Chapter 7

 

Matt's condominium apartment was only ten blocks away from the hotel, tucked into one of the narrow residential streets in the Russian Hill district of the city. The facade was a pleasant mix of traditional San Francisco bay windows and modern redwood siding. The interior was uncluttered and elegant, with comfortable furniture in pale grays and blues with occasional accents of dark navy and deep chrome yellow. Paintings crowded the walls.

The pieces were strikingly varied. Some were modern abstracts that were mere slashes of color, some were dreamy nudes, some were San Francisco cityscapes that Susannah recognized as having been painted by local artists and a few were delicately rendered Japanese watercolors. There were three sculptures, too, each sitting atop its own softly lighted display column. Two were sinuous, shiny metal forms that begged to be touched. The third was made of thick sea-blue glass curved into an abstract evocation of a cresting wave. Somehow, it all worked.

"You collect?" Susannah asked, surprised and entranced by this side of him.

"Not really," Matt answered, watching her move around the room, viewing his art collection. He shivered as she ran a fingertip over the curve of the glass wave. "I just buy what I like and hang it on the walls."

Susannah untied the velvet ties of her cape and shrugged out of it, pausing for a moment to drape it over the back of the sofa. The beads on the bodice of her dress glimmered even in the low light, shimmering enticingly with each movement of the slender body under it.

Matt took a deep breath and told himself to be patient; they had the whole night ahead of them. "Would you like a brandy?"

Susannah turned her head to look at him. "No, thank you."

"Coffee?"

"No." She shook her head. "Nothing."

Matt suddenly couldn't wait any longer. "Would you like to make love with me?" he said, low.

Susannah's smile was tremulous. "Yes, please."

He held out his hand and she put hers in it.

They walked down a short hall and up a flight of stairs to his bedroom. It was spare and elegant, furnished with a low platform bed, a teak dresser, and a wooden chair of sleek Scandinavian design. One entire wall was made up of floor-to-ceiling shelves and cupboards, with places for books, framed photographs, various small objets d'art and an extensive state-of-the-art audio/video system. Another wall, and nearly a third of the sloping ceiling, was made up of large rectangular panes of glass. The windows looked out over a patch of nature, a small copse of mature trees and shrubs, one of the unexpected delights often found in the middle of the city's residential districts. Farther out, past the trees, the lights of San Francisco twinkled in the darkness. Farther still lay the midnight black waters of the bay.

"Shall I close the blinds?" Matt asked, watching her hungrily. He'd been thinking of her here, in his bedroom, for what seemed like forever, yet less than three weeks had passed since that day in her office. It was hard to believe she was really here, now. Harder still to make himself take things slow.

"No. Leave them open," she said, staring out at the magnificent view. "It's beautiful."

"Yes," he said. "It is."

She turned her head, meeting his eyes, and smiled at the compliment.

Matt felt his stomach muscles clench with the need to toss her down on the bed and bury himself in her sweet flesh.

"How about some music?" he said, moving purposefully toward the wall unit. He inserted a CD into the player without paying much attention to what it was, and jabbed the on button. Something soft and soulful, with lots of sax, filled the room. Matt held out his arms. "Dance with me, Susannah."

She floated into his embrace, as soft as an angel, as fragrant as a flower, as sweet as the Sugarplum Fairy, as naturally seductive as Eve at the dawn of time. Holding her in his arms was both heaven and hell. He wanted to make the evening last, to make it good for her, to linger over every nuance of the experience and her reaction to it. He wanted to be inside her, now, hot and hard, pounding his way to completion in the exquisite softness of her body.

She stirred in his embrace and pressed closer, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder as they swayed to the music. She could feel the strength in his arms, hard and tense around her, and in his chest, solid and warm against her breasts, and in his erection, rigid against the softness of her belly. She could feel the restraint, the leashed power, just waiting to explode into passion.

She appreciated what he was attempting to do. The romance. The gentle wooing. The slow climb to passion. It was sweet and thoughtful but so unnecessary. She didn't need the trappings of romance tonight. She didn't even want them.

