“You do the same for me.” I grip the chair arms and brace myself as I move in to kiss her, again and again. Simple little brushes of my mouth against hers. “I love you,” I whisper against her lips. “So damn much. And I believe in you. I wish you could believe in yourself just as much.” I want to reassure her. Convince her how f**king unbelievable she is. Try to make her see how much I love her, how much she means to me.

How much I need her.

Bryn

I’M COMPLETELY SURROUNDED by Matt, and I love it. He looks so good in his white button-down shirt and dark jeans, smelling of the outdoors, his hair a little mussed, his skin burnished from the sun. His mouth is on mine, firm and insistent as he continues to kiss me. I part my lips, his tongue delving inside, meeting mine, and a little moan escapes me at first contact, a riot of butterflies seeming to flutter just beneath my skin.

“I love you too,” I say when we break apart. Our breathing is accelerated, and I stare at his mouth, wishing it was back on mine. He reaches for me, his hands gripping my waist as he plucks me from the chair and places me on the edge of the desk.

He settles in his chair directly in front of me and reaches beneath my skirt, his hands gently gripping the inside of my knees as he slowly spreads my legs apart. “Remember that time I f**ked you on my desk?” he asks, his eyes full of wicked intent.

A shiver moves through me at his choice of words and the memories. There have been plenty of times when we’ve messed around in his office. We’ve always been so hot for each other, especially at the beginning of our relationship . . .

We’d just started dating and he’d pulled me into the office, locking the door behind us. I’d been facing the desk, and Matt had pushed me forward over it, taking me from behind. I quickly discovered he liked it that way, which was unbelievably hot. But he likes sex pretty much any way, as long as the two of us are involved.

He’s done amazing things, that Matthew DeLuca. Always making me feel wanted and boosting my ego.

“From what I remember, you’ve f**ked me on your desk a couple of times.” I reach out and trace my fingers down the front of his shirt, along the row of buttons. I slip the top one undone, and then the next, my gaze locked on his chest as his skin is slowly revealed behind every button that comes free. “You did lock the door, right?”

Matt chuckles, massaging my inner thighs with the tips of his fingers. “Oh yeah. Because I definitely plan on f**king you on this desk again.”

I finish unbuttoning his shirt and push it off his shoulders. He takes over, shaking it off so it lands on the floor, and I’m confronted with a wall of solid masculine flesh. I love how he’s built. All broad shoulders and firm muscle, the faintest amount of hair at the center of his chest—he’s beautiful. Warmth radiates from his skin, and his scent wraps all around me as I inhale deeply, breathing him in.

He’s addictive. Intoxicating. I can’t get enough of this man.

“We need to hurry,” I whisper before I press my lips to his chest, just above his right pectoral. “I have a meeting in fifteen minutes.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to miss it,” Matt says as he pushes the fabric of my skirt up until my thighs are completely exposed. “Or at the very least, you’ll be late. I’m sure your business partner won’t mind though.”

“My partner is supposed to be in this meeting too so we can’t miss it. And we really shouldn’t be late.” I reach for the waistband of his jeans and slowly undo his fly. “The people meeting with us are known to be very punctual.”

“Damn,” Matt mutters, shaking his head. He stands, grabs hold of my waist and pulls me to the very edge of the desk so my ass is half hanging off. “Guess I’ll have to make it quick then.”

His mouth returns to mine before I can say another word, his punishing kiss deep and hot and wet. I wrap my arms around his neck, gasping when he reaches for my panties. We make quick work of each other’s clothes, hands and mouths everywhere, and his erection probing at my entry within seconds.

“Please,” I whimper, spreading my legs as wide as I can. “Matt. I need you.” I feel greedy. Empty without him inside me.

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. Matt pulls me forward as he thrusts, his c**k imbedding deep. I lean back and rest my hands on the desk, wishing I was completely na**d, wishing I could feel every blessed inch of him against me.

But this is going to be quick. Fast and easy and delicious and wicked. I watch him as he starts to move, his expression pained, his movements deliberate. He always puts such care into what we do, and I love it. I love him. I’m overwhelmed with the emotion that I have for this man, and I close my eyes. Losing myself in the way he rocks against me over and over, filling me completely, his hands everywhere at once.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice deep and thick with tension like it usually is just before he cl**axes. “I love you so much, Bryn. I can’t get enough of you.”

“Yes,” I whisper, cracking my eyes open to find him watching me. “I love you too, Matt.”

“I wanna make you come,” he mutters as he starts to move faster, his breathing choppy as he hovers above me.

“Make me come, Matt. Touch me,” I whisper, urging him on, loving the appreciative growl he gives in response to my provoking words.

He touches my clit, circles it with his thumb before he presses hard. I concentrate on the way he moves inside of me, how thick he feels, the friction that’s created between us like we’re trying to spark a fire. I feel like we really could almost light a blaze, the attraction is so strong.

Murmuring encouragement, he circles my cl*tharder as he increases his pace. I move with him, desperate to find that delicious feeling again. Matt is the only one who can make me feel so good, so right. So completely, utterly myself.

I was never comfortable in my own skin; not until I met Matt.

“Don’t stop,” I say, my breath hitching when he touches me in a particular way, in a particular spot. “Just like that,” I encourage, whimpering with every stroke of his fingers, every stroke of his tongue. “Oh God, Matt. Please . . .”

“Come for me, Bryn,” he commands as if he knows just how close I am. I explode, my entire body wracking with shudders as the orgasm takes me completely over. I shudder and shake in his arms lifting away from the desk, so I can grip him and hold him close. He lets me but never slows his pace, pushing again and again until he’s the one who’s shouting and coming inside of me so hard, I swear at one point I’m afraid he’s going to collapse on top of me, and I won’t be able to move ever again.

“Well,” he says a few minutes later. “That was . . . good.”

I start to laugh. “More than good.”

“We’re good for each other,” he says softly, his fingers threading through my already mussed-up hair. “Don’t you think?”

“I don’t think, I know.” I smile and snuggle close to him, loving how cherished he makes me feel, how much he loves me. “I love you, Matt. I’m glad you crossed the line and decided to pursue me.”

Now it’s his turn to laugh. “I love you too. And I’m real f**king glad I decided to cross that line. I owe a lot of my pursuit to Ivy and Marina.”

“I know. The makeover and all that.” Those girls worked their hardest to put the two of us together and for that, I’ll be forever grateful to them.

“Not just that. They talked you up before the makeover,” he says, shocking me. “Once they nabbed their men, they decided I needed someone too. Which means I’m the one who won that damn bet, and I intend to finally collect.”

Oh God, the bet. How could I forget? I assume Archer and Gage wish Matt would forget about it. “When are you going to collect? And how?”

“I already put in a call to both of those jackasses and made my request.” When I remain quiet, he sighs. “I asked them to donate the amount to their favorite charity and be done with it.”

“Awww.” I kiss him, loving how thoughtful he is. Someday I am definitely going to marry this man. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“No, you are. Seriously.” He rests his hand against my cheek, forcing me to stare into his eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Bryn. You helped me turn my life around. Helped me find love. I owe it all to you.”

“Matt.” My voice trembles and we kiss, his lips lingering on mine. “I love you.” I can’t say it enough.

“I love you too. You’re mine, Bryn. You’re stuck with me.” He grins. “I hope you don’t mind.”

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter Eight

* * *

Archer

One month since Jackson’s birth

I WALK INTO the living room to find my wife curled up on the couch, little Jackson nestled in her arms as she feeds him. When I realize she hasn’t noticed me yet, I stop short and watch them for a quiet moment.

She looks good, still carrying a little extra weight, but I think those curves are sexy. Her hair is loose, falling far past her shoulders, and she’s wearing an oversized pale blue T-shirt and black leggings. The shirt is yanked up over her chest and Jackson’s dark head is pressed close to her breast. She’s staring down at him, cooing unintelligible sounds as she strokes his hair and face.

