of her T-shirt parted ways with the crisp denim of her jeans. His fingers blazed across the soft swell of her hip, gliding around and upward to rest with proprietary ease beneath the warmth of her breast. He wanted more—to get her T-shirt off, to see as well as touch. He needed to feel her bare skin against his.
He needed Eve.
She made a soft, husky, arousing little noise in the back of her throat that scattered his senses. Then, her hands tackled the buttons of his shirt. He lifted her into his arms, and she wrapped her legs around him, fiercely kissing him back. He buried his face in the clean scent of her, all no-nonsense soap and a faint trace of vanilla.
She’d pried enough buttons undone to be able to get her hands inside his shirt, and for a moment, he thought his heart might stop. This was it. Matt was going to make love to her, right here on the sofa. He wasn’t taking the time to get her upstairs. He’d never make it.
He stumbled slightly when he stooped to lay her on the cushions, his injured leg still too stiff for certain movements. As he did, he caught a shimmer of their reflections in the sliding doors.
Glass doors.
Dear Lord. Was he really about to make love to Eve on the sofa where her parents could see them? For all he knew, they might have walked by already.
That thought worked faster than a cold shower.
Eve had him by the gaping sides of his shirt, tugging him toward her. Her T-shirt had slid up to expose the flat lines of her belly, a belly he would have given a kidney to be able to lean forward and press a kiss against. Bad, bad idea.
She was rumpled, but at least she was still decent. Another minute and she wouldn’t have been. Thank you, God, for small favors.
“I’m sorry,” he said, easing her shirt down inch by excruciating inch. She had no idea how sorry he was—the last thing he wanted to do right now was stop.
Correction. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass her. The next time they reached this point, he’d make sure they were alone.
“Sorry?” Her eyes were wide and confused, like she’d been startled from a deep sleep. Or interrupted in the middle of making love. She had beautiful eyes. Deep, dark, make love to me eyes.
Matt fastened his shirt, his fingers fumbling with the uncooperative buttons. “Your parents are here,” he reminded her. He had enough of an ego to be pleased he’d made her forget about them, but he was intensely glad they hadn’t seen what he was trying to do to their daughter. He hoped. “They already think I’m a sex-crazed maniac. There’s no need to confirm their opinion.” He took her hand and tugged her to her feet. “I’d better spend the night at my uncle’s.”
She had no idea why he’d want to spend the night at his uncle’s.
Neither could she make sense of what was going on. One minute she’d been laughing at the thought of Matt aggressively pursuing Lena, and the next she was flat on her back on the sofa.
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” she said. For the second time that day, she’d pushed him too far. She tucked her T-shirt back in her jeans and struggled to find the right words to explain. “I’m a little too proactive.”
And with her parents in the next room, too.
He looked startled, then ran his hands through his dusky hair, his nearly translucent blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Proactive is good. Really good.”
That made her laugh, and just like that, her embarrassment faded. It made her like him a little bit more than she already did.
“You really are a nice person, Matt Brison,” she said, reaching up to touch his cheek.
He caught her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her palm. Then he pulled her closer again. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said. “The only reason I’m going to my uncle’s tonight is because I refuse to get you naked with your parents in the house. Tomorrow, I have to fly to Toronto for a few days.” His hot, intense eyes scoured her in a way that left little doubt as to what he was thinking. “And when I come back, believe me, I’m going to prove to you that I am not a nice person. And Eve?”
Eve held her breath, wondering what was coming