Page 74 of Meet Cute or Your Money Back

Thatcher

The door swings open with a nudge of my boot, and I step inside Allie’s apartment, her body light in my arms. The scent of her hair is intoxicating, a mix of vanilla and something wild that I can’t quite place—a fragrance that’s as enigmatic as the woman herself.

I kick the door shut behind us and Biscuit is at our feet dancing around us in greeting. My chest is tight with nerves as I lay her down gently on the couch, then bend down to pet Biscuit, greeting him.

She smiles and her eyes, those damn expressive hazel pools, are wide with anticipation and something that looks like wonder. It’s enough to drive any remaining common sense straight out of my head.

“Thatcher,” she breathes out, and there’s that cheeky undertone, the one that always seems to be laced with a dare. She’s challenging me without saying much at all, and it’s more than I can bear.

“Dammit, Allie,” I mutter under my breath. The world outside these four walls has no shortage of dangers—dangers that I know all too well. But right here, right now, with Allie looking at me like I’m the only man in existence, those threats seem miles away.

And then it hits me—the sheer insanity of it all. Here I am, Thatcher Bryant, the guy who’s spent the better part of his life building walls so high that I sometimes forget what lies beyond them. Yet somehow, Allie Larsen has breezed past my defenses like they were nothing but cobwebs in a stiff wind.

I’m not supposed to feel this way. I’m not supposed to want her like I do. My life is a battlefield, and love...love is a luxury I can’t afford. But as I look down at her, everything else falls away. Maybe it’s the way her brows furrow ever so slightly, or how her lips part just enough to drive a man to madness.

“Thatcher?” she whispers, and that’s all it takes.

All the pent-up emotions, the frustration, the longing—they crash over me, and I can’t hold back any longer. I lean down and capture her mouth with mine, pouring every ounce of my restrained passion into the kiss. It’s fierce and gentle all at once, a clash of desperation and tenderness that leaves us both breathless.

Her fingers thread through my hair, pulling me closer, and I oblige without a moment’s hesitation. Our mouths move together with an urgency that speaks of the time we’ve wasted dancing around what’s been simmering between us. There’s no room for doubts or fears, not when every touch screamsfinally.

And as we lose ourselves in the intensity of the moment, I realize that maybe, just maybe, some things are worth risking it all—even for a battle-scarred soldier like me.

My hands roam over Allie’s body with a hunger I can’thide, tracing the curves and valleys that I didn’t realize I’d been memorizing from afar for weeks. She’s fire under my touch, her every gasp and moan stoking the flames.

“Please,” she breathes against my lips, her voice laced with the same urgency that’s coursing through my veins.

“God, Allie,” is all I can manage in return before our words are lost, replaced by the sound of racing hearts and rustling fabric. Everything else falls away; there’s no more shadows lurking in the corners of my mind—just Allie, here and now, with me.

I lift her once more and cross the living room into the bedroom. The sheets become our world, twisting around us as we move together, driven by a raw passion that neither of us can control. I’m aware of nothing but the heat between us, the slickness of her skin, and the way she looks at me like I’m the only man in existence.

Her fingers tuck into the waist of my pants, tugging me down on top of her, her mouth skating along the scruff of my chin. Her breath, sweet with wine, skims over me as she whispers, “Are we really doing this?”

Her palms slide up beneath my shirt, her fingernails teasing and drawing little trails along my abs. “God, I hope so,” I confess. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t if you won’t.”

Then, her fingers pop open the button of my pants and slide down my boxer briefs, palming my cock. I can’t help grunting, but I also notice her little gasp as she wraps her hand around me and strokes my length.

“Well, hel-lo, Captain Daddy.”

She laughs and I drop my head, burying my smile in her shoulder. But her own laugh fuses into a moan when I find her neck, nibbling down across the shoulder strap ofher dress.

There’s way too much fabric between us. I grab the bottom of her dress and tug it easily off over her head, leaving her laying there in front of me in a matching pale blue bra and panty set.

It’s exquisite against her tan skin. Impatient, she reaches out, peeling my shirt from my shoulders and tossing it off the side of the bed. Then, just as quickly, I shuck my pants off and kick them away.

I bend, placing a kiss on the exposed, warm curve of her shoulder and with an arch of her back, she draws me closer, pressing against me.

I flick open the middle clasp of her bra and it falls open, exposing her lush breasts and rose-colored taut nipples that beg to be worshipped. Her hair is the definition of bedhead; her lips are plump and swollen from our kisses. And she’s absolute perfection.

I haven’t had sex in years. Literal years. Penance, perhaps? But also, I haven’t had time. Not with raising my son and running a business and hunting down Drakon.

But right now, none of those reasons for my celibacy matter. I have to have this woman before me.

“You’re thinking too much,” she whispers and reaches up to drag her finger down the center of my brow. “Stop.” Then, she hooks her thumbs into her panties and shimmies them down her silky, muscular thighs, leaving her gloriously bare for me.

Groaning softly, I lean forward and take the tip of her breast into my mouth, sucking hard, loving the little gasp that escapes her lips before parting them.

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