Emilie Rose - Perfect Match

He produced his piece of the puzzle and aligned it with hers. “No need. I’m your man.”

“Match!” shrieked Sandy from the living room, confirming Tate’s matchmaking theory. God bless little sisters. He took back every negative thing he’d ever said about the baby of the family.

“Know what that means, Faith?” He took the tumbler out of her hand and set it on the credenza.

She shifted on her feet and bit her luscious bottom lip. “No.”

“It means we get to simulate the interlocking puzzle pieces with our bodies.” Damn, he couldn’t wait. He barely restrained himself from rubbing his hands in glee.

Scowling, she looked at her piece. It had the jutting male projection, whereas his had the indented female shape. The pieces fit together perfectly-just as he and Faith had that night. A moment passed and then Faith lifted her hands to his shoulders. He cupped her waist, and his heart thumped in expectation of her tongue in his mouth, but then she swiftly lifted her knee toward his groin. He sucked in a swift breath and tensed in anticipation of pain.

She stopped just short of her target. “Need I continue?”

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