Matthew stared at her for a moment, eyes wide. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bouncing in comical fashion. “One time. I thought we agreed.”
“Yes, I know. But I’m willing to amend that agreement if you are.”
His lips pinched.
“Do not worry; I expect nothing of you beyond your body.”
At that, he gulped again, then flagged down the waiter. “Check, please.”
The words came out so quickly, she laughed. “I take that to be yes?”
“Yes. And we’ll remember the condom.”
She nodded quickly, ducking her head. As bold as she’d just been in inviting a man into her bed—or herself into his, rather—some things still embarrassed her.
“No strings attached, right?”
“No strings.”
“Okay. I texted Ben. Told him I’d bring you home later. Let’s go.”
He hopped up from the table, his long legs bumping against its edge, rattling the dishes on it. Other patrons looked at them, but he didn’t care. He only had eyes for Amara, his pulse pounding at her frank invitation, an invitation he’d been only too ready to accept.
Dinner had been pleasant, but his thoughts had continually strayed to the afternoon, to his mouth on hers, her mouth on him. Luckily, Amara had kept the conversation going, her questions making it easy for him to find something to say. He’d been more open than usual, but it’d been better than silently fantasizing about the woman across the table, his fingers itching to touch her, his mind on the things he wanted to do to her, with her, for her.
As he grabbed her hand and yanked her along behind him, she laughed, a full, throaty laugh that hit him in the stomach. God, she was sexy. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, such an attractive woman wanting sex and nothing more, but he’d take it.
The drive home was interminably long, though it probably took less time than usual, considering he’d hit every green light. Still, it wasn’t fast enough. Pulling into the lot, he’d barely thrown the truck into park before he leapt out of the seat. Amara hopped out of hers, as well, not waiting for him to come around to her door, as had been their habit.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the stairs, the sauciest grin on her face. “You are going to have to take me home one day, though,” she said as she climbed. “I need clean clothes.”
Never. I never want her to leave.
What the hell? The thought brought him up short, but he shook his head, dismissing it. It was his cock talking, not his intellect. He’d satisfy himself with her, and the craving would diminish. He’d never cared for having someone in his bed for anything other than sex. Sleeping next to a woman felt foreign, uncomfortable. He liked his space, his freedom.
He liked Amara’s ass, which swayed as she bounced up the stairs. He liked her other parts, too. Whipping out his house key, he unlocked and threw open the door, ignoring Lovey’s impatient greeting as he and Amara entered. He slammed the door shut, then turned to her, his hands grasping her face, his mouth finding hers as he pushed her up against the door.
“Oh my goodness, yes,” she breathed when his mouth left hers, tracing a trail to her jaw, to her neck. His hands slid up the insides of her sweater, stroking the soft skin of her stomach, the smoothness just under her breasts. Her hands wound themselves around his head, holding his face to hers. As if he’d ever want to leave.
He flexed his hips into her, delighting in her guttural moan as his hardness pressed against her softness. She lifted a leg, hooking it over his hip to allow him better access, and they moved together, their mouths simulating the action below.
A shrill meow interrupted them, and Lovey batted at Matt, sinking a claw into his foot. “Yeouch!” he cried, leaping away from Amara. “Lovey!”
Amara clapped her hand over her mouth, though the crinkling of her eyes betrayed her silent giggles. Matt glared at the cat, but then let out a chuckle himself. “Guess she’s hungry.”
“I guess she’s jealous.” Amara smirked at him. “And, well, I did actually want to make it to the bed this time.”
He ran a hand over his head, willing his body to slow down. “You’re right. Let me, uh, feed the cat, lest she interrupt us again. Meet me back there?”
Amara wasn’t sure what to do. She’d never been in a man’s bedchamber like this before and didn’t know the protocol. Should she disrobe? Wait for him to do that?
