Wrapped up in thoughts of Mathew—despite having not checked the clock—she forgot Carl was still in the building. She jumped at the sound of his voice as he emerged from the bathroom, then turned to face him with a smile she didn’t feel. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you wanted to grab some dinner with me.”
“Oh… Gosh…”
Carl was a nice-looking man with wavy blond hair, intense blue eyes, and a sinful smile. Over the past several months, as she considered dating again, she found herself staring at his soft, inviting lips and wondering how talented his mouth might be. But while she found him attractive—and had the sense he felt the same about her—she had yet to experience a spark. Definitely nothing like she felt for Mathew, even before last night’s fireworks.
Before she had a chance to gather her thoughts and politely decline, he said, “You’ve stopped several times to sip soda… something you’ve never done before. And your hands are shaking like crazy.” He reached for one and captured it between his, like the pressure would steady her. “You need to eat.”
His smile, as well as the hopeful light in his eyes, tempted her. If she hadn’t gone to Pandora’s and had a rocking good time with Mathew, she probably would have accepted Carl’s invitation.
But she had gone to Pandora’s, and Mathew did rock her world, more than just sexually speaking. He’d crawled under her skin and into her heart, and while she had serious doubts about her ability to break through or scale his walls, she wanted to try. It wasn’t fair to lead Carl on when he wasn’t the one she wanted. “Thank you for the offer, but I can’t.”
Before he could stage a protest, she slipped free of his grasp and exited the room. Her rented suite in a large office complex was small but perfectly suited her needs. There were two massage rooms, one empty except for a table, the other occupied by Muriel. A bathroom, accessible by both rooms, sat at the end of the short hallway, and the other end of the hallway emptied into the lobby. Two upholstered chairs and a loveseat, a bookshelf filled with various reading material, and a table with potted plants, a fountain, and an iPod welcomed clients and set a relaxing mood. One client who rented space a few doors down often sat in the lobby during her lunch break to decompress before starting the second half of her day.
As Muriel hoped, Carl followed her out of the room and into the lobby. But he wasn’t fooled—nor derailed—by her tactics as she opened the front door for him.
Laughing, he stopped on the top step and turned to face her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were desperately trying to get rid of me.” His laughter melted into a buttery soft smile and his eyes twinkled with kindness. “I don’t bite, you know.”
“I know, but I…” She hesitated and considered using her old tried and true excuse of not being ready to date. But with Lucas’s lesson about lying still sizzling her flesh, she was forced to admit the excuse itself was now tired and no longer true.
Carl took a step toward her and swept his hands down her arms in a gentle caress. She searched her body for a spark, or even a slow, simmering warmth ignited by his touch, but came up empty.
“It’s just dinner, Muriel. I’m not asking for anything more than that. I’m not pressuring you into anything.” He tilted his head and studied her. “I don’t like knowing you go home to an empty house every evening. Come out with me for a little fun.”
His kindness filled her chest with gratitude, and she almost wavered. But while he was sweet to worry, and she believed he wasn’t asking for more than a causal dinner, it still felt wrong to accept when she had nothing to offer in return.
Knowing body language was as important as the words a person spoke, she crossed her arms over her stomach and took a step back. Not out of fear, but because she wanted to be sure he understood the finality of her refusal.
However, before she got out the words to back up her stance, the sound of a car door slamming shut with more force than necessary had both their heads snapping toward the parking lot. In a dark corner by the dumpster sat a black Camaro—the same one she’d noticed parked there most evenings. She’d assumed it belonged to a business owner who leased space in her building, but once again, she’d assumed wrong.
Pay attention, Muriel. Mathew is around a lot more than you think.
A heart-stopping wave of aggression rolled off him and pushed across the parking lot toward Carl and her. A lesser man would’ve cowered under the weight and probably run for cover. But not Carl. His face darkened into a fierce, protective mask as he clenched his jaw and said, “Go inside, Muriel, and call the police.”
Muriel only worked two evenings each week, but it had been one of the few things she and Ian argued about. He didn’t like her walking out after dark, so even though her office was in a section of town considered safe, with a well-lit lot, Ian had always been there to walk her to her car. It took a long time to adjust to his absence on those evenings, and the realization she hadn’t been alone after all left her reeling with shock.
“Dammit, Muriel,” Carl said in a frantic tone as he shook her shoulders, trying to snap her out of the stupor while also trying to shove her back inside. “Get in there now. Lock the door and call the police.”
Knowing someone would get hurt if she didn’t do something—and quick—her heart rate escalated and the most primal part of her brain, the part that controlled fight or flight responses, snapped back online.
But before she could jump in front of Carl to put herself between the two men, Mathew said, “You might want to call an ambulance too, Muriel, because if Pretty Boy doesn’t back the fuck up and give you some space, he’s gonna need one.”
Mathew had been sitting in Muriel’s lot every Tuesday and Saturday night for the past eleven and a half months, but this was the first time he’d been concerned for her safety. He never felt it was a problem for her to leave the well-lit, high-occupancy complex after dark, but it had been one of Ian’s biggest worries. So after he died, Mathew stepped in and took over where his friend left off. He never told Muriel of his self-appointed position as bodyguard. He just added it to his list of dirty secrets.
