Unwrapping Her Perfect Match

Chapter Eleven

Soft flesh pressing against his erection woke John from a lusty dream. Only half-awake—if that—he indulged his body's natural desires, tightening his grip on a feminine hip so he could press himself harder against the softness that felt so, so good. So right.

Gwen. He knew without opening his eyes this bum was hers. It was more than just the memory of her heading to his bedroom with him last night. It was the fact that he'd fantasized about waking up with her every morning since the first time he'd held her. A tiny moan escaped from her throat. He slid his hand from her hip over her soft belly, over her T-shirt—probably his T-shirt—up to her throat until he could tilt her head back. He exposed the line of her throat to his mouth, pressed open kisses from her jaw to her shoulder, dragging a fistful of cotton down to get the hollow of skin above her collarbone.

"John?" she whispered. As if she'd just woken up. As if she hadn't known what she was doing when she'd rubbed against him. Maybe she hadn't. Maybe her physical response had been as instinctual as his.

"Mmm. Morning." At least, he assumed it was morning. His head felt a hell of a lot better. The room was still dark, though, so maybe he'd only had a very healing few hours of sleep. He nuzzled her where her neck met her chest, softly licking the skin before sealing it with a kiss. "Sleep well?"

"Still asleep," she mumbled. But her arms came up and looped around his neck, holding him close while she buried her face in his hair and inhaled. "Ohhh, this is a lovely way to stay asleep."

He chuckled and let his hands wander to the hem of the shirt she wore. It bunched around her waist, leaving her covered by only a pair of panties below. Pulling the hem tight, he tugged it back and forth across her stomach, easing it up higher and higher with each pass. He opened his eyes just enough to watch her reactions, make sure she was okay with where they were going. She stared back at him with a sleepy gaze, but no hesitation. Lifting her arms over her head until she flattened her palms against the headboard, she arched her back enough to help him lift the shirt higher.

Fucking hell, every inch of skin he revealed left him harder than he'd thought possible. Her skin grew softer and softer the higher the shirt went, until the bottom curves of her large breasts were bare to him. He stopped, pulling the shirt tight across her nipples. With superhuman effort, he managed to hang on to his control.

"John. More."

He slowly lifted the shirt to reveal her tight, pink nipples. Dark pink. Everything else about her was so fair he could've mistaken her for a Norse goddess. But she was real. And she was in his bed.

"You are so beautiful," he told her, just in case she hadn't figured out how badly he wanted her. The story Liam had told him about the fuckwit who'd deceived her echoed in his brain. "So fucking beautiful. I want every lush inch of you, Gwen."

She moved suddenly, crunching up and whipping her shirt over her head. Bare from the waist up, wearing only white cotton panties from the waist down, her hair streaming over her shoulders, she was his every fantasy come to life.

"Your stomach is amazing," she said with reverence. She pressed her hands to his abs, and he tightened them. Why the hell not? He spent enough time sculpting them. The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips, a sight so erotic he barely clung to his self-control. Wrapping his fingers through her hair, he tilted his mouth across hers, seeking and stroking her tongue the way he wanted to delve into every other part of her body. She stretched up, her breasts flattening against his abs. Still he kissed her, held her, desire wrapping through every part of him.

Her hands refused to settle anywhere for long. They swept over his chest, pressed against his cheeks. Her fingernails teased his scalp before her touch moved downward again, sliding over his shoulders, down his back to the waistband of his briefs. Then below. He forced himself to stay as still as possible, but he couldn't control his breath, panting hard against her neck as he hunched over her on his hands and knees. Nor could he control the shiver that rippled through him at the obscene pleasure of her touch. "Don't stop. Don't—wait. No. Stop. Stop."

She stopped and he wanted to shout, Don't stop! But he was on a razor's edge, and he didn't want to disappoint her their first time together.

Or any time they were together—because they would do this a lot. Intuition and the desperation pumping through him told him that. One touch, one taste, it wouldn't be enough. He let his gaze rake over her flushed, mostly naked body. Oh yeah. They would do this a lot.

Still straddling her, he rose to kneel and slipped his fingers under her panties, but she stopped him. "How's your head? Does it hurt?"

"Terribly."

Her brows drew together. "Oh. Is that why you asked me to stop?"

"Mmm-hmm. My head's throbbing and feels like it'll explode any second now." He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his erection. "See?"

The concerned nurse faded away in a heartbeat, replaced by a naughty one. "Maybe I should kiss it and make it better."

Yes yes yes. But he couldn't speak. He was helpless to do anything but watch. His head—the one up north—did throb now, but fuck if he would tell her that. 

Her hot breath whispered against his most sensitive flesh. "I can't believe you're so big."

The familiar words took a second to sink in. Then he remembered—on the night they'd met, he'd jokingly told her that he'd wanted to hear her say them. He cupped Gwen's cheek and tilted her head back. Leaning over, he yanked open the drawer of his nightstand where he'd stashed an extra box of condoms the day after they'd met. Never again would he leave a woman on his couch long enough to have second thoughts. The movement made pressure build behind his eyes, and black spots danced across his vision.

Goddamn bruised brain.

Suiting up, he tugged Gwen's panties down her legs. "I'll do so much better next time, Gwen. I promise."

He didn't know if he was even making sense—or if the noises he made were actually intelligible words. Both heads felt ready to explode now, and his whole body ached with the things he wanted to promise her. That the next time they were together, he would last all night long, make her beg in any language she spoke. Kiss her until she lost all language and could only moan.

But for now that was him. He was the helpless one. Desperate not to lose control completely and wake up the whole household with his orgasmic shouts, he gathered Gwen close and kept his thrusts small but forceful. Soon the keening sounds she made in his ear urged him to thrust harder, faster, until she bit down hard on her own fist and came apart with a muted cry.

His whole body exploded, and the black dots that had been dancing around his vision exploded too, a supernova of pleasure and pain dragging him into unconsciousness.

***

Dear Reader,

Uh oh! John's in trouble. What do you think will happen next?

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