Shit, is she sexy. Her body brushes against mine as I stand and step under the water.
“Speaking of hard.” She snickers, looking down at my tented briefs. “Wow. I take back my comment. I guess there is a man inside you after all. A very big man.”
I close my eyes, willing my hard-on away. “Matilda.”
She steps close to me—too close. “Don’t,” she whispers.
I grab the back of her neck against my will. “Don’t what?”
Color flames across her cheeks. “Don’t stop looking at me the way you were.”
“And how was that? How was I looking at you?” I’m inches from her parted lips. Seconds from her tongue.
“Like you might kiss me,” she says without skipping a beat, as her gaze travels between my lips and my eye.
“Not going to kiss you, just going to wash you.” I swallow over what can only be named lust. “Turn around.” I lose all thought as I direct her into the spray to rinse her.
She places her hands on the wall, and my gaze falls down her slick back landing on her ass. Fuck, that full, beautiful bottom with wet knickers pasted between her cheeks. I cage her with my arms, my hands next to hers as I press against her and suck her nape. Our combined sounds and the way she writhes along my erection nearly kills me. I drag a hand down her spine and as I reach her kickers and finger the lacey edge about to yank them down and give us both what we seem to be craving, I stop. What the hell am I doing? I let out an abrupt breath and step out of the shower.
Get a hold of it, man. You do not need a woman, you cross the line and you’re done. Don’t turn it into something it can never be. You want to lose this farm over her? You want to lose your mind again?
“Get out of the shower,” I direct her as I turn the water off. “I can’t have you falling in there.” I take her arm and help her step out. Her wet body shivers with goose bumps. She’s impossible not to look at. Grabbing a towel, I hold it out for her as she stands dripping on the bath mat. My eye moves over her curves, then lands at her face, engaging us in a stare. Something beyond words passes between us, until she casts her eyes down.
She reaches out for the towel and then I wrap one around my waist. “It’s been a while for you, huh?” she says in a shaky voice as her eyes mist with tears. “Or maybe just me,” she whispers as she wanders past me with her shoulders slumped.
“I suppose,” I answer, turning around to get another look at her.
She climbs into her bed and twists an arm behind her back to unfasten her bra. My eye is glued to her full breasts as she grunts and tries to wiggle out of the bra. Unable to remove it, she flops onto her side, facing me.
“Do you want me to unfasten it?”
“Please, I’ll cover up so you don’t have to look at me,” she softly says, her voice emptied of emotion.
I take two steps toward the bed. “Are you okay?” I ask, ignoring my racing heart and niggling hunger. What if I did climb under the covers with her? What if we fell asleep skin on skin, the two of us breathing in unison, with our arms wrapped around one other? I could explore everything about her mind and body. She doesn’t even know me, but does she want to?
Reaching around her body, I unclasp her bra, then slide the straps down her shoulders. I linger where the straps meet the sheet she’s holding over her breasts, every fiber of my body taut.
“Thanks for taking care of me tonight. I know you don’t want me here, but that was nice of you to help me.”
I pull away and stand. Almost, Jesus, I almost went there. “You’re welcome. And Matilda, it’s okay that you’re here.” My heart skitters at my admission. “I’m okay that you’re here.”
Instead of sliding under the covers next to her, I traipse to the door. Before I close it, she asks, “Think you can guess my middle name?”
I’m too tired for riddles, exhausted by the possibilities of how I might have taken her body tonight. “What’s your middle name, pretty eyes?”
She hiccups. “Never mind, doesn’t matter anyway.”
Alfie sends me a text in the morning asking me if I need his help for the day. I text him back, no. Then he texts me again, asking how Matilda was feeling post birthday celebration.
Birthday? Crap! No wonder. Of course…it was a riddle. Her middle name, I should’ve known she was testing me. A Fourth of July birthday.
I settle the boys into their car seats in my truck and head into town. “A donut birthday cake?” I ask the boys. We all agree princesses like donuts.
As I sip my second cup of coffee, I hear the uneven gait of Matilda mosey down the stairs. When her footsteps near, I glance over the edge of my newspaper. She waltzes past me in a long—but not long enough to cover her knickers—T-shirt.
