by Siân James
It had been almost a week since he’d driven me to Lismore and back. The return trip had been mostly silent, the radio and passing farms our main source of entertainment. I alternately fumed at his presumptuous and cocky behaviour, and worried over my aggressive response. Had I been too damning? Surely, if he was going to strut around and pretend like he was God’s gift to women, he should be able to take a poke at his vanity?
It wasn’t long past the bum-crack of dawn, so my brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders yet—and that is the reason why I didn’t immediately pull back.
The only reason.
The first thing I noticed was his skin was cool against mine despite the heat already starting to warm the early morning air, and his hair was spiky and darker in parts, still damp from what I guessed was a morning swim. Drops of water clung to his shoulders, leaving tiny white salt crystals like stardust as they dried, and I had the sudden overwhelming and obscene urge to lean in and lick them from his sun-drenched skin—stopping myself only after I’d started to swing forwards.
BZZZZZ!
Mayday, mayday! Retreat! Retreat!
as my sluggish brain comprehended the situation, I pulled back, angry for not paying attention to where I was going and for my bizarre visceral reaction. But we weren’t quite in synch, and his arms tightened, bringing me closer.
I paused. My eyes met his, a deep, ocean-blue surrounded by thick, sandy blond lashes. The jolt of awareness I felt in my stomach was echoed in the way his held me. My heart, already pumping fast, accelerated, thundering in my veins and flooding my body with acute, sensual awareness.
Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. What was going on? It must be something to do with the fact he’d been on my mind so much the last week. This clarification did nothing to quell the surging emotions in my body, though.
My eyes drifted back to the water on his shoulder and I licked my lips, the thought of his salty skin making me suddenly parched. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and the frisson of attraction shimmered in the air between us.
Now call me crazy but I will forever call that the closest thing I got to having a ‘Matrix Moment’. You know when time slowed down and Keanu dodged the bullets?
Anyway. I digress.
My skin tingled and tightened, the feeling spreading up my spine, across my shoulders and down to my nipples both of which reacted accordingly. An answering heaviness bloomed low in my belly, awakening a flood of butterflies as well as something much more carnal.
Golden stubble lined his jaw, white ocean salt dusted his skin, and I lifted my hand to dust it off.
His warm, coffee scented breath fanned across my face, and I wondered whether his mouth tasted of coffee too, or would there be a hint of tangy ocean saltiness to colour it? My wondering burgeoned quickly to a consuming need to know. My body, pulled by some invisible force swayed forwards again and my eyes flicked up to meet his.
More prominent than his typical wary expression was the desire flaring bright and hot in his eyes, making my breath catch in my throat.
We paused in that moment, teetering on the brink. One beat passed, then another. His arms shifted infinitesimally, his eyes travelled from my eyes to my mouth and back.
“You gonna kiss me, Number Four? I don’t have all day,” he rumbled, and his words were like a bucket of cold water.
Before I could have a coherent thought, I’d pushed away from him and found myself standing three steps back. Bereft and disoriented, I knew he felt the same by the expression on his face. His arms were still open as if reaching for me, but the desire was gone, his expression guarded once more.
“I have to get to Pilates.”
Rubbing his jaw, he studied me, , then stepped aside and swept his hand in front of him. ”Don’t let me stop you.”
I looked from his outstretched hand, a hand that was seconds ago pulling me close, to his face.
Was that it?
He waited.
It was my move.
I made a guttural noise even I didn’t understand and swept past him, throwing out a “Watch where you’re going next time!” over my shoulder.
The last thing I heard before running out the door at the bottom of the stairs was his soft laughter, and for no reason I could fathom other than I must have been going crazy, I grinned.
Chapter 7
A day after our interaction in the stairwell, I still couldn’t get Matt or his salty skin out of my head. I guess it had been longer between “drinks” than I’d realised, and while I certainly saw to my personal needs myself from time to time, all the romance novels I’d read ensured me that when done with the right man, it could be so much more satisfying.
I had always been skeptical because I had yet to experience this magical unicorn “ahem” man for myself. But apparently my body was of a different opinion, one being that it’d like to practice said activities with Matt.
I wasn’t blind. I’d already catalogued all his fine features; I just hadn’t expected the connection in the stairwell or the reaction his words—a simple request for a kiss—would elicit.
The next day my head was in the clouds. But when I ran into Matt at the construction site, he was all cool business man, showing no indication something had happened between us at all, and I was annoyed. And hurt. I reminded myself of my rules. Matt Carter, with his ability to switch his babe magnet on and off, was clearly not the kind of man I should have anything to do with.
Try as I might, though, I’d developed a sixth sense for knowing wherever he went on the site. Not until he left the site in the early afternoon was I finally able to breathe a sigh of relief, no longer anxious whether I’d let my mind wander only for him to show up in front of me asking about fuse boxes or water mains.
As soon as my head hit the pillow that night, my subconscious took over.
We were in a room I didn’t recognise, but in the way of dreams, I also knew it was my house. Matt stood a few steps away holding a hammer and wanting to know if I needed him to hammer any nails (subtle). I told him I’d already done it and the next moment he was in front of me, his shirt gone and those salt crystals clinging to his bare shoulders. More turned on than I’d ever been in my life, I leaned forwards and licked at one.
One of us groaned, and his hand came around to grip my butt, pulling my hips into his and grinding deliciously against my centre. It was so good, but in my foggy dream we couldn’t gain any serious momentum.
And just like that he’d backed me up so I was plastered to a wall. His other hand snaked into my hair, gently tugging, and tilting my head back, his breath hot on my face as he traced his lips softly from my shoulder to my neck, up to my jaw and finally along until his lips met mine.
He tasted of salt and coffee and spice, and he was delicious. I indulged in the kiss like one only could in a dream, my arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in deeper. His tongue swept inside, caressing mine as his hips thrust forwards, rocking against my core, causing my need to wind tighter.
My nipples tingled like they were plugged into a TENS machine (not sexy but this was a dream), and the next moment Matt dipped his head down to my suddenly exposed breast, swirling his tongue around one stiff peak before taking it into his hot mouth.
This time it was definitely me who groaned and strained towards him, rubbing myself shamelessly against his hard body in my consuming desire to find release. Strong hands roamed my back and sides, seemingly unable to get enough. His hot mouth traced its way back to mine, plundering, devouring.
Frustrated, I wished we were lying down and then we were, his tall body cocooning me as he rocked against my core, his tongue again tracing mind-bending circles around one straining nipple. Shafts of pleasure shot between my nipple and my core but it wasn’t enough; I needed more. I was empty—I needed him inside.
Then everything changed, he got up, turned away from me and the room shifted taking us to the forecourt of the Old cinema Complex. Andy and Luke were there, completely oblivious to our recent carnal embrace, and Mat
t was all business, his interest in me forgotten. I reached for him but couldn’t move, and I woke up tangled in my sheets, the early morning sun streaming through my bedroom windows, and a frustrated throbbing between my legs.
“How cliché.” I murmured before untangling and taking a shower during which I did my best to relieve the ache but was left unsatisfied and irritable.
So irritable that by mid-morning Camille had started avoiding me and had presumably texted Tash and instructed her to bring coffee and cake for an impromptu therapy session.
“So,” Tash began after handing me my coffee and a paper bag with a muffin, “what’s up your bum?”
“What?” I snapped then took a fortifying sip.
Tash raised a brow at Camille who gave her a look that said, “See what I mean?”
I groaned. ”Sorry—I’m so sorry, Camille. I had a rough night. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Oui, of this I am aware, but the best way to deal with that is to unburden yourself. