Page 71 of Lock ’N’ Load

“Because I—” Because she didn’t just like him. Even she knew the signs. I’m falling in love with him. But she couldn’t say that. “Because I thought it was time, and I wanted you to be the one.” Not an outright lie. Just a shitload of omission.

Matt brushed the backs of his knuckles down her cheek, then rolled her onto her back. “I’m honored you chose me to be your first.” Then he kissed her deeply, settling between her thighs.

This time, when he entered her, there was no pain, only the smooth slide of him as he slipped inside her moist walls. Throughout it all, he kissed her, murmuring sexy words that once again had her writhing with pleasure, digging her nails into his back and shoulders, reveling in the flex and play of all those muscles as he rocked into her.

Pressure built in her womb, intensifying until she could no longer keep her eyes open. She gripped his ass, and with each stroke, pulled him in deeper. He picked up his pace, pumping faster, shoving them higher up on the mattress.

“Baby,” he breathed against her ear. “Baby, let it go. Jesus, let it go.”

Electric pulses shot from her belly outward, and she arched upward, crying out as the orgasm spiraled through her body. She clung to Matt as the aftershocks crashed over her, one after another until she was gasping for air.

With his arms wrapped around her back, he pushed deeper inside her and went rigid. He groaned, then spasmed against her.

They stayed that way, pressed together with him still inside her as their breathing slowed. Minutes later, he withdrew, then picked her up and carried her into the bathroom. He set her on her feet while he adjusted the shower spray, holding out his hand while she stepped in. Picking up a washcloth, he began gently washing away the thin smears of blood on her upper thighs, his muscles bunching and flexing as he washed her ever so gently. When he was finished, he proceeded to soap up and scrub her entire body clean.

Trista closed her eyes and held on to his waist for balance as she gave in to the sensation of his hands sliding over her slick skin and the heady emotions cradling her like a warm mist.

She was thirty-three, ancient for a virgin, and until now, it had been an embarrassment she’d kept to herself. But tonight…in the warmth of the shower and the safety of Matt’s arms…she was glad she’d saved herself for someone special. And he was special. She knew that with every fiber of her being.

Just as she knew that with every moment she spent with him, she was falling more deeply, and more desperately, in love.

Chapter Twenty

Matt didn’t know what woke him. The sound of Sheba’s light snores on the floor beside the bed or Trista’s warm, wispy breath against his neck.

She lay on her belly, snuggled against his side with her head on his shoulder and her arm draped across his chest. Strands of her thick, honey-blond hair tickled his chin, and he couldn’t resist rubbing a few locks between his fingers.

Smiling to himself, he wanted to laugh. He was all but sandwiched by the two females in his life. Trista on the bed, Sheba beside them on the floor. After making love to Trista again, he’d fallen into such a deep, dreamless sleep, he hadn’t heard Sheba get up to change locations.

Trista shifted, sliding her hand to his abdomen, making his cock begin to harden beneath the sheet. He wanted her again, but being that this was her first time, she’d be sore. He didn’t want to hurt her.

Why she’d chosen him was something he couldn’t wrap his brain around. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he didn’t deserve her, and he hadn’t even known she was a virgin then. Finding out had not only shocked the hell out of him, it had humbled him. No other woman had ever made him feel special, but she had. Her virginity was a precious gift, one he would treasure for the rest of his life.

Making love to her had been mind-blowing. She’d surprised him with how sensual and instinctive she was. After showering, he’d let her explore his body with her hands, lips, teeth, and tongue, loving every moment. For a virgin, her inherent sense of just how to drive his body crazy with need was beyond amazing. Then it hit him. He was thirty-six years old, but he’d never really made love to a woman. Until now.

Over the years, he’d had lots of sex with lots of different women, some he’d even briefly referred to as his girlfriend, but with Trista, it was different. To her, he’d given more than just his body, although he didn’t quite know what it was. All he knew was that last night, he’d wanted to go all out to make her feel good. Not that he hadn’t made any of his previous sex partners feel good. From their responses, he definitely had, but with Trista, he’d gone way overboard, wanting to make her first time something she’d never forget. And afterward, he’d felt something more. Something he’d never truly felt with a woman.

Contentment and…happiness.

He was falling for her. This little pixie draped over his chest had begun to dig her way into his heart. He couldn’t deny it, and he couldn’t allow it. Nothing had changed.

I don’t deserve to be happy.

Fuck, will I ever get past that?

For the first time in his adult life, he considered finding the answer to that question. Not anytime soon. Not with the annual banquet commemorating Jerry’s death coming up in a couple months.

After his best friend’s death, Jerry’s parents had created a foundation that donated money to a different worthy charity every year. Ironically, he’d just gotten his nonprofit community service status and was now eligible to receive charitable donations for Jerry’s Place. A moot point, since Jerry’s parents would never consider giving his place a dime.

Mr. and Mrs. Wilshire never pushed for a criminal investigation, nor had they come after his family for any civil responsibility. But Matt hadn’t had any contact with his friend’s family in twenty years—since the day of Jerry’s funeral. And given the family’s state of shock, even that contact had been minimal.

He knew it was a lame excuse, but confronting the demons of his past would have to wait. Protecting Trista and finding out what the hell was going on were his priorities. No way in hell would he let anything happen to her.

Trista let out a sleepy sigh and stretched, her arm slipping lower to rest on his upper thigh. Before she could fully wake, he slipped from the bed, carefully stepping over Sheba.

“What time is it?” She rested on her forearms, her full breasts mounding on the mattress.

He resisted the urge to slide back into bed and hit the repeat button. “Time to get up.”