She wanted the passion and the power she sensed in him. The hardness and the heat he held pressed against her. She wanted his hunger, unleashed and unrestrained. Man to her woman. Elemental. Basic. Wild.

She raised her head. "Kiss me," she demanded.

Matt groaned. "If I do that, I'm going to lose control and end up ripping this pretty dress right off your delectable body."

She gave him a slow, witchy smile, a woman's smile, full of temptation and promise. "I guess I'd better take my dress off then, hadn't I?"

Matt groaned again.

Susannah lifted her left arm. "The zipper's right there. See? It's hidden in the seam."

Matt grasped the little metal tab between his finger and thumb and pulled gently, careful not to catch the delicate chiffon in the zipper's teeth. The heavy beaded fabric fell away from her body as the pressure that held it was released, leaving a wide gap from just under her arm to the flare of her hip where the beaded bodice of the dress met the filmy skirt. Matt ran the backs of his fingers up her bare side, leaving gooseflesh in his wake. "You feel like silk," he breathed. His voice shook with the force of his passion.

Susannah shivered, feeling lush and seductive and uncontestably, irresistibly female. It was a wonderful way to feel, she decided, a perfectly delicious way to feel.

She wanted more.

She stepped back, out of his embrace. Reaching up, she placed one hand between her breasts to hold the fabric in place and slowly, watching his face the whole time, slipped one beaded strap, and then the other, off her shoulders.

Matt started forward, his hands out, reaching for her. Susannah shook her head and stepped back, stopping him dead in his tracks without a word.

"Susannah," he choked out. Perspiration beaded on his upper lip. A small muscle jerked in his clenched jaw. His fingers flexed. But he didn't move.

Still holding the bodice to her breasts, still watching his face, she eased one arm, and then the other, completely out of the straps. Then, with a seductive little wiggle, she lifted her hand and let go of the dress. Weighted by the heavy beading, it slid all the way to the floor, leaving her clad in gossamer thigh-high stockings with lace tops, high-heeled evening shoes, and pale ivory silk tap pants. She took another step back, out of the circle of fabric at her feet.

They stared at each other for a long moment. She was nearly naked, soft, curved, womanly, her breasts full and aching, the nipples tight, her body quivering in anticipation. He was fully clothed, hot, hard, painfully aroused, his raw male power barely hidden behind the civilized facade of the elegant tuxedo he wore.

The contrast was tantalizing. Exciting. Overwhelmingly, irresistibly, unbearably erotic.

Susannah straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin in mute feminine challenge, looking at him out of heavy-lidded, luminous eyes. "Now," she said, releasing him.

It was like unleashing a force of nature.

He came at her with a low growl, his hands out, reaching. She felt his fingers bite into her waist and then she was propelled backward, lifted off of her feet for a moment—losing her shoes in the process—before he tossed her down on the quilted navy bedspread. He was on her immediately, and all over he, everywhere. His hands were caressing and stroking feverishly. His mouth was blindly seeking, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses randomly over her bare flesh until he found the prize he sought.

His lips closed over her nipple, avid and greedy to taste and possess but exquisitely careful not to be too rough. He sucked hard and deep. And then more softly, using his tongue to tease and caress. And then hard again, using his whole mouth.

Subtlety and savagery, Susannah thought, white-hot passion and exquisite tenderness. It was a potent combination.

She moaned and arched voluptuously, pushing her breast more deeply into his mouth. She ran her hands over his shoulders and back impatiently, frustrated by her inability to touch the bare skin she suddenly craved with an intensity she'd never felt before. She curled her hands over the collar of his tuxedo jacket and pushed it down, trying to ease it off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it impatiently, one arm at a time, uncaring that it landed in a crumpled heap at the on the floor at the foot of the bed as he shook it off.

Susannah reached for the studs on his shirt next, intent on getting down to bare skin, but his position was wrong and he was unaware of what she was trying to do. Intent on gratifying his own driving need to touch her more intimately, he curled his fingers into the fabric at the side of her fragile panties and yanked. They tore easily, coming away in one ragged piece. He tossed them aside without a thought and delved between her thighs with eager fingers.

