He’d texted once to Eliza’s phone, the number of which she’d given him.
Driving lessons Saturday?
It’d taken her several minutes to reply.
Yes, pleaase. I thankk you foir yur time. Amara.
Nothing personal. A message more business-like than friendly on both their parts. But that’s how they’d said they wanted it.
So why did she lie awake at night, thinking of him, wondering what he was doing?
Likely working. The man reminded her of Deveric in his single-minded dedication to his goal, his total commitment to achieving this tenure. His need for security made sense, given what he’d shared about his father.
What was her greatest need? She didn’t know. She’d come here because she longed to break out, to rebel, to defy expectations and conventions and forge her own path on her own terms. On the other hand, she wanted a place she belonged, a place she could be accepted for exactly who she was.
The struggle between the two opposing desires had dogged her days at Clarehaven, and sadly, she hadn’t escaped it here, as she’d hoped. Her dream of being an independent woman, of achieving whatever level of education she wished, of pursuing whatever she chose, was within her grasp. She never had to be beholden to anyone again, much less a man. So why didn’t it feel enough?
Because I’m lonely.
Loneliness was an emotion to which she was long accustomed, her constant shadow even before the scandal. She’d never completely fitted in with her family, with her society.
She’d hoped to eradicate that loneliness here.
These things take time, Amara. Her friendship with Cat was deepening, though she’d yet to confide about her day with Matthew. She’d spent another evening in company with Cat’s friends, Jill and Shannon, who were entertaining companions. But all were a good ten years older than she. Not that their difference in age precluded friendship, but all three were also married, and Cat and Shannon spent much time discussing their children.
Amara needed friends of her own, friends to replace her sisters, whom she missed dearly. Her thoughts flitted to Taylor, Matthew’s sister. They’d only met that one evening, but she’d liked the woman, had enjoyed her easy-going nature. Too bad Taylor did not live in town.
Saturday. She’d ask Matthew about Taylor on Saturday.
She glanced at the phone at her side. No messages. She could text him, of course. But what could she say that wouldn’t be misconstrued as meaning more than it did?
Saturday. Saturday was fine.
Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.
Matt threw himself into work, attempting to drown out the constant thoughts and memories of Amara underneath him, over him, with the mound of papers, emails, and requests he had to deal with.
It was good on the one hand; he’d fallen behind on the goals he’d set earlier in the semester. And working was easy, familiar. He spent his days and evenings in front of the screen, rising only to teach, attend meetings, eat, and work out at the gym. Just like he always had. And yet, it felt emptier, hollower.
His hands itched toward his phone, wanting to text her, to say hi, to see if she’d like to come over. But he wasn’t about to sink to a booty call text. He wouldn’t disrespect her in such a way. He could call, but that felt more intrusive, more personal. It’d suggest more than he wished to. And besides, maybe their one day had been enough for her. Maybe she didn’t need or want to repeat it.
But, God, he hoped she did. He’d never found such pleasure with a woman. It’d been perfect right from the start.
Except for the lack of a condom. He cursed under his breath, angry again he’d been so negligent. He’d never forgotten before. Ever. But he’d studied biology, knew down to the percentage how unlikely it was one encounter would produce a pregnancy.
He ran his hands down his thighs, breathing out hard. No, focus on the fun parts, not the fear. Or on work. He’d see her Saturday, could gauge her level of interest at that point. Until then, he had tons to do. He needed all the time he could get.
Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter 24
“We should go somewhere you’re not likely to run into anything on your first try,” Matt said as Amara clambered into the truck Saturday afternoon. He hoped his voice reflected nonchalance, nonchalance he certainly didn’t feel. The minute he’d spied her descending the outside stairs from the Coopers’ apartment, he’d wanted to leap out of the truck, to swoop her up and plant a kiss on that scrumptious mouth.
He hadn’t, of course, just like he’d merely texted her he was here instead of going up to the door. He didn’t want her to see, didn’t want to acknowledge to himself, how nervous he felt, how much his pulse raced when she appeared.
Sex. That’s what this was about, why his heart was pounding, his groin aching. She was the best sexual partner he’d ever had, and his body was anxious to repeat the experience. That was all.
But first, he had to teach her how to drive. He sighed. What would his brothers say if they knew he was about to let a woman drive his beloved truck? He’d never hear the end of it.
“Oh, sure,” Jared would tease. “Let some chick behind the wheel but not your favorite brother.”
Well, as he’d said, they’d go somewhere open. Wide open. He glanced at her, and she nodded. He’d nearly forgotten to what she was agreeing, so lost he’d gotten in his own thoughts. His own fantasies. He started the truck, preparing to head out, but his eyes stole back to her involuntarily, and he exhaled. He couldn’t read her face, had no clue what she was thinking. She wasn’t smiling, but she didn’t look sad or angry, either. He focused on the tiny v between her brows. Nervous?
“You ready for this?”
She swallowed and nodded again, the kind of quick nod one gave when they meant exactly the opposite. He reached over and squeezed her knee. “You’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll take good care of you.”
