Reluctantly In Love (Emerald Cove Romance Book 1)

by Siân James

I made it to the exit and scanned the parking lot, lit by streetlights but he was nowhere to be found. The lot was still more full than empty, but the few people hanging around were having loud conversations or climbing into their cars to head home.

  He was gone.

  Damn.

  Feeling dejected I decided to call it a night anyway and headed to my car. He could have gone back to his apartment, though I knew from Andy that Matt had spent a few nights recently at his parents’ place while the plumbing was being replaced. If his car was in the parking lot outside our apartments, I’d check to see if his light was on under the door.

  I made the short drive home in silence, opting out of the distraction of the radio. I needed all my brain power to keep focused on my goal.

  I’d spent the last hour talking myself into approaching Matt about the other day and telling him I was ready to be kissed, but I was expecting to be kissed already. Not having to chase him down. As the seconds and minutes ticked by, I felt myself losing my nerve. So when I pulled into my parking space outside and saw his space was empty, I simultaneously felt a pang of disappointment as well as my body sagging in relief.

  “Not meant to be.” I sighed and extricated myself from my car, beeped the locks and headed upstairs to my apartment.

  Did I feel like crying?

  Yes.

  Did I feel like something special had potentially slipped through my fingers?

  Yes.

  Was I more relieved or disappointed to have avoided the confrontation?

  Rubbing at my chest, which felt hollow, I decided it was something I’d think about in the morning.

  Right now, I needed a hot cup of tea and my favourite PJs—

  “Izzie.”

  I gasped, clutching my chest, and spun away from my door to face Matt, who was half way up the stairs behind me.

  “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” I placed my hands on my hips and bent almost double at the waist, trying to calm my racing heart.

  He took the last few stairs slowly. “Sorry about that.”

  The smile I heard in his voice combined with the adrenaline racing through my body made me laugh.

  “You didn’t hear me?”

  Straightening, I cleared my throat. He was wearing his wary expression, and it made me sigh. I was sick of seeing that look on his face. “No, I didn’t hear you. I was lost in my thoughts.” I sorted through my keys to find the one for my front door.

  “Must have been good thoughts, then.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say so.”

  “No?” He stopped on the landing. “Need a friendly ear?”

  I studied him. His hands were in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cool of the evening. Was this my chance? His posture was uncertain, but his expression was open.

  I tried to swallow but it didn’t work. “Actually, I—” Deep breath. “I just wanted to have a quick chat with you.”

  His eyes dropped to the floor between us before moving to the stairs to his apartment, then centred back to me. His expression had darkened, wariness and self-reproach colouring his features.

  “You know you don’t owe me anything, for the other day, I mean. It was an arsehole move what I said, and I’m sorrier for it than you can imagine.” His voice was low with meaning, and I felt his apology keenly.

  “Oh, no—what? Not at all, I know you didn’t mean anything … calculating by it.” Had he assumed I thought he was serious? That he expected what amounted to a sexual favour (if a very chaste one—though we hadn’t kissed yet, so who knew how chaste a kiss from him would be) for helping me with my business?

  Had I spent three days stewing over whether I should have kissed him or not while he’d spent three days stewing over whether I was going to launch a sexual harassment complaint? Did he think he’d read me that wrong? I mean, his timing wasn’t excellent, and he definitely could have approached it differently without the risk of any impropriety through our business connection, but he hadn’t read me wrong. He had the courage to make a move before I’d fully acknowledged my intense attraction to him myself.

  I studied his clenched jaw. “Matt, no. I didn’t for once think you were serious. Please tell me you haven’t been worrying over this.”

  His mouth twisted with contempt. “Serves me right, really, doesn’t it?”

  The words felt like a slap—a door slamming shut to the possibilities running through my mind.

  My jaw dropped. When the right words wouldn’t come, I scrunched my eyes tightly against the confusion. “This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.”

  “No? What did you envision?”

  My eyes sprung open.

  “A polite request that all future communication between us be passed through the real estate?” he continued, rubbing his eyes wearily. “Of course, whatever you want to feel safe at work. I—” He dropped his hand. “I’m really sorry.”

  “No!” I cringed and glanced around the empty stair well, conscious of our voices echoing through the cavernous space. Lowering my voice, I said, “No, that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.”

  He gestured to me before leaning back against the railing, both arms holding the metal bar either side of him, his feet crossed in front. “Okay, shoot. What’s on your mind?” His eyes strayed to my legs before they slid to the side, and he swallowed hard.

  I gotta admit, I’d never been more grateful for denim cutoffs than I was in this moment. If I needed any indication that I wasn’t about to make a massive fool of myself right now, then he’d just given it to me.

  Shifting my handbag to hang behind me, I took a step forward so our toes were about a hand span apart. This still put our bodies at quite a distance because his legs were stretched out in front of him as he perched on the edge of the banister.

  I clasped my hands together behind me and focussed on a spot over his shoulder. “Yes.”

  A heavy silence followed while I tried to untangle my tongue to elaborate but he got there first. “Yes?”

  I took another breath. “Yes, you can kiss me.” My words ran together in a whisper, and I cringed after I said it, my cheeks heating with embarrassment.