But as Muriel crossed her arms and backed away from the blond, space-invading asshole, Mathew decided it was time to make an appearance. Before he even realized he’d moved, he was out of the car, storming across the lot, hell bent on destruction. And while his fists throbbed with the need to pound something—preferably the guy’s face—Mathew had to give the guy props for putting Muriel’s well-being above his own.
“Mathew, stop.” Her shrill voice cut through his rage as she wrapped a slender hand around the guy’s beefy bicep and tried to move him out of the way. When he kept himself squarely in front of her, using his body as a shield, she peeked over his shoulder and made eye contact with Mathew. “Carl is a client. I was just walking him out. I’m fine.”
He was about to tell her he didn’t give a fuck who the guy was, when Asshole’s head cocked to the side and his face scrunched up with confusion. “Galindo?”
Although he didn’t divert from his current trajectory, his name rolling from the guy’s mouth did slow Mathew’s pounding pace. Since the guy had removed his hands from Muriel’s arms, Mathew was a little more able to focus on his face.
Well, shit… Carl Germaine had been his client too. When Carl discovered his wife had been sleeping with his business partner for years, Carl not only lost his wife and his best friend/business partner, but nearly lost his business as well. It was a brutal case, and while Germaine was fair and reasonable with his wife for the sake of their children, he’d gone for the jugular with his business partner—make that ex-business partner. Mathew didn’t want anyone suffering the way Carl had, and the case was one of his most satisfying wins.
Mathew planted his hands on his hips and frowned as he tried to assess the situation. He didn’t know the context of their conversation, and he knew he’d read her body language correctly. But Carl was a good guy, and if Muriel flat out told him to lea
ve, Germaine would’ve stuffed his wounded pride in a sack and hauled it to his car without hesitation.
When Mathew continued to take up real estate on the sidewalk but didn’t speak, Muriel stepped around Carl and offered a small, tentative smile. “I guess you two already know each other, so I’ll save the introductions.” Her voice was soft and measured as her gaze flipped back and forth between them, taking stock of the situation and treating them like wild animals that needed calming before they ripped out the other’s throat.
He couldn’t speak for Germaine, but the assessment accurately depicted Mathew’s state of mind when he saw the man crowding Muriel. It didn’t have anything to do with jealous possessiveness. Not at all. He was just concerned for her safety and acted accordingly with her best interests in mind.
Keep telling yourself that, asshole.
Flicking her gaze to Germaine, she said, “Mathew is one of my oldest friends. I’ve known him since college.” While shifting her soft blue gaze back to Mathew, she eased down a step and reached for his a hand. “Mathew’s here for a quick massage to unwind after a difficult day.”
He cocked his eyebrow and bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing at the boldfaced lie falling from her sweet mouth. But why make up a story unless he’d been partially right about Germaine? Whatever was going on between them, she not only wanted Mathew to stay, but also wanted to give Carl the impression she and Mathew were more than casual friends.
God… if that were only true.
Even though the sun had gone down and the temperature was cool on this late April evening, sweat popped out across his forehead and the back of his neck as he dropped his gaze to her slender fingers, wiggling back and forth, encouraging him to take hold of her hand.
Touching her would only add to the suffocating ache he’d been living with since abandoning her the night before, but—fuck it—he reached for her anyway. As her fingers laced through his, memories assaulted his mind and heart. Fingers twined together… her body pressed to his… her eyes locked on his as she screamed from the force of her orgasm… him opening up to her.
Swallowing roughly against the swell of emotions, he willed his body not to respond, but the command was useless. Just being in Muriel’s presence had his heart hammering and his cock hardening, pulsing with unleashed furor to finish what they’d started the night before.
He’d spent a miserable night tossing and turning, regretting his decision to leave, and not just because he ached with the need to take her, mark her, claim her in every way. He’d been a cowardly ass to walk away, but he’d been so overwhelmed with the surge of emotions ripping through him, he hadn’t known what else to do. But now he needed to bring the shit back up again and take a bath in it, because he refused to allow her to once again think she’d done something to drive him away.
When she moved another step closer and pressed her palm flat to his, he curled his fingers around hers in a gesture that would, by itself, appear intimate. But just in case Carl didn’t get the message Muriel was off-limits, Mathew pulled her to him and tucked her in close to his side.
He might be an ass for working so hard to give Germaine the wrong impression, but no one ever accused him of being noble or chivalrous. Besides, Muriel started it by reaching out to him. He was just playing the game by her rules.
A ripple of satisfaction washed through him as Germaine’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. His attitude toward Mathew switched from mild confusion to frosty, and Mathew was just fine with that.
Turning to Muriel with a bright flash of teeth, Carl said, “I’ll let you get back to work. Have a great night, Muriel. I’ll see you next week.” As he passed Mathew, he tipped his head and said, “Good to see you.” But the tight set of his shoulder as he bumped into Mathew screamed his displeasure.
After Carl slipped into his car and pulled away, Muriel turned to Mathew with bright, shining eyes. “I can’t believe you’ve been watching out for me all this time, and I didn’t even know you were here.”