Love overwhelms me and sticks in my throat, making it impossible for me to speak. I’m damn lucky to have these two in my life. I don’t know what I did to earn this.

But I’m not questioning it. I’m eternally thankful for my Ivy and my Jackson.

“Why, Daddy . . . are you spying on us?” Ivy asks, her quiet voice interrupting my thoughts.

Chuckling, I settle on the couch beside her. “What if I am?”

“I might call you a creeper.” She shrugs with a little smile just as Jackson falls off her nipple to blink up at me with wide, fathomless, blue eyes.

“You don’t think I’m a creeper, do you, Jackson?” I reach out and touch his lips, then trace his chubby little cheek. He’s a beautiful baby—though I’m probably biased—and he’s fairly easy. Though when he’s mad or upset, he definitely lets us know. The kid has a set of lungs on him that won’t quit.

I try my best to help, which still kind of blows my mind since I didn’t have a good fatherly example growing up. My dad was never around, but I’m determined to be the complete opposite of him. He acts like I’m a nuisance most of the time, even now, though he does dote on his grandchild. Somehow, Jackson has brought my family closer together.

Jackson has also brought Ivy and me closer. I’m stunned at how much I love my wife, how much my love grows for her day in and day out. She’s a wonderful mother, a great wife—my passion for her is at an all-time high.

Yet I haven’t touched her in weeks. I can’t. It’s been over a month—since before Jackson’s birth. I miss feeling her na**d skin against mine, miss burying myself inside of her.

The doctor said six weeks, and I don’t want to hurt her or put her at risk. It can’t be easy, pushing an eight pound baby out of your body. She moved like an old woman those first few weeks when she came home from the hospital, but now she’s acting so much more like her pre-baby, normal self, that I’m hopeful.

But I won’t push. I’ll wait the six weeks. It’s the right thing to do, no matter how much it’s slowly killing me.

“Jackson loves his daddy.” Ivy hooks her nursing bra back together and pulls her shirt down, then lifts the baby up so she can burp him. Jackson’s struggling to lift his head already and look at me. A surge of love flows through me, and I touch his head, stroking his soft dark hair as Ivy pats his back repeatedly. A huge burp escapes him, making me laugh, and Ivy grimaces at me.

“Don’t encourage him,” she murmurs. “He’ll turn into such a guy.”

“Babe, I’m afraid he is a guy.” I take Jackson from her and hold him close, breathing in his sweet baby scent, loving the way his head knocks into my jaw as he struggles. Little noises escape him, snorts and coos and funny sounds that make me smile.

Man, I love this kid. I can’t believe Ivy and I created him, that he’s a part of me. I hope only the good parts.

“You’re going to teach him all your bad habits aren’t you?”

“Nah.” I shake my head. “I don’t want him to be anything like me.” Well, the bad me. The old me. I’m not that man anymore. Ivy changed me. More like, she made me want to change so I’d be a better man for her.

“What? You don’t want him to be sweet and funny and hardworking?”

I turn my head to look at her. “You think that about me?”

She rolls her eyes. “Duh. Why do you think I married you? You’re smart and sexy and thoughtful. You’re a good husband and father. Why wouldn’t you want your boy to be just like you?”

My chest swells with pride. “I like hearing you say that,” I admit. “I feel the same way about you.”

“You think I’m a good husband and father? Gee, thanks.” She punches me in the arm, making me laugh.

“You know what I mean.” I kiss Jackson’s forehead, then his cheeks. I can’t stop kissing my baby. Matt and Gage make fun of my ass, but I don’t care. “You’re a good wife and mother. You amaze me every day, what you do for me and for Jackson.”

“Aw.” She leans in and goes to kiss my cheek, but I turn my head at the last minute so she kisses my lips instead. “You are too sweet. And speaking of doing something for someone else . . . did you make that donation yet?”