently, then harder, laving his tongue against it until she writhed beneath his onslaught.

      Mewls deep in her throat attested to her mindless pleasure and then she cried, “More. I’m about to come,” which was so hot it shoved him to the brink.

      His erection pulsed and he clamped down, aching with the effort to keep from exploding. He drove a finger into her wet core, then two, and tongued her and she arched up as she clinched around him, shattering into a beautiful climax.

      He rose up and tilted her chin to soak up the sated, satisfied glint in her eyes as he gave her a minute to recover. But not too long. When her breathing slowed a bit, he guided her hands upward and curled them around the top edge of the headboard.

      If she touched him, he’d lose all his hard-won control.

      “Hold on,” he murmured, and she did, so trusting, so eager.

      He parted her thighs and slowly pushed into her. Rapture stole across her face, thrilling him. She enveloped him like a vise, squeezing tight. She was amazing, open, wet.

      His vision flickered as Daniella swamped his senses.

      More. He thrust into her. Again.

      Desire built, heavy and thick, and he thumbed her nub, circling it. Heat broke over him and he ached to come but needed her to come first. To prove he wasn’t weak, and that he could still resist her.

      “Daniella,” he ground out hoarsely, and she captured his gaze.

      He couldn’t break free.

      Everything shrank down to this one suspended moment and her bottomless, tender irises ensnared him, encouraging him to just feel. And he did feel it, against his will, but heaviness spread alarmingly fast through his chest, displacing what should be there. Against all odds, she’d wrenched something foreign and indefinable and magnificent from his very depths.

      Only one thing could encapsulate it, one word. “Dannie.”

      It left his mouth on a broken plea and she answered with a cry, convulsing around him, triggering his release. He poured all his desire, all his confusion—and what he feared might be part of his soul—into her, groaning with sensual gratification he’d never meant to experience.

      Daniella had taken his name, taken his body. Taken something primal and physical and turned it into poetry. The awe of it engulfed him, washing through his chest. He wanted to mark every page of her again and again and never stop. And let her do the same to him.

      Intellectually, he’d realized long ago that one small taste of her would never be enough. But the actual experience had burst from its neat little box, crushing the sides, eclipsing even his wildest fantasies.

      He couldn’t allow himself to indulge like that again. Otherwise his wife would swallow him whole and take every bit of his ambition with her.