Had To Be You

by Juliet Chatham

  Snuggling deeper into the pillow, her response was lost in the folds of cotton.

  “What was that?” He smiled in amusement, placing one hand down to lean closer. “What do you want?”

  She slowly rolled over with a sigh, stretching her arms above her head, the blue sheet slipping down over the swell of one of her perfect breasts to reveal the rosy bud standing out against a creamy alabaster mound. The pale triangle was a contrast to the rest of her skin, now bronzed to a smooth golden tan.

  His hungry gaze raked over her, stirring his desire, as did her response.

  “I said I want you.”

  Matt bowed his head to brush his lips over hers, traveling down to the hollow of her throat, trailing even lower to place warm, wet kisses between the sweet valley of her breasts. She murmured contentedly, lifting her hand to thread her fingers through his short hair.

  Gradually, between kisses, she moved to sit upright, the sheets falling completely away from her naked body. Reaching for the hem of his shirt, she eagerly ran the palms of her hand flat over the muscles in his abdomen and chest to push it up, only breaking away from his mouth long enough to tug it off over his head.

  Matt brought his hands up to cup her face, caressing her cheek with a tender sweep of his thumb. Then his mouth was on hers, hot tongues softly entangled, as he gathered her up in his strong embrace to lay her back down.

  Moaning softly into her mouth as her tongue ran over his, he buried his hands in her hair, reveling in the feel of her. They rolled, sinking back into the warmth and softness of his rumpled bedcovers. Her long legs wrapped around him, toned thighs pressed tight to his hips as she arched up off the bed to crush her soft, round breasts against his solid chest, and his hand glided down the smooth slope of her back to curve around her tight bottom, bodies moving, molding, melting together.

  Her fingertips edged down inside the waistband of his athletic shorts, pushing at them. Matt inwardly cursed the fact he’d ever bothered to get dressed at all, as he lost several precious seconds of heated contact in order to shove them down and off with his boxers.

  They had spent the better part of the last two days in bed, and still he couldn’t get enough.

  Coming back to her incredible body, he hooked her legs back over his hips and surged forward to enter her in a single thrust, urgent and immediate. He felt her breath catch on a muted gasp, and his eyes closed on a soft groan, nearly overwhelmed by all her heat and perfection. Lifting her off the bed slightly, slowly he eased back to slide deep again, then again, and she took all of him.

  Her fingernails sank into the muscles of his back as he lowered his mouth to her breast, and then she was clutching desperately at his arms as his tongue traced the pulse points in her neck. She rocked her hips back into his, her moans softly building with the rise and fall of their bodies.

  Heat swept through him as they climbed higher, senses lost to a dizzying rush. She felt so good, sweet and hot, tight and wet. Matt loved to be inside her, and only knew how to love her with everything inside of him. He circled his hips to stroke into her so deep, meeting need and desire with a pure rush of heat.

  He easily found that sweet spot, following the map of her body he knew by heart, and she tightened around him in spasms of rapture. Her muted cries broke the still and quiet of the summer morning as his last few thrusts sent them hurtling towards the edge of ecstasy.

  He kissed her, soft and slow, as they came together, hard and fast. Rory’s arms encircled his neck as her legs locked at his waist, holding him so close, holding him right there, as the waves of her orgasm trembled through her and he pulsed so deep.

  Matt finally collapsed into her arms before easing away, rolling to land on his back in the messy tangle of sheets, his chest rising and falling with the low rumble of a supremely satisfied groan.

  Beside him, her whispered gasp trembled past her lips. “Oh God…”

  “Again, my name is Matt,” he said between rapid breaths, touching a hand to his chest. “You kept getting confused about that last night, too.”

  Rory went still, and then grabbed the closest pillow to try to whack him with it. He laughed, ducking out of the way and trying to grasp her arms lightly to block the assault.

  Blowing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, she laughed triumphantly to finally land a direct hit.

  “Ha!”

  “Oh, you think you’re funny?”

  He leaned in to kiss her breathless again, resting his hand on her toned and taut abdomen, just below the perfect, soft swell of her breast.

  “No, you think you’re funny,” she said, placing her hand on top of his to lace her fingers through. “I know I am.”

  Smiling, he bowed his head to capture another kiss, and was glad to simply dismiss the distant ring of his cell phone. It finally stopped, only to be followed almost immediately by the ringing of his apartment phone, which he was equally as happy to ignore.

  The machine finally picked up, and then a muffled voice drifted out from the prolonged beep.

  “Matt? Hello? Anyone there? It’s Jerry. I just got here to open up for the day and seem to have run into a little problem. Hello?”

  Reluctantly breaking away from her soft lips, he eased out of bed to mutter under his breath. He roughly grabbed the phone from its base.

  “What?”

  “Oh, you’re there.” Jerry let out a low whistle on the other end of the line, a sound of relief. “Someone left two full trash bags in the kitchen last night, so I went to toss ‘em in the dumpster out back and forgot to prop the door open.”

  “And?” he replied distractedly, raking his hand through his dark hair, his mind other places—like right back in bed with an extremely hot and very naked Rory.

