Page 49 of Match Me if You Can

I deepen the kiss, draw my hand in further, cupping her breast, massaging the lush globe and groaning when I feel the hardened bud of her nipple against my palm.

She’s groaning too, arching into my touch.

There’s too much fucking fabric in the way.

I release her tit, dart my hand down, dipping it under the hem of her shirt. Instantly, I’m rewarded with hot, silken skin and then the sweetest abrasion of lace covering those gorgeous breasts of hers.

A tug has the cup of her bra out of my way, and we both moan when my palm meets her bare flesh.

“Princess,” I rasp, head spinning as I tear my lips from hers, both of our breaths coming in rapid gulps.

“Shh,” she whispers, her fingers weaving into my hair as she tugs my head back down.

This kiss is just as explosive.

Maybe even more.

Because I’m touching her naked skin. Because I’m sliding my hand in her hair free, dragging it down her back and bringing it between us.

A shove has it beneath the waistband of her jeans.

One more has it in her underwear.

I brush my fingertips over the seam of her pussy, feeling the hot, silken heat of her desire, getting precisely one stroke over her clit when⁠—

Someone pounds on the bedroom door.

“Yo, bro!” Noble’s voice echoes through the wood. “Violet’s pancakes are getting cold!” Another pound and she all but leaps away from me, straightening her clothes, bending to pick up her hairpins. “Stop fucking around in there and get downstairs.” Another pound. “Get moving. I mean it.” A beat. “Otherwise I’m going to pick this lock and play voyeur.”

“Fuck off!” I shout, hating that Violet jumps and immediately modulating my voice. “We’ll be down when we’re good and ready.”

I look over at the puzzling woman who’s currently wrestling her hair back into that stupid tight bun of hers and sigh.

The ice is back.

And one glance is all it takes to show me it’s likely even thicker than before.

NINETEEN

Violet

Dumb. So fucking dumb.

My cheeks feel hot, my lips swollen, and it’s nearly impossible to ignore the knowing looks that are being tossed my way as I slog my way through my pancakes.

Slogging my way through pancakes.

Never thought I’d actually have that thought running through my head.

“Eat up, princess,” Ace murmurs. “You’ll need your strength for today.”

My brows drag together. “Why?”

“Pre-wedding festivities!” Joan crows. “Us girls are going for a spa day and the boys”—she flicks her hand dismissively—“are going to get into whatever trouble Ambrose boys get in to.”

“For the record,” Ace says, still murmuring, his words a velvety caress on my ear, “we can get into a lot of trouble.”

I think of skillful lips and a hard body—I think of an even harder cock pressing against my belly.