Then I answer last night’s riddle. “Independence.”
“Very good.” She smiles, peeking at me over her shoulder.
I stare at her backside as she fills the teakettle then lights the gas on the stove. “Hey, Boner,” she says, reaching down to scrub the dog’s belly. He groans. I do too when I peer around the paper and one inch of her butt crack greets me. Fuck! How. Am. I. Going. To. Resist. Her?
“Boys! Kitchen! Now!” I yell after I slam the newspaper down on the table.
Matilda jumps and turns her wide eyes to me. “Did I do something? I mean…”
“Yes, you did. Sit down.” I pull a chair out and direct her to it. “Don’t move.”
I take the boys into the pantry to light the candles on the sloppy donut cake we created. When we toddle out of the pantry, tears are streaming down her face, her lips quivering. Her eyes soften and fill with wonder as we approach her. My gut is electrified when her trembling lips form a smile as we sing “Happy Birthday” to Matilda Independence Pearl.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Freshly blown candle smoke swirls between us. She crosses her legs Indian-style, and my eyes shoot to the now in-plain-sight lace panel covering her crotch. Is she feeling what I am? What the hell is happening to me?
With her eyes firmly planted on the donut in her hand she says, “I didn’t want to bother you with it. I know you’re busy.”
Jax jumps into my lap, his face already covered in frosting. I kiss-lick a glob from his cheek while he squirms, reaching for another donut.
Her tongue performs an erotic dance across the chocolate-covered donut she’s holding to her lips. “Did you just lick his face?” A glimmer of laughter shines in her eyes.
I chuckle at the hilarity on her brow. “Yeah. Five-second rule. Works for the floor…works for the body too. Counts, right?”
She nods as her gaze drops. Then she casually drapes her hand over her lap, effectively covering that scrap of lace that was making me want to drop to my knees and move it aside for a better view. “I suppose it does.”
“What? You look surprised.” I wink at her as she peeks up through her fringe of lashes. “No one’s ever licked chocolate off your body? Now that’s a damn shame.”
She shrugs. “Pretty sure I’ve never had anything licked off my body.”
Anything? As she bites into her donut, I force myself to look away. Since when has eating a frosted donut become foreplay? Apparently since she and my libido turned it into that just now. I clutch my coffee for a sip, trusting I can quell my curiosity. Nope. “Right, then. This is a family show, but in code… When you say anything… I’m fascinated. Do you mean anything?” I imagine my face between her legs and the moan coming from her throat.
She can’t even look at me. Her shyness is adorable. Why am I doing this? Is it as torturous for her?
When her head flinches back and her eyebrows squish together, it makes me think we’re talking about different things. Seemed obvious enough to me, but then, I’m a guy. Guy equals dog. Dogs like to lick everywhere.
She licks her lips, then asks with a quirked eyebrow, “Anything? That’s everything, right?” She takes a bite of her donut and a small glob of frosting sits perched on her nose.
Jinx yells, “Wudof wed n
ose weindeew!”
I wipe the chocolate with my thumb and lick it. Should’ve used my mouth on her, since…well.
She giggles, prompting me to continue our banter. “If anything is everything, something is missing.”
“Tongue twister?” she mutters, turning beet red as her hands fly to her face. “Oh...you meant…” She peeks through her fingers. She is fucking cute. “Oh gosh… Are we talking about…going…you know?” Her eyes fall to her lap, and she must realize the awesome view I’m getting of her crotch as she squirms to a crossed-legged position.
I grin as I nod. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
Her eyes twinkle. “That’s, um…kind of personal.”
“And kind of obvious it’s never happened based on how red your face is...Rudolf.”
6
Balthazar
When you went into the woods, you got me.
You hated me, yet you wanted to find me.
You went home with me ’cause you couldn’t find me
A splinter
“Oh, right. Thanks for pointing out the obvious so obscurely,” she says, nibbling her fingertips.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” I tap her knee and wink. “But, life is short—you’d hate to miss the good parts.”