She was hot and wet and slick, as swollen as if she'd been ready and aroused for hours. She cried out, her whole body quivering in helpless reaction when his fingers merely brushed against her tumid clitoris. The sound drove him wild.

He lifted himself up and off of supine body, just far enough to reach between their bodies and yank open the fastenings at the front of his trousers. He pushed his trousers and underpants down over his hips and his erection sprang free, hot and hard, quivering against the sensitive skin of Susannah's thigh.

She whimpered and lifted her knees, offering him what they both wanted before he could move to take it. He shifted, poised to enter her and then swore savagely and pulled back.

Susannah grabbed at his bare hips to keep him where he was.

"Condom," he said between gritted teeth. His whole body was shaking with the need to sink into her. "Damned condom is in the drawer."

He stretched out his arm, trying to reach the nightstand, but they were too far down on the bed. He curled his other arm under her waist and lifted, dragging her with him, still under him, as he moved toward the nightstand. Susannah used her heels, pushing against the mattress for added leverage when she realized what he was doing. Because of the position they were in and the way they were moving—Susannah pushing and arching her body, Matt stretching and straining—those parts of them which were most basically male and female bumped against each other in delicious, maddening counterpoint, heightening the urgency to reach their goal.

Matt's rough laughter sounded in her ear. "God, we must look like a couple of sex-crazed idiots," he said.

"I know." She giggled breathlessly and then stiffened as his shaft brushed against her most sensitive flesh. "But hurry."

His fingers reached the drawer pull and he yanked it open.

"Hurry," Susannah said again as he fumbled with the little foil packet.

But his hands were shaking too badly to manage it.

She reached up and took it from him, tearing it open with her teeth. Then, while he balanced above her on hands and knees, she unrolled it onto his turgid length. It was one of the most erotic acts of her life.

He sank down onto her then, into her, entering her in a controlled rush, sinking into her to the hilt, stretching her, filling her to overflowing. Susannah planted her heels against the mattress and lifted herself into it, deepening his possession, demanding all of him. He probed her deeply, slowly grinding his groin against hers in an effort to make it last as long as possible. His big hands cradled her head, holding her still for a kiss as carnal as the act itself.

Susannah ran her hands down his back, seeking the bare flesh of his tight male buttocks, and pressed him closer.

He groaned into her mouth and ground his hips into her.

She tore her mouth from his, planting a row of tiny, hot kisses in a line to his ear. "Harder," she breathed raggedly, and pressed her nails into his buttocks. "Faster."

Matt shivered and stilled, his control pushed to the very edge by her passionate demand.

"Go on," she whispered. "Take me the way I know you're dying to. I want you to."

He lifted his head to look at her. "For pity's sake, Susannah," he growled through gritted teeth, "show a little sense."

She tightened her inner muscles around him in answer.

He groaned and his hips flexed convulsively against hers, driving her down into the mattress. "If I just take what I want, I'm going to leave you behind," he ground out.

Susannah smiled that witchy, womanly smile. "No, you won't," she purred and rubbed the back of her stocking-clad calf against his hip.

Because he desperately wanted to believe it, Matt took her at her word. He slipped his hands under her, sliding them down to cup her buttocks, cushioning and supporting her for a more vigorous penetration.

"Yes," Susannah moaned when he began to thrust harder and faster against her. "Yes." The feeling was exquisite, building higher, spiraling, tightening until she thought she would faint from the intensity. But she didn't faint. She locked her ankles at the small of his back and reached up behind her to grasp the headboard instead, bracing herself to take even more of him. "Yes, yes, yes, yes..." she began to chant in time with each of his powerful thrusts, glorying in his desperate, frantic need of her. "Yes!"

Her climax shook her powerfully, just seconds before his claimed him, hurling her headlong into a whirlwind of intemperate feeling and wondrous sensation, leaving her weak and drained and feeling gloriously, giddily replete. She felt curiously euphoric and light, like a bright red balloon bobbing on the end of a string.

