He flipped back the fabric, baring his chest, and her eyes drank in his skin. Throbbing heat pooled low in his groin while he painstakingly awaited her permission. Her palms pressed against his chest and her mouth tipped up. Mathew's lips crashed down on hers in sweet relief. Verity's breathing was shallow, shaky, and her eyes glistened. With dew building on their skin, steam billowed around as if wrapping them in a private blanket of encouragement. Verity unfastened his pants while deep, possessive kisses charged him. His brain tried to register what was happening, but his instinct took control before he thought twice. He drew his hands up from her waist and slipped her shirt off in a single fluid motion. Mathew's lips trailed down her smooth throat and found her breasts. He had never bought her a bra—hadn't known where to start. And right now, he was glad to have less of a barrier between him and the only woman he'd ever truly wanted—the only one who'd ever driven him to a frenzy with desire.
Mathew knelt on the floor for better access, and while he gently sucked and licked across her pointed nipples, she arched in pleasure. His deft hands unzipped her jeans and shimmied them off her glorious body. Mathew's fingers explored her cleft. It was hot and slick, hidden behind soft dark brown curls. She gasped at his touch, and his erection jutted straight out in demand. The anticipation was both exciting and maddening.
Mathew dipped his head and lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder. She was exposed to him, and he would finally show her what he offered. Verity leaned against the counter while his tongue swirled around her sensitive core. Muscles danced with pleasure under his hands, and he sucked and rubbed until her breathing became a pant. An index finger coated in her pleasure, entered her.
"Matt! Oh, that feels so good. Keep going!" she begged for the finish.
Fluid leaked from his erection and he was certain he wouldn't be able to hold himself together much longer.
Her breath hitched, and her body became rigid. She cried out again as the waves of pleasure overtook her. Mathew stood with a broad grin of pride. Her eyes stared at his lips in—disbelief? He kissed her with want and need, his tongue finding hers. His cock nestled between her legs, ready and begging for entry. He waited for her permission once again, despite being wound so tight he couldn't think straight.
Her fist wrapped around his erection and angled it toward her opening. With her approval, he reached under her thighs, slick with humidity, and lifted her up. While suspended in the air by his hands, he leaned her against the door for leverage. Mathew entered her with a groan and carefully seated himself. His eyes closed and his head fell back. She was hot and tight, and after a moment's enjoyment, he thrusted, slow at first and then faster. His breathing became hitched as his thrusts rattled the door rhythmically on its hinges. She gave herself to him, and he was so grateful he fought tears of pleasure from forming. He wanted her so much, and it had been so long since he'd been with anyone, he would be disappointingly short today, but he vowed to make it up to her another time. Before he realized, he arched in pleasure and filled her up, waves of release pulsing through him. They both panted and gazed into each other's eyes.
"I think we should conserve water more often," she said with a devious smile.
Mathew chuckled and glanced over his shoulder at the running water. Oops.
"We have to be quick. The water heater is probably running low." Mathew scrubbed a clean washcloth with a bar of soap and set about cleaning her. The cloth glided over her skin, and Mathew relished washing every inch of her. He wanted to give certain places extra attention, but that was risking a cold shower. Quick swipes were all they had time for, and she turned around, exposing her bare backside, and he froze.
"What happened here?" His fingers traced the white horizontal lines of old scars across her butt cheeks.
She sighed. "Jaime Perez."
Like a flip of a switch, his fists knotted, squeezing suds out of the cloth. "He did this to you?"
"He attacked me, so I maimed him. You saved me from his revenge. He intends to kill me."
A man capable of this damage was surely a monster. Plus, he technically killed Mathew when he went back in time originally. Kiko wasn't lying when she'd said Verity would be murdered.
"He won't touch a hair on your head." He glided the soapy cloth over her back, down her legs and between her luscious crevices. Mathew squirted a dab of shampoo into his hands and massaged it through her scalp and down her hair. A moan escaped her lips.
"You're good with your hands," she said.
"Surgeon's hands. Fine motor skills are required."
She snatched the cloth from him and tossed it to the floor of the tub. She lathered up a fresh one and washed every tingling inch of his body. His cock sprung back to life and bounced for attention. With soap rinsing as she wiped, she smiled at it, knelt, and before he realized what she'd planned, she accepted him inside her mouth. He grunted in pleasurable surprise. Her hands worked his sack, and her mouth sucked while she stroked.
He warned her, pushing her back before he released in her mouth. He stood her up and penetrated her, filling her a second time. Verity hadn't a single fault. High on oxytocin, his brain swam with her scent. How was he so lucky to find a woman so beautiful yet brave and adventurous? Perhaps he found his lotto ticket after all.
"Never change. You are perfect," he said.
Chapter Fourteen
Green Bay, Wisconsin
Present Day
THEY WERE SUPPOSED to still be in New York City, but they came back the same day, so Mathew and Verity went to the office the next morning. Verity stopped Mathew from calling Becca, insisting she could manage the front desk herself. She wanted to prove she was capable.
Verity hadn't found a single thing about the future to dislike. She filled a cup from the automatic coffee pot and marveled at its ease. She brought it to the expansive desk and sat next to Mathew, who was on the phone calling clients to reschedule their appointments for today. Most of them were grateful and accepted.
Mathew had no problem with her ruined reputation, and her heart soared at her luck. Verity's body was still singing from last night. He was so sensual, so kind, and generous—a true gentleman, and Verity couldn't wait for his proposal, unlike that charlatan Bernard. Of course, at the time, she hadn't wanted to be Bernard's wife anyway, but his refusal to propose was a horrific insult.
Last night, after their shower, they watched Back to the Future Part Three, but Mathew pointed out the movie wasn't real. It looked real, and if that wild time traveling duo could fix their futures, then why couldn't Verity? At any moment, when Mathew proposed, her cursed reputation hanging over her head like the warning flag of a pirate's mast, would vanish, and like Doc Brown and Marty, she, too, would have her happily ever after.
After the movie, it had been late, and she stood from the couch and stretched for bed, yawning strongly enough to rattle her whole body. Mathew had leaned over on the couch, limbs splayed for sleep, but she insisted he share her sheets—his sheets, actually.
He hadn't hesitated.
Verity sipped her hot coffee and her brain snapped alert. This morning she'd awoke to a heavy arm draped across her middle, a hand enveloping a breast, and an erection perched against her butt. They fixed that problem. After the passion they shared last night and this morning, Verity was on edge waiting for her modern gentleman to pledge himself to her.