  “I’m locked out! I’m the only one down here.”

  Matt dropped his head with a weary groan as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

  “You’re telling me you don’t have a key on you?”

  “No, it’s back inside. I walked in and saw the trash and put my keys and wallet down on the counter and—”

  “All right, all right,” he cut him off in exasperation. “I’ll be down in ten minutes. Yep. Bye.”

  He hung up the phone with another sigh, turning to see Rory sitting up, her tousled hair spilling down her back as she pulled the covers up to her chest, cheeks still flushed pink, those beautiful aquamarine eyes shining in the morning light.

  “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I just gotta run down there.” Matt shook his head, finding his wrinkled shorts and discarded t-shirt at the foot of his bed. “Jerry, in all his brilliance, locked himself out.”

  He turned away to grab a set of keys off the top of his dresser before coming over to lean down and kiss her forehead, his lips lingering there just a moment.

  “You want me to bring back coffee?”

  The corner of her mouth tilted up as her voice softened with promise. “I already told you what I want.”

  “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” He grinned before descending the stairs from the loft.

  He would, however, die a very happy and contented man.

  Closing his apartment door behind him, he couldn’t stop smiling, bypassing the last couple of steps to jump to the landing below in a sudden burst of joyful energy. Turning the corner out onto the sidewalk, he jangled the set of keys in his hand as he walked, bowing his head to hum a soft tune under his breath.

  Glancing up, he suddenly slowed to a stop, his face falling. “Amanda.”

  She offered a tentative half smile. “Hi, Matt.”

  It took him another moment to comprehend this was actually her standing in front of him on the sidewalk, in a skirt and white sleeveless blouse, her dark hair neatly swept up off her neck.

  “I’ve been debating for the past two days whether to do this, to come by to see you,” she said. “And then I got here and I’ve been debating for the past twenty minutes or so whether to
actually go up and knock on your door.”

  Matt slowly lowered his eyes to the ground, a sickening feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach to consider if that had actually occurred.

  “I had to make up an excuse when I was leaving my house this morning,” she continued, letting a small, sad laugh as she sniffed delicately. “If anyone in my family knew I was coming to see you? Well, I think they’d disown me.”

  He had no idea what to say to that.

  “But I couldn’t help it.” Amanda met his gaze, her voice shrinking. “I missed you.”

  Matt winced inwardly. He felt so bad that he said the only thing he could, trying to make her feel better, without really considering whether he meant it or not.

  “I missed you, too.”

  “Really?” Something in her face brightened as she took a couple of steps closer, becoming somewhat more animated. “Because it all seems so strange now, you know—like that wasn’t really us, but two other people that day. There really were a lot of good things about our relationship, you know?”

  He nodded, responding only to the slightly desperate edge in her words.

  “I was thinking a lot about that, and how maybe the pressure of the wedding plans really got to us too much.” She was now gazing up into his face. “That maybe it all happened too soon. Too fast. And how we might have had a better chance if we took it more slowly, you know, without that kind of pressure.”

  “Wait.” He came out of his guilt-induced stupor for just a moment to furrow his brow in confusion. “What are you saying?”

  “That maybe…” She lightly grasped the hem of his t-shirt. “We could still have a chance.”

  He stared down at her, speechless, caught completely off guard and having no idea how he got here as she leaned up to bring her lips to his. Instinctively, he grasped onto her arms, holding her steady as he took a step back to gently pull away.

  He shook his head with a pained sigh. “Amanda…no.”

  Matt could still feel Rory on his lips, could taste her; and a trace of scent of something uniquely her still lingered all over him, so that every time he breathed in, it was just as left her, sexy and warm and sated in his bed.

  From the look on Amanda’s face right in this moment, he could tell it wasn’t just his imagination.

  “Is it her, then?” She folded her arms across her chest, and her accusing glare shifted between him and his apartment door.

  Matt couldn’t even answer, wanting to be truthful but momentarily buckling under the weight of his conscience.

  “Are you kidding me right now, Matt? Are you actually getting back together with her? Just like that?”

  “I—I don’t really have an answer to that,” he said, averting his eyes. Amanda was obviously the last person with whom he felt like discussing this, but he at least owed her a truthful response.

  And the truth was that Matt didn’t know anything right now.

  “Less than six months ago you did!” she reminded him, her sharp voice edged in bitter contempt. “You told me that it was over for good, that she didn’t want the same things you did, that you’d wasted too much time on something that was never going to happen. Those were your words, Matt! So, let me guess—as soon as she realized you might actually, finally, be moving on, she just magically changed her mind about everything, right?”

  Matt frowned uncertainly, bowing his head. He felt that all he could really do for her now was to let her to vent, and try not to place too much weight on the things she was actually saying. The things he didn’t really want to hear.

  Amanda continued on, undeterred, her accusations cracking with emotion every so often.

  “Are you really that blind where she is concerned that you can’t put two and two together, Matt?” She gasped almost as if she was appalled to think he could be that stupid. “You can’t see why she might suddenly change her mind and want you now, when she didn’t before? Did you ever consider she might just need a bit of ego boost, to know she can still have you just by saying the word? See how high you’ll still jump? See if you’ll call off a whole wedding for her? And it never occurred to you she might just be playing you for a fool?”

