Taylor went lightheaded, succumbing to his mouth, his thrusts,him. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she arched into him and hung on as he increased the speed.
Freedom. For once, Taylor let go of everything. Her control. The pain. The need to be perfect. The need to be loved. The need to save her sister.
Gone. All of it. There was only Matt and his skilled hands, teasing mouth, and the way he made her feel.
The orgasm hit with shocking intensity, ripping up her spine. Taylor threw her head back and screamed.
It was a banshee yell, full of grief. At the same time, it was also one of absolution. Of liberation.
Matt froze. As the echo of her cry faded in the kitchen, he swore softly. Poor guy, she’d probably scared him.
But then one of his hands hit the cabinet behind her as he buried himself deeply one final time, every muscle in his body contracting.
As he went over the edge with her, Taylor wrapped her arms around him and tucked herself into his sweet oblivion.
* * *
Somewhere his phone was ringing.
Bad to the Bone.Tony’s ringtone.
Matt’s sleep-addled mind gently prodded his exhausted body awake. He rolled over, fought the heaviness of his eyelids only to receive a blast of sunlight for his efforts. Son of a bitch. They’d forgotten to close the blinds last night. He slapped a hand over his eyes, plunging himself back into darkness before slowly peeling his hand away. All while Thorogood’sBad to the Bonecontinued to pound him awake.
If Taylor intended to keep up this sexual marathon, he’d need to put her on a schedule. As much as he liked to get laid, he required a certain amount of sleep. None of which had happened on the two nights they’d spent together.
Wasn’t this the blessing/curse of falling for a nymphomaniac?
“Oh, my God,” Taylor grumbled. “Shut that thing up. Whattimeis it?”
He glanced at the blazing yellow numbers on the digital clock and scooped his phone off the bedside table. “Six-thirty.”
Good Christ, man.
On the third ring, he punched the screen and flopped to his back. “Gerard, this better be good.”
“Morning, sunshine,” Tony said.
One thing about Gerard, he’d always been a morning person. Even back in their police academy days when most of the guys wanted to sleep all damned day, he was up and at it, working out, getting in a run, studying, whatever.
Pain in the ass.
Beside Matt, Taylor nudged backward, her warm butt connecting with his hip, followed by the rest of her body pressing into his side. Taylor. A snuggler. Go figure. He tucked his free hand under her, spooning her against him and inhaling that soft, floral scent that, after their first night together, had suddenly become a great way to start his day.
“Do you ever sleep?” Matt said to Tony.
“I do. Quite well, in fact. Listen up, can you run shotgun with me on a case tonight? Shouldn’t be more than a couple hours.”
“What is it?”
“Gay bar. I need a beard. Or would that make you a reverse beard? Whatever. I need a boyfriend.”
“I’m not kissing you.”
At that, Taylor flipped over, shooting daggers at him. “Relax,” he said. “It’s my buddy.”
That drew two raised eyebrows.
“Undercover work,” he assured her. “For a case.”