Matt was still for a long moment, his breath rasping against her neck and then he heaved a deep, ragged sigh and levered himself up on to his elbows. "You okay?" he asked, brushing back her tangle of corkscrew curls.

She smiled up at him. "I'm fantastic."

"You are that," Matt agreed. He kissed her nose and lifted himself off her, discreetly disposing of the condom before collapsing onto his back at her side.

She turned her head to look at him. His pale blond hair was damp around the edges. His sharp Nordic cheekbones were flushed. His wide chest was still heaving beneath the pin-tucked pleats of his white dress shirt. And his pants were bunched around his ankles, held in place by the shoes he'd been in too much of a frenzy to remove.

He grinned at her, his blue eyes glowing with satisfaction and masculine triumph. And a certain particular joy he'd never felt before. "As soon as I get my breath back we're going to do that again." He reached over and snapped the elasticized lace top of her thigh-high stocking. "Again and again and again, all night long."

* * *

They made love the second time in the oversized shower stall in Matt's bathroom with the cool tile against Susannah's back and the warm water beating down on their entwined bodies. The third time was on the center island in Matt's kitchen, after an impromptu meal of scrambled eggs and toast. The fourth time was when they awoke in Matt's bed at dawn, with the faint pink glow of the emerging day spilling in through the wide expanse of windows and both of them nearly as needy and ravenous as the first time. The fourth time was up against the inside of Matt's front door.

Matt was never quite sure, later, what it was that set him off as they headed for the front door. Maybe it was the mere sight of her, dressed again in her evening finery, with her hair tumbling over her shoulders. Maybe it was the way she turned her head to smile at him as she reached for the doorknob. Maybe it was because she was leaving and he didn't want her to go. Maybe it was as simple as just knowing she didn't have anything on under her dress.

Whatever it was, he was rock-hard in a second, as avid and hungry as if they hadn't just spent most of the night tearing up the sheets. Whatever it was, he put his hand on her arm, turning her around, and backed her up against the door with his body.

She lifted a teasing eyebrow. "And what do you think you're doing, Counselor Ryan?" she said playfully, putting her hands on his shoulders as if to hold him off.

His growled response was hot, sexy, and graphic.

Susannah's hands went slack on his shoulders for a moment and then she slid them around his neck and stretched up for his kiss, suddenly as hungry as he was.

It happened fast.

Their mouths met in an avid, eating kiss that was deep and carnal and blatantly erotic. His tongue moved in and out of her mouth and she sucked at it greedily. His hands slid down to her hips, gathering up the layers of her skirt to get at the treasure between her legs. She jerked at his belt buckle and lowered the zipper on his khaki chinos to get at his. His hands curled under her buttocks, opening her legs to his caress. Her fingers slid inside his boxer shorts, freeing his erection into her hands. He lifted her, his hands on the back of her thighs, the weight of his chest holding her against the door, and surged forward, his body seeking entrance to hers. She locked her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and accepted him into her. One stroke... two... three... four, and they both exploded in a white-hot swirl of ecstasy unlike anything either of them had ever known before.

The trembling aftermath lasted longer than the act itself. They came back slowly, gradually, with baby-soft kisses and gentle nuzzling and sweet sighs of satisfaction. Susannah's legs grew lax and she let her feet drift back to the floor. Matt eased his weight off her, no longer needing to hold her up against the door. They stood there for long minutes, their arms still wrapped around each other and their hearts pressed together. Her face was tucked into his neck, his cheek rested on her hair. Contentment enveloped them like a San Francisco fog.

And then Matt raised his head and cupped her cheek in his palm, gently turning her face up to his. He waited until she opened her eyes and smiled at him.

"What?" she murmured sleepily, and rubbed her cheek against his hand.

"I think I've fallen in love with you," he said.

Susannah's eyes flared wide. "Matt," she said softly, stunned.

"No, not think," Matt interrupted, correcting himself before she could form the words to answer him. "I am in love with you." He lifted his other hand to her cheek, cradling her face between his wide palms as he stared down into her eyes. "I want you for more than just a night Susannah. I want you forever. I want you marry me."