The room was sparsely furnished, like the rest of his apartment, though a massively large bed with a black frame took up the center of the space. She walked to it, running a hand along the foot post. Metal? Not nearly as appealing as wood, though the blackness was stark against the white of the walls. One wall, the wall opposite the bed, was taken up by a television screen larger than any she’d ever seen. How odd, to give screens such a prominent place in one’s sleeping area.
The door swished, and Matthew walked through. He stopped at the threshold, hooking his thumbs in his jean pockets. “You still sure, Amara?”
“I’m sure. But are you?”
“Hell, yes.” He strode to her, his hands coming around to grab her backside, squeezing it as he pebbled her face with small kisses. It was playful, affectionate, sexual, and yet also unexpected. She liked it. She looped an arm around his neck, pulling him in for another deep kiss, deciding kissing was among one of the best things ever invented.
He danced her over to the side of the bed, maneuvering her until the backs of her knees hit the mattress, and she fell onto it, taking him with her.
“Ah,” she exhaled, giving him a playful nip on his lower lip. “Much more comfortable than the floor.”
Chagrin flashed across his face, but before he could say anything, she pulled his mouth to hers and lost herself in the kissing, the touching, the exquisite feel of his full weight on her. It was almost better this second time, knowing what was coming, what could come.
She wriggled against him. “I think we’re wearing too many clothes.”
He propped himself up on his elbows. “I agree. A smart observation.” With a grin, he rolled off her and sat up, pulling his shirt over his head.
God, he was delicious, that leanly muscled chest with its smattering of hair making her heart thump. She reached out a hand to touch him, but he swished a finger at her, grinning. “Oh, no, no, no. If I have to be topless, so do you.”
She laughed. “It’s different for a man.”
“Not at all. I am for complete equality in toplessness.”
The man was hilarious, his icy blue eyes twinkling with humor as he looked at her expectantly.
“Fine.” She sat up, pulling the sweater off.
He fell to a knee in front of her. “Fair maiden, I offer myself as your champion, here to protect your breasts from harm.” He took one in each hand. “I must guard them closely.”
She pushed at him. “First you say we’re equals, now you’re trying to make me a damsel in distress? I think not.”
He bowed his head but did not release her breasts. “I defer to you, oh, my queen.”
Queen. As if. Though she did like this playful Matthew; he was far more relaxed and less serious than he’d been upon their first acquaintance.
“And now for those.” He motioned to her leggings with his chin. “I’ve envied them all night, how intimately they’ve sat on your thighs, your ... ” He cocked up a brow, neglecting to finish the sentence.
“You shall have to release me, first.”
With a heavy sigh, he let go, sitting back on his heels.
She pulled the leggings off slowly, inch by inch, watching his eyes fire. “And I’ve wished to be those blue jeans, wrapped around your legs, your ... derriere.” She flushed as she said the word, her modest upbringing at war with the brazenness flooding through her, a brazenness she fully embraced. It was so much more fun than being virtuous.
“Derriere?” He snorted. “What are we, French?” He unzipped his jeans, pulling them and his smalls off much more quickly than she’d done her own a
pparel, kicking them to the floor before crawling to her and burying his head into her stomach, his hands reaching around to clasp her backside again. “Call it what it is. Ass. And my God, Amara, do you have a fine ass.”
Silence fell after that, broken only by sweet murmuring and sounds of pleasure. After some time exploring every inch of each other’s bodies, Matthew groaned. “I think I’d better get that condom now.”
Amara bit her lip, suddenly shy. She watched with interest as he grabbed a small square package out of the drawer to the side of his bed and ripped it open. He pulled out a thin-looking membrane. Lying back on the bed, he said, “I’ll do it since you’re unfamiliar.”
She managed the briefest of nods, her eyes wide as he unfurled the condom down over his length. It was incredibly erotic, watching him touch himself. “And that protects from pregnancy? Something that thin?”
“Yes,” he said, his breath ragged. “Now, come here.”
She rolled to his side, stroking his belly, her eyes on his manhood.
“I was hoping you’d sit on top.”
