Her gaze was still raking his body, drinking him in, and it seemed to take her a considerable amount of effort to shift her eyes to meet his. “Um, yes,” she finally said, pushing a hand through her hair. “Yes. More than all right.” A wash of color had spread across her cheeks, and Matthew bit back a grin.

“Good. Because that was your last chance to back out.” Cupping her cheek, he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. Sally’s mouth opened almost immediately and Matthew’s tongue quickly slipped inside. Finding hers, he deepened the kiss, enjoying the way she responded to him. She was eager, skilled and sexy, and he figured her nakedness was way overdue.

Breaking the kiss, he grinned as she gave a mewl of protest. “Remember what I said?”

Frowning, she shook her head.

“Oh I think you do, sweetheart. But in the interests of moving things along, I’ll remind you. I said that once I was naked it was your turn.”

“I do like man who’s prepared,” came a voice.

Grinning up at Sally, he said, “What can I say? I’m a responsible type of chap.”

Moving past him and unlocking the door, she ushered him in. “Not too responsible, I hope.” She winked, then turned and closed the door.

“No.” Shoving his wallet hurriedly back into his pocket, he spun her around and backed her up against the wall. Bringing his face up close to hers, Matthew breathed, “Not too responsible.”

Just before he closed the gap between them, Sally gasped, “Ooh, good.”

Shutting his eyes and slanting his mouth over hers, Matthew had to concentrate hard on not coming on too strong or rough. It had been a while and he didn’t want to make Sally regret inviting him into her bed. Well she hadn’t invited him into her bed, exactly. Just a bed, and his own hadn’t been an option in case Isaac had come home.

As he put his hands on her hips, she arched her back and wrapped her arms around his neck, moving eagerly into his embrace. Matthew marveled at how warm she was, how responsive. And how damn sexy. Slipping his tongue between her lips, he sought out hers, tangling them together in an erotic, needy, toe-curling French kiss. He could taste the white wine she’d drunk and he guessed she could probably taste the whisky he’d had. It was a heady mixture that quickly pushed them higher into bliss, into a more heated, passionate clinch, one that had them gasping for air in no time at all.

Her breasts squished against his chest, and in return his rigid cock pressed insistently against her stomach. Twisting her face away from his, she said breathlessly, “Fuck. I think we’d better hurry and get upstairs before we end up doing it right against this damn wall.”

Matthew’s cock twitched—he had no problem at all with fucking her up against the wall, but she was right. Going to bed was a much better option, one that would give him the luxury of undressing her, drinking in the sight of her body, then exploring it with his hands, mouth and finally his dick. He could hardly wait.