The Art of Persuasion: Book 4 of The Swashbuckling Romance Series

by Myers, Heather C.

  He's so beautiful, which is weird to think about a guy. But no other word fits. Of course, you can say he's handsome and attractive and sexy and cute and adorable and gorgeous and all those other words. They're not a lie. But to me, Matt is beautiful because he exceeds all beauty in every way. He is all of those words to the extreme. I can't not stare at him and I'm sure I'm not the only girl who feels this way. Hell, maybe a few of the men do as well. I certainly can't blame them for it.

  Because of Matt's beauty, I'm sure he's approached a lot for sex and other things. He's also charming when he wants to be, which is the worst combination because that just screams great sex and a gentleman, so even if no relationship stems from this, at least he'll be nice in the morning.

  But, with me, Matt's more than that. I'm his and he's mine and that's it. There's no reason to overthink things.

  "Isla?"

  My eyes find Matt's and he's looking at me with those warm brown eyes through heavy lids. His hand reaches out to cup my cheek and I immediately lean into his touch. Somehow, my cheek fits perfectly in his palm - they're rough but warm - and his thumb is long enough to trace the line of my jaw with the pad of his thumb.

  It's such an intimate gesture, a gesture I would have otherwise been afraid of, run away from, closed myself off from. I used to be afraid because I didn't know. And that's okay. I'm not mad at myself. I don't regret anything. Because everything and everyone led me to Matt. And Matt is the only one who matters.

  "Hmm?"

  I can't formulate words right now. I'm too lazy, I'm too tired, but that's okay because I don't have to impress Matt. I don't have to pretend to be anyone else but me. And more than that, I don't have to be ashamed of who I am. Like, I've realized I'm someone worth loving. I suppose the fact that it takes a man for me to realize that fact about myself is a little disappointing and typically cliché but sometimes it takes someone loving you in spite of your ignorance to make you realize just how much you're worth.

  His fingers move from my jaw and trace the outline of my lips, the tips of my cheeks, the bridge of my nose. He's touching me, caressing me, everywhere, like he's trying to memorize my face, like he's trying to memorize me.

  His lips curl up in a smile, a tired one, and he closes his eyes, almost as though he's ready to fall back asleep. His hands are holding my waist now, one arm thrown over me while another is on my hip. It's like he has to touch me, he has to connect with me physically in some way.

  "This isn't a dream?" he asks, his voice mumbled with sleep. His eyes stay closed but his brow is pushed up like he's trying to open his eyes but just can't quite seem to do it.

  "This isn't a dream," I tell him, and now it's my turn to play with the scruff on his chin. I'm flat on my stomach, my weight on one elbow so my arm can hold him in the same way he can hold me. "Thank God this isn't a dream."

  "Thank God," he agrees.

  I smile at his words and close my eyes again. This is what bliss must feel like, the contentment that feels complete. Like there's nothing else for me to search for anymore because everything I could ever want is right here, within my grasp. I didn't realize it before but that's a big deal. It's something I don't take for granted.

  My thoughts drift to last night. To early this morning. The way we made love - I don't even roll my eyes at the phrase - the way he showered my body with pleasure. The way he said my name over and over again. The way his eyes penetrated through to my very soul the way they always have, from the first moment we met. The way our bodies connected, like we're two shoes of the same pair. Like we belong together.

  Sex is sex. Sex feels good for the most part, no matter who you're with. But there's something special and rare to have sex with someone you love, someone you care about and you absolutely know who cares about you. I can't put it into words and I can't even explain it to myself, but there's almost a magic that seems to accompany our bodies when we have sex... It just makes it all the better. It takes it to a level I didn't know existed.

  Matt and I didn't use any protection. I didn't even think about it, which was partly on me. I'm going to have to ask Sarah for whatever birth control they use down here so I won't get pregnant before the two of us actually plan for it. Yes, I want to have a family with Matt. Definitely not quite yet but in the future for sure. I refuse to analyze that complete three sixty change in my belief system just because I don't want to taint this moment we're both in.

  There's something special and even sexy about connecting with someone without barriers protecting you. It indicates complete and thorough trust in your partner and there is a difference in sex that can't be there with condoms. I'm glad I didn't know this until now, though. I'm glad it's Matt who taught me these things and who will continue to teach me things I didn't know. I'll never have to protect myself from him; there will never be anything between us both literally and figuratively.

  I turn my body and curl into him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He's so warm and comfortable that it isn't long before I feel myself fall asleep again.

  ---

  It's not long before I wake up again. The sun is setting and my stomach is so loud, it sounds like a lion. I see Matt is still asleep, his mouth ajar, soft snores coming from that perfect nose. My heart bursts at the sight of him and I'm tempted to wake him up so we can do it again and again and again because, my God, he's that good, but I stop myself.

  I need to talk to Sarah. I need to tell her about Henry.