  “It’s not like that.” He shook his head, feeling the need to at least defend Rory even if he couldn’t defend himself. “She’s not like that.”

  “Oh, please!” Amanda scoffed. “I talked to her before the wedding, remember? Believe me, women understand each other, and she knew I was onto her game. She admitted everything and even agreed to stay away after we were married. See? It’s not about you. It was just a contest to her, and she obviously got to you behind my back and somehow won.”

  Matt stared at her blankly, trying to remember what it was that Rory said to him about that conversation, but everything that happened in conjunction with the wedding now seemed like it was something that happened in someone else’s life.

  “And what about when she goes back to New York? What is it that makes you think this is any different than the last time you told me about—than any time with her, ever? What makes you think you’re enough for her now, Matt, when you obviously never were before? You don’t honestly believe she’s going to stay here for you, and live your little townie life? You’re only going to end up feeling like a fool when she blows you off again—like you’re nothing, after you gave up everything. Trust me; it’s not a good feeling. I should know.”

  He cast his eyes to the ground.

  “Amanda, I don’t want to do this. I know I hurt you, and I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.”

  “Too late.” She turned to go, glancing back in near disgust. “Well, good luck, Matt. Can’t say as though I hope it all works out for you. Then again, if I were you? I wouldn’t get my hopes up either.”

  Matt lifted his dark, weary eyes to watch her walk away down the sidewalk, tilting his head just slightly to throw an uncertain glance back at his apartment door.

  It was true that the painful memories of laying his heart on the line, only to have Rory throw it back in his face each time, were still fresh in his mind. When it cut that deep, who knows how long it takes to completely heal—if it ever even does. Granted, things seemed different now, since she was taking the initiative to put her feelings out there first. They had just spent the past forty-eight hours sharing intimate words, feelings and emotions just as much as they had their bodies.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t do a lot to ease his concerns when—regardless of her claims—she still had an obvious and ready excuse to leave and return to her life in New York.

  Rory was back in his arms, in his life, and he wasn’t even sure how she got here. How they both got to this point, when he thought they were long past it—that this point was only a faint, melancholy, bittersweet memory.

  It all happened almost too fast, the way she lifted his hopeful heart, and completely turned his whole life around.

  Leaving Matt to only wonder how long it might be before she dropped him back down.

  THIRTY-TWO

  With the tight strain of a headache pounding at his temple, Matt tried to keep his focus on inventory as he restocked bottles. He never even got around to getting any coffee that morning, staying on to do some work after he got to the bar.

  It felt like he’d reopened more than one locked door, and all his assorted fears and doubts came spilling out. Now he had to try and clean up the mess.

  He called Rory to apologize for getting stuck, of course, but he still felt guilty about it. There wasn’t much right now that he didn’t feel guilty about.

  In the week before he called off the wedding, it was greatly disturbing for him to realize that every time he looked at Amanda, he would hear Rory’s words repeating in his head. Now the opposite was happening. He couldn’t get the things Amanda said out of his head, as much as he didn’t want them in there.

  He supposed this is what it felt like to have someone verbalize your worst fear to you. To acknowledge what you previously refused to acknowledge, and s
ay the words that you previously refused to speak. To tell you that it could happen.

  As much as Matt preferred to keep his inner conflicts where they belonged, on the inside, as he glanced over the crowd of regulars sitting in front of Luke, he had to admit he was beginning to see the allure of the barstool confessional. To be able to just pull up a seat and cry into his beer, to reflect over loss or maybe just the things he never had to begin with.

  Maybe the thing bothering him most of all was that this feeling was so oddly familiar. A general sense of depression and restlessness, like seeing the end in sight and waiting to get there—because the ride itself was out of your control.

  Rory, of course, had always been his emotional roller coaster. The highs had been few and unevenly spaced, but exhilarating and thrilling when they came, and the lows made him think he was possibly going to vomit on the next sharp turn.

  Matt also knew that life could be all about perspective, so maybe he should just be happy that she had been in his life for a while instead of not at all, and let it go at that. But screw trying to be noble and selfless. He tried that before and it didn’t make it hurt any less. It only meant he had to show it less, which actually turned out to be even more painful.

  “Hey.”

  He turned away from the rows of bottles to feel that quick twist inside his chest. Just the sight of her—those big beautiful eyes, silky hair, and endless legs—was enough to turn the knife.

  Swallowing audibly, he was glad for the noise and distraction.

  “Hi.”

  He edged over towards the service end of the bar, and she moved down as well. She turned more than a few heads, but, as always, didn’t even seem to notice.

  “Did you even stop to eat today?” she asked with an uncertain smile.

  He shook his head. “We just got really busy here.”

  “Well, how about maybe grabbing an early dinner?”

  Matt averted his eyes, lowering his gaze to the floor. “Um, I never did get this problem with the beer cooler fixed. And I’ve already shelled out too much money to maintenance guys. I think I’m just going to see if I can figure it out myself.”