“It was hot out there,” Matt declared. He wiped the light sheen of sweat across his forehead with his handkerchief. “I’m burning up.” “Yes, it is hot,” I agreed, glimpsing his chest. “I’ll get you something to drink.” Turning around to reach in the refrigerator, I grabbed a cold can of Sprite. Before I could hand it to Matt, he came up behind me. Gently, his fingers ran along the sides of my arms. My nerves leaped. My breath trapped in my throat. My body filled with aching desire. A need for more intimate contact with Matt grew so strongly that I couldn’t help easing around. When we faced each other, he looked as hungry for me as I felt for him. “It wasn’t really that hot out,” he confessed in a lust-filled voice. “I could have kept my shirt on. But I just wanted you to touch me, Janelle.” Matt’s touch, his confession, his nearness, all made me weak. “Is that right,” I uttered. “Oh yes.” His voice dwindled to a whisper. “I’ve always felt this strong attraction to you. But I knew you never wanted to get to know the real me. I figured that if you touched me, you might just realize that I’m not some thug who loves to get in fights. If you touched me, you’ll feel how strongly my heart is beating and that I can really make you happy.” With that admission, Matt stared in my eyes. While he did, he picked up my hand. He laid it on his damp chest. As he stated, his heart beat wildly—wildly as my own. He gazed down at my lips. Starving to taste him, I gazed up at his. Then, just like in my fantasies, Matt’s gorgeous face closed in on mine. A haze of sensual heat enveloped me. His soft lips did a tantalizing exploration of my mouth. His tongue pierced the opening of my lips. As it tangled with mine, nothing had a right to feel so good.
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