“Oh!” Women did that? Fire burned through her veins as she moved over him. How intoxicating, to have him beneath her and her in complete control. She sank down on him, marveling for a second at how she didn’t notice the condom. Then she was lost in sensation, the fullness of him filling her, stretching her, the only thing on which she could focus. Soft sounds escaped her as he took her to the hilt, every inch of him deep inside her.
“Oh, yes. I do say this is a most delightful position,” she murmured when she’d caught her breath. He bucked beneath her, and she spasmed around him. “Do that again!”
He complied, thrusting his hips up to bury himself even deeper. She moved her hips in return, reveling in the power it gave her, watching his face contort with pleasure as she ground against him. She braced her arms on either side of his shoulders and moved, up and down, faster and faster, until her breath was nearly forgotten, and sweat pearled between her breasts.
He grabbed her hips, his hands clasping the flesh firmly as he moved up against her, deepening the connection, the rhythm. “Touch yourself,” he ground out.
Touch herself? Part of her hesitated. It wasn’t that she never had. It’s that it seemed so ... intimate, not something to be done in front of another. On the other hand, when he’d donned the condom, she’d had to suck in a breath at how it excited her, seeing his hands on himself. Her fingers reached down, finding her own center, and she pressed against it, moving in rhythmic circles, rivers of sensation flooding between her fingers and the feeling of him inside her.
“Oh, God, yes,” she cried out as ecstasy overtook her, her body convulsing around him, stars every color of the rainbow bursting behind her eyelids. His own groans greeted hers as he thrust a final time, his hands kneading her skin.
Their harsh breathing echoed in the room, the only sound as she draped herself on top of him, languor filling her every limb.
Chapter 22
“Everything okay?” Cat hurried across the room. “I was getting wor—” She stopped, her mouth popping into an O. “Oh. No groceries?”
Amara ducked her head, avoiding Cat’s knowing gaze. Was it so obvious what she and Matthew had been doing? Matthew cleared his throat behind her, his hand straying to the small of her back, touching her as if to reassure her.
“Nope,” he said, his voice too bright. “Store was too crowded, so we decided to try later. Sundays aren’t the best days to shop, you know.”
Something suspiciously close to a snort came from Cat. “Yes, I know exactly what you mean. Well, glad you’re here now. Matt, can you stay a minute? Ben had something he needed to talk over with you. And Amara, maybe you want to come up and, uh, help me load the dishwasher?” She walked toward the stairs.
Subterfuge was clearly not Cat’s forte if her attempt to be discreet was to invite one to do dishes. Amara, however, dutifully followed, not wanting to arouse further suspicion. As she hit the first step, she couldn’t help but glance at Matthew. His face was serious as he watched her. Until he noticed her looking at him, that is, at which point he winked and cracked a wide grin.
Oh, goodness. What have I got myself into? Memories of the last hour, the earlier part of the day, streamed through her brain, and half of her wanted nothing else but to go back down, grab him, and head to bed. The other half, the more rational half, gave her a stern talking to. Amara Mattersley, you yourself said it: There is no relationship here. He does not want one. You do not want one. It is a physical connection, nothing more.
So why did a tiny part of her heart ache?
Cat barely made it through the apartment door before she spun around, her eyes dancing. “Okay, spill. Something obviously happened between the two of you.”
Spill? What did she mean? Share intimate details? Did people do that? Even if they did, Amara didn’t wish to. Intimacies were a private affair. “I don’t know what you mean. I wasn’t feeling well after last night’s overindulgences, so Matthew kindly let me sleep in his apartment. Then we ... took care of tasks and such.”
Cat tucked a piece of hair behind her ears. “Okay, you don’t have to share. But you can’t tell me there isn’t some sort of connection. It shows all over your faces.”
“Even if there were,” Amara said, following Cat into the kitchen, “I don’t want there to be.”
“Ah, but sometimes what we want and what we need are two different things. If I’ve learned anything in this life, it’s that.”