  “Jesus, Izzie. Didn’t you hear me? I’m not some kind of sexual predator—” Matt began.

  “I know! I mean, I want you to kiss me. If you still want to, I want you to.” Letting it all go, I said what I really felt. “I want to kiss you.” My eyes flew to his, and I watched as comprehension dawned. His features moved from ashamed, to confused, then as the light in his eyes flared, I felt the full force of his smoldering gaze.

  “You want to kiss me?” His words were slow and deliberate, demanding in their need for honesty.

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “And this has nothing to do with me helping you out with the generator a few days ago?”

  I shook my head, not trusting my voice any longer.

  He studied me, and the seconds tick by like days, each one increasing the weight of my humiliation. I’d done as much as I was willing to do. If he wasn’t going to do the gentlemanly thing and take over, then I was out of here.

  “Why do you want to kiss me?”

  And there it was, my limit. A ticking sound escaped me before I could muffle the noise, and I spun, grabbed my purse and made for my front door. But Matt’s strong hand grabbed mine, stopping me in my tracks.

  “Wait, wait, hang on a minute.” He let go of my hand and moved so he was standing next to me, his fingers trailing lightly up the back of my arm until he reached my shoulder, where he swept my hair away to expose my neck. “It would be a disservice to your courage if you abandoned your goal now. Plus,” he added and a glimpse at his face from under my eyelashes meant I saw the accompanying cheeky grin, “I really, really want you to kiss me.”

  I laughed. He was standing close but not so close that it felt threatening. The heat from his body radiated outwards, and the spicy scent of man enveloped me, drawing me in.

  “But,” he added, and I felt myself p
ulled forwards as he took a step back, “considering how this has all come about, I’m really going to need you to kiss me. Otherwise I’m always going to be wondering if I—” He swallowed hard, and for a moment the starkness of his emotions shone through his swagger. “If I imposed myself on you somehow.”

  I could only imagine how much he’d beaten himself up the last three days if he truly believed his advance was unwelcome.

  His fingers found mine, tangling them together in a move that sent the now-familiar fizzle of energy along my skin.

  I glanced at our entwined hands, wondering whether I’d be able to glimpse some of the magic that seemed to sizzle and snap between us. “You feel it to?” His voice was rough, vulnerable, and at the sound of it I felt an answering tug deep in my chest.

  I met his gaze and something in my expression must have given him his answer because he nodded in agreement.

  He gave me a gentle pull as he stepped back until he reached the railing, settling himself on the edge like he was before, but this time he left his feet apart and gently pulled me in so I stood between them. Our bodies weren’t yet touching, though his face was now even with mine. Considering our already impressive height difference, it was a miracle I wasn’t still staring up to him, and it gave me a little more confidence.

  His hand holding mine lifted and flattened my palm over his heart. I placed my other hand against his chest matching the one he still held in place. The solid heat of him soaked into my palms and steadied my trembling fingers.

  I licked my lips, the thought of finally tasting him leaving me heady with desire as heat pooled low in my belly, sending tingles of awareness skittering over my skin. His eyes dropped to my mouth as I moved in, his breath fanning my lips. Through my palms I could feel the tightly coiled tension in his body, the strength he was employing not to reach out and touch me, letting me guide the moment.

  I let my free hand slide up across his pec—which I noticed even in my lust-crazed brain was very nicely formed—and slid my fingers into the hair at the back of his head.

  I used my hand in his hair to pull him a little closer as I leaned in, my eyes closing at the last second before our lips touched.

  Gently at first, he let me explore as we moved our mouths together. I took his bottom lip tenderly between my teeth, then swiped my tongue across it for a taste. Delicious.

  I did it again, and this time felt the tension jump in his body as he let out an involuntary groan. Smiling at the sound, I released his bottom lip and moved, tilting my head slightly so I could sweep my tongue inside. His beard tickled at my mouth, the coarse hairs creating an erotic dichotomy between them and his soft lips.

  My hand on his chest snaked up to wrap around his neck so now I was pulling him into my kiss, devouring. He wasn’t touching me anywhere except where our mouths were fused together, dancing and exploring, though I felt like I was rapidly losing control of the kiss. Which I was fine with because it was very clear that Matt Carter was an excellent kisser.

  I mean, seriously.

  He really knew what he was doing.

  And yet, I felt like I wasn’t getting everything he could give. I wanted more, so with one hand in his hair and one on his neck I pulled him into me further, plastering my body against his and deepening the kiss the best I could. He groaned into my mouth again, his body tight, shaking with tension and suddenly I knew what he needed. I pulled back slightly, gasping a for breath and sweeping the hand that was at his neck down to grip his straining biceps.

  “Touch me,” I commanded, nearly crying with relief as his arms wrapped around me, one hand diving into the hair at the back of my head he tilted me so my mouth opened to him further. His other hand wrapped around my waist and pulled me so I was flush along his body. My softness moulding against his hard lines.

  The kiss went wild.

  Teeth clashed, tongues duelled and lips slid against each other in a dance so erotic and skilled, I was barely conscious of where we were.

