There should have been some kind of rule, some kind of warning in place. Fantasies weren’t supposed to just… happen. And crushes weren’t supposed to step forward like Matt just did, with that look in his green eyes - Ha! Kind of like her new tomcat, Tom - and grab her like she was one of those babes off a romance cover.<br/><br/><br/><i>Leave your thighs wet.</i><br/><br/><br/>The words that rolled off his tongue left her own mouth dry as cotton and caused her pupils to dilate wide. A fresh wave of desire perfumed the air and coated her lips with a fresh coating of arousal. Her clit throbbed underneath the hood of skin it hid underneath, enough that her thighs pressed together, released, and the rest of her stumbled forward against him shaking. She caught the front of his shirt when he grabbed her close, her breath leaving in a shaky sigh as her shocked stare caught the self-assured gleam in his eye.<br/><br/><br/>“Matt,” she said. One word. But that one word was filled with shock, desire, awe, curiosity, intrigue. Her insides clenched when she felt his fingertips brush through the short hairs left behind by her razor to dip deeper, touching her where the sticky-wet of desire clung to his skin. She had to swallow hard when she felt the smell of her back hit the edge of the counter. Quivering, shuddering, her thighs fell open of their own accord, welcoming the probe of his fingers where her vibrator hadn’t gone.<br/><br/><br/>She lost her moan against his kiss that followed as her own lips parted, then melted, against the firmness of his mouth. Her little gasp rasped in the back of her throat and her fingers curled around his shoulder, still gripping the fabric of his shirt - tugging him close even - as the electric shock of first contact rolled through her body in a delicious shiver.