Isla stiffened in surprise.

Matthew's large hand slid to cup the back of her neck, his warm mouth demanding on hers, and her knees went weak. He tasted of whisky and salt, of bruised plum and pepper. She could feel all the hard ridges of his body, molded with years of racing. Oh. So this was why women were ruined after kissing Matthew Carr.

She had only a moment to think it before the door sprang open.

"Carr," the male voice called. "Did you hear what I said about Emilio? And we're out of booze, you fuckwit. Have you seen—? Oh." Snickers. "Sorry. We'll come back later."

The door shut.

Isla leaned back slightly. Her heart was racing, pumping vigorously in her chest, and she couldn't look away from Matthew's flushed face. His lips were swollen from kissing, his black tie rumpled. He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

You're drunk, Isla thought hazily. And this isn't real.

None of it seemed to matter.

"I think they're still outside," Isla whispered.

It wasn't true. They both knew it. But Matthew made a noise at the back of his throat, half-lifting her on to a desk. His hard body formed a cage around her, and she ran her hands over his stomach, marveling at the ridges. Heat curled in her stomach. His mouth fell to her neck, teasing the sensitive skin.

"You should make noises," Matthew suggested. "Since they're outside. Lots of them."

Her breath caught. "Any suggestions?"

"My name." His mouth drifted lower. "Repeatedly."

She buried her hands in his hair. "What if you're not that inspiring?"

"Oh, I am."

"Prove it," Isla said hoarsely.

His grin was a flash in the darkness. "You're going to regret asking me that, Red."

Matthew tore out her hair ribbon. Heavy curls fell over her bare shoulders, spilling around them like crimson silk. Isla watched, breathless, as Matthew eased her dress down. He paused at her lacy white bra — a silent question — and she nodded. He made quick work of that, pausing as he drank in her bare chest.

"Beautiful." There was awe in his voice. "All of you is beautiful, Isla Morris."

Matthew wound a lock of hair around his finger, dragging it over her breast. Her nipple hardened. She half-closed her eyes, tingles of pleasure running through her. Then Matthew dipped his head, replacing the lock with his warm mouth.

A cry tore from her throat.

"Matthew," she gasped.

"Ah," he murmured. "That's better."

Isla fisted her hands in his hair. Her heart pounded wildly in her ribcage, her breath coming in sporadic bursts. This was madness, she thought. Hell, they weren't even dating. But Matthew's mouth was doing wicked things to her body, and she wasn't sure that she had the strength to push him away.

"Do you want this?" Matthew's fingers slid up her thigh, tracing lazy circles. "Do you want me, Isla?"

She swallowed. "None of this is real."

"It can be," he said.

"For tonight?"

Something flickered in his eyes. "If that's what you want."

Isla shivered. His hand was growing dangerously high. A growing ache pulsed between her thighs, and she squirmed against his touch. Matthew shuddered, his hand growing still. "Don't." His voice was rough. "Don't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because..." His blue eyes were dark and hungry. "My self-control is in dangerously low supply tonight, Isla. Don't test it right now."

She met his gaze. "Do you want me?"

Matthew's mouth quirked. "Is that a real question?"

"Yes."

Matthew pressed down, hard enough that she could feel his arousal straining against his dress pants. "What do you think?"

Liquid heat rushed through her. Slowly — deliberately — Isla reached up, pulling his face down to her. She kissed him urgently, letting her instincts guide her. Matthew made a noise at the back of his throat. He pinned her to the desk.

"I'll take that as a yes," he murmured.

Her dress went first. His trousers. Her shoes. His boxers. Isla's entire body was coiling tight, a strange tension building and building. Matthew slipped a finger between her thighs, and she almost cried out at the sensation of it. Primitive desire flashed over his face.

"Fuck," Matthew hissed. "Seeing you like this..." He shook his head, leaning over to kiss her. "I could watch you forever."

Matthew's finger stroked back and forth, working up a frenzied heat, and her head kicked back. She was hardly aware of the noises she was making. Hardly aware of anything except for Matthew's peppery cologne, his hot kisses on her neck. She wasn't even sure if she was breathing. Tremors ran through her body.