Her forehead furrowed at his words, but she flashed him a smile, her eyes drifting down to her knee, where his fingers still rested.
“Oh. Sorry.” He yanked his hand away, shifting the car into reverse without looking at her again.
“It’s okay. I rather like it,” she said, and he hit the brakes, jolting both of them. Laughter bubbled out of her, and he couldn’t help but wing a grin in return. “I do hope I do better than that,” she said after a moment.
“You could hardly do worse.” He eased the truck out of the driveway, his thoughts on her words. She liked it. How was he to take that? Was she open to a repeat of last Sunday’s activities? Half of him thrilled to the notion. The other half worried about how much he’d enjoyed that brief touch, how much the idea of driving along with his hand resting on her thigh appealed to him. A mark of familiarity. A mark of comfort.
A mark of possession.
He kept both hands on the wheel.
A few minutes later, they pulled into an empty parking lot.
“It’s the high school. Everybody stays away on the weekends, kids and teachers alike.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Okay, before we put you behind the wheel, let me describe things. It’s not that complicated—basically, you’ve got the steering wheel and two pedals.”
She nodded but said nothing, her eyes wide and mouth flat.
She’s really nervous. It shouldn’t surprise him; he’d been petrified the first time he’d driven. He resisted the urge to squeeze her thigh again in reassurance. “Always use your right foot. That’s rule number one,” he said. “It helps you keep the brake and accelerator separate.”
Her cheeks were paler than usual, but her face was a study in concentration, her brow creasing as she watched intensely. He gave details on the pedals, the wheel, and the gearshift. Thank goodness it was sunny; windshield wipers and turn signals could wait.
At length, he stopped, running his hands along his thighs. He was really going to do this. He was going to let a woman drive Bessie, his baby. But not any woman. Amara.
He jumped down fro
m the driver’s seat as she left the other side. He wasn’t doing this because she was special to him. He was doing this because she needed help, and he liked to help, liked to teach. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have become a professor.
They met at the front of the truck, nearly walking into each other.
“Sorry,” she bit out, as she made to move around him.
He grabbed at her arm, not sure why. “You scared?”
She nodded, her eyes meeting his before quickly sliding away. She stared off into the distance for a moment before admitting, “Yes, but not just about the driving.”
That caught him off guard.
“You. Me. We’re not—I don’t want ... And yet, I find myself very happy to see you.” Her eyes, those stunning eyes swung back around, fixing firmly on his. “And I find myself desperately wanting to kiss you.”
He moved in before she’d finished the sentence. “Thank God,” he said. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about since you walked down those damn stairs.”
His arms crushed her to him as she wove her wrists around his neck, her fingers into his hair. His mouth smashed onto hers, an impatient, aggressive meeting, but she gave as good as she got, the little noises escaping her throat driving him mad with desire. His hands roamed over her sides, her back, her ass, pulling her in tighter, seeking more of her. Hers stroked along his hair, his eyebrows, his face.
At last, they pulled apart.
“What ...?”
“I don’t know.”
They didn’t need to explain. Each somehow knew what the other was asking. What was this overpowering attraction, this underlying need whenever she was near? He’d made it through the week fine, focusing on what he needed to focus on, what he was supposed to focus on: work. But five minutes in her presence, and all he could think about, dream about, was her.
She straightened her shoulders, standing tall. Perhaps she was trying to instill confidence in herself, but the effect was to thrust her breasts out. He swallowed, hard.
“Perhaps if we agreed we would like to end today’s encounter in a more intimate way, we could focus on the task at hand?”
Wait, what? She thought telling him she wanted to have sex would make him think about it less?
“Absolutely.” He eyed the truck. There wasn’t room in the cab, but maybe if they climbed in the back? Chill, Goodson. It was broad daylight and though the parking lot was empty, that didn’t mean it’d stay that way. Plus, sex in public had never been on his bucket list. He exhaled. He could do this. He could focus on teaching, and after that—reward. For both of them.
The next hour passed more quickly than expected. Amara managed to stall the truck several times—an amazing feat, considering it was an automatic. When she did move the thing forward, she refused to go above ten miles an hour, but she did it. The excitement on her face when she successfully pulled into a parking space made him laugh. “Try doing it when there are cars on either side.”
Her hands maintained their vise-like grip on the wheel, but she’d shot him a small glare that ended in a chuckle.
“Wanna try going in reverse?”
She shook her head. “Not today. In truth, I am overwhelmed. This is much different from driving a carriage.”
“Are you sure you’re not Amish?” he quipped. Because, seriously, who else drove carriages in this day and age? He sighed. Amara Mattersley was an enigma, no doubt about it. But what he wanted most at the moment was not to figure her out, but to get his hands on her. “My place?”
“Yes, please.”
He reached over and turned the engine off before alighting from the passenger side. This time, they didn’t stop at the front but raced past each other in their desire to get back to the vehicle.
The drive home never felt so long.