Matilda clears her throat as she straightens in her chair. “Well, I’m no prude, it’s not that. So, you like um…doing that?” She twists her lips as her eyes sparkle with interest. “Since we’re speaking in code or sort of.”
I smirk. “Like? Fuck yeah. Any man that doesn’t is clueless.”
After sliding the breakfast plates into a stack, Matilda yanks her T-shirt down then pushes her chair out and stands. “Guess I’ve dated plenty of clueless guys.”
Not that there’s anything going on besides flirting, but still, what would her dick of father say about this? And what is he holding over her head? She not only intrigues me with her shy one second, confident the next vibe. She’s got me questioning my need-no-one stance for the first time in years. I have had plenty of offers since I’ve lived here, locals trying to fix me up with their sisters and the like. No one though has sparked my interest. Funny how a few days with Matilda has me scratching my head and grabbing my groin.
The scent of rosemary dish soap perfumes the air as Matilda fills the sink and I clear the table.
As I slide the remaining mugs and plates into the scorching bubble-covered water, she elbows me in the side. “I’ve got this if you need to get out to the fields.”
“I’m happy to help, you’re not our maid. You wash, I’ll dry and put away. Deal?”
“Deal.” She nods. “Thanks. And uh, the donut cake was sweet. I wasn’t expecting that from you.” Her face reddens as she meets my eye.
“Understandably. I’ve been hard on you, and you’re welcome.”
“Wait, what? Did you just say you’re welcome for the hard-on?”
“Funny girl with a dirty mind. Nice.”
“I’m sure my being here must feel like an attack on your family, I’m trying to be respectful. I realize this was forced on you by my asshole dad.”
“But not you?”
She turns to face me, and toys with the tips of the soapy gloves on her hands. “Well, yeah. Me too.” I move a curl out of her eye, tucking it in her loose ponytail. “You like it here, don’t you?” she asks.
“What’s not to like? I have everything I need.”
She moves her eyes from the plate in her hands to my eye. “Everything?”
“Mostly.” I shrug as I saunter over to the record player realizing what a lie I’ve been living. It’s even more apparent now, with Matilda here. Hell yes, it would be nice to have female company. That would make living here even better. It’s not that I’m alone, I’m hardly ever alone. But sure, I get lonely for the kind of conversation we’re having. I shuffle through a stack of records looking for Patty Griffin’s Children Running Through album. I come across it, then place the vinyl on the turntable platter and drop the needle on “Heavenly Day.”
Matilda gasps as the song begins, and I turn at the sound. I’ve never seen anyone that wears their emotions so authentically. I swallow past a knot of confusion.
“Oh, I love this song. It always gives me shivers.” She touches a hand to her heart, drawing my eye to her chest as her breathing quickens noticeably.
“Me too.” I brew another pot of coffee, not ready to leave our conversation to attend to my fieldwork. We finish the remaining dishes, then Matilda takes a seat at the table and begins writing on a pad of paper. After pouring a fresh cup of coffee, I join her.
“Do you ever date?” she questions, then nibbles the cap of her pen.
What I want to tell her is I might be open to it. Well, to her particularly. But maybe that would be odd for both of us if it went to hell and we were stuck on this farm hating one another. “Nah, it’s not for me,” I say, then regret it.
Her eyebrows float up, and as she catches my gaze a buzz whirls in my gut. Is it the caffeine or is it her?
“Not into relationships or sex or what? You must have needs. Anyway, from what I saw last night you seem to.”
I rub my forehead to buy a few seconds of thought. What do I say about last night? I’m so conflicted. “About that. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”
“Why shouldn’t you have?” She inspects her fingernails, then me. “I mean, I get that it’s complicated in regards to our situation and my father. But is that it? You began to touch me and then—”
“Matilda,” I interrupt. “You’re, well. You’re lovely.” She presses her hands to her cheeks and plants her elbows on the table. I could lean in a smidgen and our lips would touch. And I’d like that. Maybe that’s the path of least resistance. To give in. But I don’t, I have too many realities to indulge in frivolous ideas. “Your dad, he could ruin my life. Laviniaalready did—with exception of giving me the boys.” Lavinia and Everit ruling my world. Still.