"Matthew," she gasped. "I can't— I'm so close—"

"Good girl." His mouth found her ear. "Keep going."

"Please." Throbbing heat filled her, so bright it was almost painful. "Please."

"Some day I want to taste you," Matthew murmured. "All of you." His finger coaxed the tight bundle of nerves at her center. "I want to taste you until you're begging me to fuck you. But not tonight."

She inhaled sharply. "No?"

"No," Matthew said. "Tonight, I can't wait that long."

Matthew pressed down, and Isla toppled over the edge with a cry. She clung to his shoulders, shaking apart, whimpering something over and over. His name, she realized dizzily. She was saying Matthew. When Isla's heartrate finally slowed, Matthew's smile was pure male arrogance, and he kissed her deeply. Then he stood up to grab his trousers.

Cold air hit her.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Isla crossed her arms over her chest, shivering slightly. She felt like she'd eaten a dinner with no dessert. Seen the trailers but not the movie. Every part of her felt empty and unsatisfied. More, her body whispered. I want more.

Matthew's face grew wary. "Isla..."

"I want to, Matthew," she said softly.

"You're drunk." His voice was hard. "I won't do that to you."

"I sobered up ages ago," Isla said. "Please, Matthew. I want to." She hooked her legs around his waist, drawing him closer. "I want you."

Matthew shuddered, his eyes half-closing. "Stop, Isla." His throat bobbed. "I'm not enough of a gentleman to say no to you."

She stilled. "Don't you want me?"

A flash of anxiety filled her. Isla chewed her lip. Shit. Maybe she'd misread this entire situation. Oh, Matthew was attracted to her — she could feel the proof of it pressing against her — but maybe he didn't want her. Maybe he found her annoying. Or shallow. Or all the things that Lucas had found her, but worse.

Some part of her broke just thinking about it.

"Do I want you?" Matthew let out a choked laugh. "Fuck, Isla, I spend my days wondering when I'll see you next. I spend my nights dreaming of you. Hell, I almost drove off the track in Spain just thinking about you in that goddamn nightgown. Yes, I want you." His hands moved to cup her ass. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything."

She licked her lips, her heart racing. Matthew's gaze darted down to her mouth, and he made a pained noise.

"Oh, fuck it," he growled.

Matthew pushed her on to the desk. There was something predatory in his eyes, something almost dangerous, and for the first time, Isla could see the man that the newspapers talked about. The impulsive, crazy driver that would do anything to win. He positioned himself at her entrance.

"Last chance," he warned her.

"Yes," she breathed. "Matthew, yes."

It was all he needed to hear.

Matthew sank into her. She let out a gasp as pleasure radiated through her, and Matthew groaned, his head dropping to her shoulder. He pounded against her, a shocking, bruising rhythm, and all the breath went out of her.

"Oh, my god," Isla groaned. "Matthew."

Something about the word seemed to ignite him. Matthew drove into her again and again, his movements precise and vicious. She raised a hand to touch him — to brush his jaw — but Matthew pinned it to the desk, as if the very feel of it might undo him.

"Look at me, baby," Matthew said roughly. "I want you to look at me." He rotated her face, his hand unbearably gentle. "Keep looking at me."

"Matthew," she gasped.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," Matthew breathed. "I don't want anybody else to see you like this. Ever." His voice was jealous. Possessive. "Only me. Do you understand that?"

"Yes." She would promise him anything. Everything, so long as he didn't stop. "Whatever you want, Matthew."

"Good," he growled.

Matthew redoubled his efforts, and Isla's head fell back. Shockwaves of pleasure filled her, reverberating down to her very core. She gasped as her body came undone, and Matthew followed a moment later, her name spilling from his lips. They lay in the darkness as their heartrates slowed, their bodies turning to liquid.

A long moment passed.

"There was never anyone outside the door," Matthew said finally.

His words were a challenge. Deny it, his eyes said. I dare you. But Isla didn't want to deny it. She couldn't, anymore.

"I know," she whispered.

Matthew's arms tightened around her. "So where do we go from here?"

"You know what?" Isla tipped her head back to look at him. "For once, I have absolutely no idea."