It was a declaration, not a question and… Shit, he so didn’t deserve the hero worship shining in her eyes. He hadn’t performed a single heroic act in his entire life. With a careless shrug, he slipped his hand free and stated facts. “Ian didn’t like you leaving by yourself.”
She didn’t try and retain her grip on his hand, but she also didn’t change her expression. “No, he didn’t.”
Her soft, intimate smile twisted him in a knot and made him want to work harder than he’d ever worked for anything to earn that adoring smile.
Speaking over her shoulder as she turned and climbed the steps, she said, “I’ve seen that car a hundred times but had no idea you were sitting in it.” Muttering mostly to herself, she said, “I guess I’m as clueless as Lucas thinks.”
His brow furrowed and his shoulders tensed as he made a mental note to ask Lucas why he would give Muriel that impression. She was smart and witty, definitely the toughest woman he knew. If Lucas didn’t have a damn good explanation, he might get an ass-whooping. After putting him through hell last night, Mathew itched to give him one anyway.
When she turned left and disappeared down a hallway, he shut the door and followed like she had an invisible string hooked through his nose, dragging him along behind. Smooth, calming scents permeated her office, and he found himself breathing deep, trying to capture the tranquility of the space with the hopes of carrying a little peace with him when he left. Everything about her office was like the woman herself: soothing.
He’d had a shitty day at work—the weekend meant nothing to a workaholic who preferred being in the office than home alone—and the evening… Well, it went as expected. Lili had been crying when she arrived at Pandora’s, and her tears only increased as Lucas strapped her to the spanking bench, put a ball gag in her mouth, and left her under the bright stage lights to wait for Mathew.
Meanwhile, he stood in the security room watching over her while his stomach knotted into a tight fist of dread. Spanking a sub for punishment was a far cry—no pun intended—from spanking for erotic pleasure. He’d hated every fucking minute, and the only thing that made the evening tolerable was knowing he would see Muriel, even if from a distance.
He never intended to make his presence known but had to admit he was grateful Germaine forced his hand. After just a few minutes in her presence, the stress of his day drained away, even as a different kind of tension began to build.
When he found her leaning over the end of a massage table, making an adjustment, with her perfect ass clearly defined through the thin fabric of her long Bohemian dress, nuclear heat swept through him. His body locked up and his dick grew painfully hard as he imagined stepping up behind her, pressing a hand to the center of her back to keep her in position, then fucking her like an animal.
Shaking his head to clear the image, he turned away and checked out the rest of the room. A small desk with a lamp and stereo sat against the back wall. A dorm-size refrigerator with a microwave built in over it sat against the left. A few feet down from where he stood, on the same wall, was a doorway leading into the bathroom at the end of the hall. A corner cabinet with open shelves at the top and enclosed cabinets at the bottom rounded out the room. It was small but cozy and inviting and further enhanced the ambiance of the lobby.
“Take off your shirt and climb up here,” Muriel said, patting the table.
His gaze snapped to hers, and he stumbled back a step. “What?”
Her smile was mischievous. “I told Carl you were here for a massage. You’re not going to make a liar out of me, are you?” Patting the table again, she said, “Come on. I promise to be gentle.”
Mathew closed his eyes and gulped. Lying on her table while she touched him would be a beautiful torture similar to last night. The memory of her running her hands down his chest while her eyes ate him up kept him hard and hungry all day. Allowing her to touch him again would be like an alcoholic taking a drink. A small amount would be too much; a lifetime of touching wo
uldn’t be enough.
She took a slow, tentative step around the end of the table and stopped directly in front of him. “Mathew”—she licked her lips and dipped her eyes—“Sir…”
Oh shit… Her slipping into submissive mode and referring to him as Sir—like he was her Sir—was a solid one-two punch to the gut and throat. His breath came in short pants and his chest cavity pounded as he struggled to maintain his composure and not order her to climb on that comfy table, flat on her back, spread eagle.
“I know you’ve had a rough evening. Please let me take care of you for just a little while.”
Fuck me.
He rubbed his hand in a circle over his chest, trying to assuage the burning ache bubbling to the surface. Her recognition of how difficult his evening had been melted a huge chunk of his frozen heart, and he was close to drowning in the flash flood of emotion.
Her willingness—her desire—to take care of him nearly brought him to his knees. He tightened his legs to keep himself upright, but his determination to keep her at a distance crumbled. His hands shook as he fumbled with the buttons, trying to get out of his shirt.
Even though her giving him a massage would throw him even deeper into hell, jumping without a net was worth the risk. At least in the short term. Later tonight, when he went home alone… Tomorrow, when he went about his day without her… Monday, when he started his week without her…
He mentally shrugged. Nothing would be any different than it’d been for the past thirteen years. He’d just keep going through the motions of life without actually living.
Chapter 10
Lying flat on his back on Muriel’s massage table, Mathew fixated on the ceiling above his head and fisted his hands at his sides. It was either that or hungrily track her movements around the room… or grab her by the back of the neck and pull her down for a bone-melting kiss that led to a helluva lot more.
Coveted (Pandora's Playground #1) Page 10