  I crawl out of bed, which is a struggle, and pull on the least amount of clothes I can while still looking decent. Instead of even brushing my hair, I throw my hair into a messy bun and slip on some boots before I sneak out of the room without waking up Matt. I head to Sarah’s room. It's an effort for me to even walk right now, which sounds so dumb and lazy but to be honest, that's exactly how I'm feeling. My legs are numb, jelly, and they shake when I take a step. In fact, as I walk, I grip the wall tight because I don't trust myself not to lose my balance and buckle down.

  I yawn and knock on her door, half-hoping she isn't there. I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head to the side. I want nothing more than to get another hour of sleep, maybe two, before having more sex and eating a lot of food. I feel very ego right now, craving my basic needs over anything more mental and spiritual.

  At that moment, the door pops open and Sarah's standing in a pretty green dress, her hair in a tight braid.

  "Yes?" she asks, raising her brow. As always, she's her usual direct self.

  "I need to talk to you," I tell her and then my eyes are forced shut as a yawn overtakes my mouth and I'm paralyzed for those seconds.

  "You need a nap," Sarah says though I do detect a sparkle of amusement in her brown eyes.

  I nod enthusiastically. "I do," I agree. "But really, we need to talk. It's important."

  "Oh?" She raises a curious brow. She opens her mouth, ready to ask me another question but her eyes narrow in on something on my person. I'm just too tired to try and figure out what. "What are those marks on your neck?"

  Until she says that.

  My face immediately turns crimson because I know she's referring to my hickeys, hickeys I didn't even know I had until right now. I knew Matt was enthusiastic last night, but I didn't know his enthusiasm is this public, so to speak.

  “I, uh.”

  At that moment, Matt appears next to me. For some strange reason, the only thing he’s wearing is pants. I have no idea why he doesn’t think to maybe run a brush through his hair to get rid of the obvious sex that reeks in its formation, and God forbid the man throw a shirt on that body. Even though his chest is a magnificent work of art and needs to be kept in a museum.

  Ahem.

  “Where’d you get off to?” Matt asks me, either ignoring the fact that his sister is standing right there, interrogating me about my hickeys that he gave to me, or he’s simply not aware of what’s going on. Honestly, I think it legitimately could be both.

  “Is something going on between the two o
f you?” Sarah asks, her eyes already narrowed and shifting between me and Matt with obvious suspicion in them. “Are you guys fucking?”

  “Sarah!” Matt says, his eyes wide with surprise. “That’s a bit crude, isn’t it?”

  Sarah gives him a look, crossing her arms over her chest. “You always were the romantic,” she says but it comes out like it’s a bad thing. Her eyes look back at me. “All right, girl sleeping with my brother, what did you want to talk to me about? That you guys are fucking?”

  “No,” I say.

  “You left me to talk to Sarah?” Matt asks, clearly offended that I think talking to Sarah is more important than literal sleeping with him. “Why?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Sarah says, exasperated.

  “I came to talk to Sarah because I know” –

  “Who came to talk to Sarah?” a voice behind her asks.

  Before I can blink, Henry appears from Sarah’s room, wrapping his arms around his wife’s waist and pulling her back closer to him. He looks like he just woke up – we probably woke him up, to be honest – and suddenly, my lips clamp together and I can’t speak, not now, not when he’s right here, holding onto Sarah the way a husband should hold onto his wife.

  Henry’s eyes find mine and he looks at me like he knows, like he knows what I’m going to tell Sarah. I can’t explain how, I can’t explain why or anything like that; all I know is that it’s this gut feeling that twists my gut in a vice grip and makes it hard for me to breathe. He knows. Henry knows I know.

  “I, uh, yes, you’re right,” I say, my face turning an unattractive shade of red. I can feel it creeping up my skin, like dread, like the cold. I need to get out of here with Matt. I’ll tell Sarah another way. Not now. Not with Henry right here. “I came to tell you that Matt and I are, you know, together, and I’m very happy about it. Ecstatic. I can’t even stay in bed because I’m so excited that he’s with me and I’m with him. And you’re his sister so you should be, too. Not with us, no! What I mean to say is, I know you’re important to him so it’s only right that you know, you know? About us, I mean.”

  “How sweet,” Henry says. For some reason, my ears pick up this dark undertone because he knows I’m lying, he knows I’m hiding something.

  “So, um, yeah." I spread my arms out because why not? I'm already making myself look like a spectacle, why not emphasize the weirdness even more. "Me and Matt, Matt and me, we..." I don't even think I'm being grammatically coherent right now, which is terrible all by itself, but whatever. I turned my eyes to Matt, who is looking at me with a quirked brow and a cocked head. "I'm in love with your brother, Sarah. And I wanted to come and tell you personally because you deserve to know directly, not, you know, by stumbling upon us in the throes of passion."

  Sarah blanches and even I pull a face. What the hell is going on with me? Throes of passion - who do I think I am, William Shakespeare? Because I certainly am acting like a fool.

  Jesus.

  "I think it's adorable," Henry says, keeping his eyes on me - because he knows, I'm telling you he knows how badly I'm lying - and tightens his grip around Sarah's waist, pulling her closer to him. "Remember how passionate we were about each other?"