  Then his hands moved. One skimmed my exposed shoulder blades before wrapping across my body and pulling me closer, while the other drifted down over my denim cut-offs, his hand finding the back pocket and diving in, grabbing a handful of my bottom in the process.

  When it seemed the initial frenzy of the moment had subsided somewhat, he pulled back—but only a breath, changing the angle and diving in again to nip at the corner of my mouth. He tasted me, leisurely, languidly, drawing me out. He kissed me deeper again, consuming. And, oh my goodness, consuming was exactly the right word.

  And then quite suddenly, he was not.

  I was set firmly away as he stood and strode to the other side of the small landing. One hand on his hip and one raking through his hair in a pose of masculine reflection.

  My breathing was unsteady, my fingers lifting to touch my lips which were swollen and sensitive in the best way. But I felt cold and uncertain at his behaviour.

  Had he not liked the kiss?

  Maybe I had bad breath?

  Maybe he hadn’t wanted to kiss me in the first place?

  A disquieting sense of unease snaked its way through my lungs, settling low in my belly.

  Just when I’d decided to open my door and escape, he turned on me. “What are you doing?”

  I pushed the key into the lock. “Leaving.”

  He took a step towards me, looking pained. “Izzie—” he began, running his hands through his hair again and making a frustrated sound. “No, wait. I'm sorry.”

  “For what?” I was impatient to escape, but more than that I wanted answers.

  He huffed a disbelieving laugh, his eyes wide with incredulity, “I—” He searched my face. “I don’t know. I needed a minute.” He swallowed hard. “I wasn’t expecting—”

  “What?”

  His hands fell to his sides and a bemused expression crossed his face. “You.”

  Me? What did he mean by that? Was I a good thing? Or a bad thing?

  “Oh,” I said for want of a better answer. “Okay.”

  We stared at each other for a few moments. For my part, I was wondering how I could get a repeat of that kiss because holy hell. My knees were still jelly. But his words now made me question if he’d enjoyed it as much as I had. I didn’t think I’d been a passive participant, in fact, as I ran my memory over the last few minutes, I could distinctly remember growling into his mouth and rubbing myself against his body like a dog in heat. The thought made me hot all over as an embarrassed flush crept into my cheeks.

  I fought the urge to turn away and whispered, “Well, goodnight, then.” Lingering a moment more, hoping he’d say something, anything to make me understand whether I’d just made a monumental mistake or not.

  He nodded, seemingly lost for words.

  We peered at each other in the dull lighting, but after a protracted moment I realised he was waiting for my move.

  Going with my gut rather than my head, I placed my hand on his shoulder, stood on my tip toes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

  His arms wrapped around me as I did so, and he held me where I was, his face turned to study mine in the moonlight and then, thank you, God, he kissed me again.

  This time it was a tentative, slow caress, like it was a first kiss.

  It only lasted a moment but it was effective. He wrapped his arms around me, his face in my neck as he breathed me in. “Good night, Izzie,” he whispered before letting me go. I gave him a genuine smile before entering my apartment and softly closing the door.

  Chapter 14

  My phone chimed with the arrival of a text. I checked the screen. Matt.

  Matt: Hey, how was your day?

  Me: Great. We got a lot done on site.

  Matt: That’s good, I look forward to seeing it when I get back.

  I grinned down at my phone and bit my thumb as I re-read the last forty-eight hours of messages.

  On Sunday morning, I’d woken up with two texts from Matt telling me how much he’d thought about me through the night
and asking if I was awake and wanted to go for a coffee.

  He’d texted at six am, and I’d woken at nine.

  First let me say—holy cow, I never sleep that late.

  And second—boo!

  After a flurry of texts, I discovered he’d already had coffee and was on his way to Sydney. He had some commitments he’d agreed to uphold despite being on leave. Something about an opening event for a new swanky apartment complex and a meeting with a new client he was due to work with on return from leave, and he wouldn’t be back until Friday night.

  I was disappointed.

  Not at the reminder that his time in Emerald Cove was capped, though that did give me a sense of urgency about making the most of his time here if I wanted to get more kissing and other things in.

  No, I was mostly disappointed because I was hoping for a repeat of last night’s kiss.

  I’d slept late this morning because I’d had trouble falling asleep last night thinking about how his lips had moved on mine, the way his hands had explored and gripped at my body. The feel of warm skin through the cotton of his shirt, his silky hair through my fingers.

  It was the hottest kiss of my life, and I was having trouble coming down off the high it had elicited.

  Then the second guessing had started.

  Yeah, sure he’d kissed me a second time. And it was so sweet and weighted with meaning it had reassured me in the moment. But in the deep dark of the night, it was hard to pull those feelings of reassurance to mind as my subconscious twisted and turned, assessing every little interaction.

  For example, was the last kiss just a kiss goodnight? Did he mean it to be reassuring, or had I read something in it that wasn’t there? He’d held me too, breathing me in, though was he really breathing me in? Or just taking a deep breath after we’d been kissing?

  He’d told me he needed me to kiss him first, needed to know it was really me choosing to kiss him and not feeling obligated. But was that just so he got a snog and didn’t have to worry about sexual harassment claims?

  I cringed into the dark. That thought was unfair and I shelved it immediately.