Amara traced her fingers along the contours of Matthew’s back, marveling at the differences between them. Where she was soft, he was hard—all muscle underneath that skin, moving under her fingertips. He lay slumped over her, breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath after a most delightful hour, perhaps two, that had ended with ecstasy so intense, she could hardly bear it. She ran her hand down to his derriere, squeezing lightly.
“That was ... ”
“Yes.”
She didn’t finish her sentence, and he didn’t ask her to. It’d happened in the parking lot that afternoon, that sense they knew what the other was thinking, that words weren’t necessary. It unnerved her. She leaned in and bit his shoulder lightly, as much to distract herself from those uncomfortable thoughts as anything.
“Ow,” he said. “Though you did that earlier, too. Better be careful; Ada Lovelace might do you physical harm if she thinks you’re hurting my body.”
She laughed, enjoying the pressure of his ribs against hers. “Harm this body?” Her voice was a soft whisper as she stroked her hands up his sides. “Never.”
He quickened inside her.
Again? So soon? Not that she was complaining.
He moved suddenly, rolling off of her and staring at the ceiling. She frowned. Had she done something to upset him?
His head tilted toward her. “Apparently I can’t get enough,” he said with a tight chuckle, but his eyes were wary.
Neither can I.
“Do you—should I return to Cat’s?”
“Hell, no.” He looped an arm around her and pulled her into him, just as his cell phone rang. “Who?” He grabbed it off the side table. “Oh.” He slid his finger across it. “Taylor? What’s up?”
The female voice burst from the device, loud and upset.
“Slow down. It’s okay. No, I’m not doing anything.” His eyes shot to Amara’s, and he flashed her an apologetic grin.
The words stung. They’d just spent hours in bed and it was nothing? On the other hand, what did she expect him to say? “Hi, sister, I have been bedding the woman with whom you spent an evening.”
And it was nothing. A physical dalliance. A distraction. A mutual pleasure. No more.
He reached over and smoothed a piece of hair off her cheek as the female voice raged on. She closed her eyes at the delicate touch, and something in her heart hitched. That hadn’t been an act of passion; it’d been an act of tenderness. She opened her eyes again. Had he even realized he’d done that? Perhaps he did that with every woman he bedded.
“How about I bring you one? No, it’s fine. But, um, is it okay if Amara comes, too?”
There was momentary silence from the phone. Was Taylor as shocked as Amara at his suggestion? He wanted her to go with him? Why?
The voice chattered again. “Great, okay,” Matthew responded. “We’ll see you in about half an hour or so.” He slid his finger across the phone and set it back on the table. “Uh,” he said, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “I have to go to Taylor’s. Someone stole her laptop.”
“Goodness. That’s terrible!” Did theft happen often? Was this not a safe area? Then again, London had been full of pickpockets and the like.
“So, do you want to come?”
Amara hesitated. There was no true reason for her to accompany him. Except that she did not wish to leave his company. Plus, she would very much like to see Taylor again. And Charlottesville was the only place she’d seen since arriving. Perhaps it would be of use to study a new town. Yes, that made sense. She should go for her own further edification on American life in the twenty-first century.
“Yes.”
He dropped a quick kiss on her nose, then rose from the bed and disposed of the condom. As he stooped to retrieve his trousers, Amara studied the interplay of his muscles, as well as the smoothness of his sides and ... ass, as contrasted to the hair adorning his chest. So male. So very different.
So delicious.
She should have indulged in affairs earlier. It was ridiculous, the way she’d abstained. It clearly wasn’t her nature—and it hadn’t done anything to redeem her reputation. Of course, none of the men in 1813 held a candle to the one standing before her n
ow. He pulled on those funny boxer smalls, then the trou—jeans. Her mouth watered, and she longed to touch, to lick the spot where the denim met his skin.
“Do you need to put on a shirt?” she teased. “Can you not go like that? I find myself rather fond of those jeans, how they enhance what’s above ... and below.”
He arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing across his face. “Only if you go topless, as well.”
She threw the pillow at him.
Chapter 25
Amara’s eyes remained glued to the window as her fingers carved themselves into the seat and side door. “Do you have to drive so fast?”
“I’m going seventy-two. That’s only two miles over the limit.” He snickered. “Try not to dig your fingers clear through the metal, will you?”
It was all she could do not to release the contents of her stomach as the world sped by at unheard-of speeds, a blur of green, gray, and yellow. Did people drive like this every day?
“Hey, you okay? You look a little green.”
“My head is spinning.”
“Do you need me to stop?”
“No, no.” She wanted the trip over as soon as possible.
“It’d help if you’d look ahead, rather than down at the side of the road, you know. That would make me sick, too.”
Look farther? Was he mad? But she forced her face away from the blur below to the view in the distance. Her mouth dropped open. “It’s beautiful.” Everything still moved too quickly, but if she studied the farthest objects she could see, it wasn’t so bad. And what she saw was mountains, like she’d never seen in England.
They passed a large, rumbling rectangle, and she squeezed her eyes shut again. “That thing won’t hit us, will it?”
“Not if I can help it. I may love my truck, but it wouldn’t stand a chance against a semi.”
The Magic of Love Series Page 76