  Sarah gives me a face of mixed disgust. I don't blame her. "Yes, but that does not mean I'd like to hear about my brother's sex life," she points out and I happen to agree with her, I just can't tell her what I originally intended to say.

  "And I'm sure Isla doesn't intend to go into details because she knows we wouldn't like to share that," Matt says, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing. I don't think it's supposed to be reassuring - because it's definitely not - it's more of a symbol that says, 'let's go right now.'

  "Right," I say. "Well, I said what I needed to say. I guess I'll be going now."

  "Okay." Sarah's still confused. She's looking at me like I need to be locked up. If only Henry weren't here, if only Matt stayed in the room, I'd be able to tell her everything.

  "Maybe you can talk to me about how you handle um your monthly flow?" I say because Sarah still needs to know and I need to tell her, even if it means embarrassing myself about periods again. "Again? Just us girls so we don't have to put the men through the discussion."

  I can feel the waves of disgust rolling off Matt's shoulders. Henry is giving me a similar look with his scrunched nose and furrowed brow. Even Sarah doesn't know how to respond so she nods.

  "Right," Matt says, dropping his arm from my shoulder to take my hand. "Now that that's finally done with, I think it's time we take our leave. G'night."

  Chapter 19

  "What was that?" Matt asks the minute we step into my room and he closes the door behind me. Maybe it's our room now, now that we're together and have slept together in more ways than one. I don't see him going down to his room to sleep by himself and I don't want to sleep alone when I could be sleeping with him.

  I spin on the heel of my boot in order to face him. His eyes still penetrate me, still see straight through this façade I still think I'm good at hiding even with him, and they pin me to my place. They're not filled with judgment or annoyance; they're filled with questions waiting to be answered by me. My heart hammers against my chest and I can hear it echo throughout my head and I don't know how to answer those questions because Matt deserves the truth - I promise myself I will never lie to him, even if it is the easy way out - but if I tell him the truth about Isla he may very well leave me since I haven't told Sarah yet, and if I haven't told Sarah, I'm putting her at risk. I am. I can't even deny that.

  But I don't want him to leave me. And now I'm afraid because if he does, I would totally understand the reason. It would be my fault, not his. I can't have that. But I also can't lie to him.

  I know what I have to do. I'm not an idiot. I don't want to do it but I do because I want to get this off of my chest and out of my system. I don't want blood on my hands and I don't want to be responsible for this on my own. If Matt gets upset, it's understandable. He has that right and he has a good reason. I hope - I pray - he doesn't leave me for this, but I decide that if he does, it's his loss. I made a mistake by not going to Sarah immediately but that doesn't mean I'm a bad person, that I'm not worth being with.

  Right?

  Oh boy. Here goes nothing.

  "Matt," I say in a voice just above a whisper. I have no idea if Henry is just outside listening to our conversation because clearly he knows something is up. My behavior revealed my hand, after all. He just doesn't know that I know. Though he may be able to connect the dots.

  Matt pushes his brow up, indicating I should go on, but makes no move to interrupt me. He's so good that way. He has the patience of a saint. Patience I wish I had.

  God, I love him. I love him so much.

  "I think Henry killed those girls," I tell him.

  Matt furrows his brow, thoroughly confused. His eyes squint a bit and a wrinkle appears over the bridge of his nose. He doesn't get it. That's okay. I can explain and then he'll understand.

  "I thought it was Corsa," he says. He tilts his head to the side, trying to figure this out. "That's why you found me that night. I was confronting her."

  I bite my lip to keep from making a smartass comment. I know Matt didn't go out of his way to kiss BCorsa that night. I would probably even believe that he didn't even like it. But it's hard for me to picture him confronting Corsa as she climbs in his lap and kisses him slowly. He could have pushed her off at any moment. He could have said no. He could have done something to prevent that kiss.

  "You were confronting her?" I finally say. I feel like that's the safest question for me to ask without coming across like a jealous hag. Despite the complete disgust I feel at just thinking of Corsa and Matt together, the last thing I want to come across as is jealous. Because I do trust Matt, and if he says he was confronting her, I believe him. I don't have to like his methods but I won't question him. I will believe him. I do.

  "I was," he insists, a tad defensively
even though I've given him no reason to be defensive. "I knew she and Briyella were friends but they had similar tastes. Last I heard, they were squabbling over the same man - a wealthy customer that was a common patron here. He liked both of them together though sometimes he picked one over the other. Corsa has always been the jealous sort so when we found Briyella... I just assumed."

  "Just because she has motive doesn't mean she did it," I say, and even though I'm trying not to come out like a jealous hag, it's certainly coming out that way. There's an edge to my voice I can't seem to rid myself of.

  Matt gave me an annoyed look. "I know that," he insists, "but this is my sister's place of business. I had to check."

  "You realize Sarah is older than you and is a capable adult, able to take care of herself, right?" I ask. I'm not even trying to control myself at this point. My arms are crossed over my chest and there's a knowing look on my face that insists I'm going to think what I'm going to think, regardless of what he says.