“I see.” We linger in a decadent stare. Everything in it is beautiful, if not slightly confusing. From the way my heart is reacting to her barely there smile, to the way her toe taps the ground like Morse code saying choose me, consider me. Why not me?
“Did you like being near me? Or was that not for you?” She smiles with a touch of mockery. Not one to beat around the bush.
“Matilda.” How do I answer her? I’m not ready to address how it felt to be near her. How on the verge I was. Who am I kidding? She knows. Some vibes don’t need words. Wet and nearly naked with her is one of them.
“I’m going to be living here for a year,” she says in a tiny voice. “It’ll be interesting.”
“No shit.” I grab the back of my neck with both hands, though I want to grab her neck, and drag her against me. “Interesting and then some.”
Between chores in the fields and some repair work in the barn, my day zips by. My mind is restless thinking about Matilda. I might have accused her of being like her sister but she could not be more different. She’s content where Lavinia was exasperated. She’s down to earth where Lavinia was imposing. And she’s opening my mind. Not since Lavinia managed to get herself killed in a car accident with that Hamptons-born-and-bred sonofabitch she was fucking, has this happened.
Around four, I discover Matilda and the boys making chalk drawings on the fieldstone path in front of the house. The boys jump from stone to stone, their bare feet picking up colorful chalk dust as they leap around.
“These are cool drawings, thanks for introducing them to new things.” I kneel and choose a fat blue chunk of chalk from a pile of pieces.
Matilda focuses her attention on the stone she’s sitting on, and continues drawing. “Oh, yeah. It’s fun for me. I’ve never spent much time with little kids, it’s nice. I love how free they are about everything.”
“Looks like you’re a natural. A kid magnet.”
“I’ve got a lot of kid in me so it’s easy. Plus making things is kind of what I do, clothing
and other things,” she says, lifting the edge of her skirt to make her point.
I doodle trees that resemble mangled broccoli. “You’re an artist, then? Lavinia had said that about you.” Jax squats at her feet and tries to color her toes. Her shoulders shake as she laughs while handing Jax a new color for each toe.
“She talked about me?” Her face lights up as her mouth drops open then spreads into a grin. “She said that? Oh, wow!”
“She uh…” I cringe, trying to find the right words for what Lavinia had said about Matilda and her creativity. It was never nice. She was never nice about Matilda.
She waves her hand around as her face reddens. “Oh, got it. Yeah. She talked about me. As in I’m an artist.” She finger quotes. “Right. Of course.” Her eyes darken with pain as she looks away and drags the back of her hand under her nose.
“Hey, you don’t need to do that.” I take her chin in my fingers and guide her back to our conversation.
Her hands fist the fabric of her skirt. “It’s no biggie. I grew up knowing my place in my family.”
“Which was what?” Lavinia made her out to be an introverted flake. A colorless child that shied away from the Pearl family’s highfalutin circus lifestyle. She may have no idea how uniquely beautiful she is. At some point, I’ll tell her how her pouty red lips shout kiss me. And the way her full of emotion eyes amuse my sensibilities in a secret language, that I’ll figure out if it kills me. And the way her melodic voice lures me closer when it shrinks, and then makes me laugh when it comes out pouncing with honest declarations. She needs to know, these little things are affecting me in ways I want to act on. But will I? Can I?
“Invisible. I still am.” She huffs. “Let’s face it, the only reason I’m here is that Dad wants Lavinia’s children to be brought up properly. You know, a perfect little nuclear family. You get that he thought she was faultless, right?” She scrawls jagged lines across her drawing, which I’m just realizing is of a family. “Does he even know she fucked around on you with that producer or whatever? Does he know she abandoned you? Anyway, that’s what Aunt Molly told me, maybe I’m just talking out of my ass. Sorry, that wasn’t very nice.” She whips the chalk in her hand as if it’s a knife. I imagine it’s her father she’s hoping it stabs into as it cuts through the air.
How To Tame Beasts And Other Wild Things Page 4