Ben walked into the kitchen and settled Wash in a chair at the table. “Matt’s finally here, huh? I’ll be back up shortly.” He dropped a brief kiss on Cat’s lips. “I hope you had a nice time,” he said to Amara, no hint of anything other than sincerity in his tone.
Cat snorted again after he left. “You don’t really have to do dishes, of course,” she said, opening the refrigerator. “I was hoping you’d feel comfortable confiding in me. But if you don’t want to, I understand.”
She pulled out an apple and sliced it into pieces, sliding the pieces from the cutting board onto a plate that she set in front of Wash. He grinned, his chubby hands grabbing a slice.
Amara sat down in a chair near the little boy, her shoulders slumping in a way she’d never have got away with at Clarehaven. “I am unaccustomed to having friendships beyond family,” she said at length. “And in my era, one does not discuss such things.”
That wasn’t entirely true. She and her sisters had had conversations, and other young women had on occasion pestered Amara for details of the intimate act, details she’d declined to give. Plus, she hadn’t really known the truth of it, the grandeur of it, until today. With Matthew.
“Got it. I won’t say another word unless you want to talk—with the exception of the fact you’d make the cutest couple.” Cat put a bowl of something in the microwave as she spoke, pushing buttons to heat it up.
Wash held his hand out to Amara. “Wan’ apple, Cousin ‘Mara?” His cheeks crinkled with his big grin. She had to admit, he was winsome.
“No, thank you.”
His smile disappeared, though he didn’t look angry, just confused. Turning his head toward his mother, he picked up the remaining apple pieces and dropped them on the floor with a wicked giggle. “Washington Jefferson Cooper!” Cat’s voice was firm but laced with love.
Amara, on the other hand, made a face. And that’s why I don’t want a child.
“Want to watch Pride and Prejudice after I get Wash to bed?” Cat said, stooping to pick up the apples. “You can tell me everything they get wrong.”
“Pride and Prejudice? Oh, yes, Eliza’s favorite book. Miss Austen is most delightful. We called on her several times before I ... left.”
Cat clapped her hands in excitement. “I’m so thrilled she got to meet her idol. I can hardly believe it. Pretty sure Jane Austen would agree Colin Firth is eye candy in any era. So, what do you say?”
“Yes. That sounds like a pleasurable way to spend the even
ing.” Not as pleasurable as how she spent her day. She didn’t know who this Colin Firth was, but she doubted he could be anywhere as attractive as Matthew Goodson lying naked on the bed, his ice-blue eyes ablaze with desire.
“I wish to take a shower if that is agreeable,” she said, rising from her chair. A very cold one, perhaps. For her body was still on fire, burning for the man one floor beneath her.
Matt did his best to concentrate on Ben’s words, but his mind kept drifting to the woman upstairs. What was she doing? What was she thinking?
They’d made love twice in one day. Was she truly okay with that? Had he taken advantage of her? The idea didn’t sit well with him. He was all for a good time, but only if both people were on the same page. She said she was—said she wanted it as much as you.
“You seem tired.” Ben’s words interrupted Matt’s thoughts. “Should we talk about this some other time?”
“I’m sorry.”
“No big deal.” Ben stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for taking such good care of Amara.”
Matt’s eyes whipped to Ben’s. Was that a look? Did Ben suspect? The older man’s face revealed nothing, though a corner of his mouth twitched.
Matt didn’t trust himself to say anything more. Any longer here, and he might fess up to everything. He had to go. With a nod at Ben, he rose and stretched his back. While he was in good shape, there were muscles twingeing right now he hadn’t even known he had. Walking to the door, he fought the urge the entire way to look back, to look for her.
Ridiculous. It was a fling.
Nothing more.
Chapter 23
The week passed slowly. Amara spent as much time as possible reading to expand her knowledge. But she couldn’t focus, her mind often drifting to Matthew, to the night at the bar and the day afterward. Occasionally, she’d hear songs on the bookstore’s radio she’d listened to with him, and she’d be right back in his living room, leaning against his shoulder, breathing in his lovely smell.
The Magic of Love Series Page 75
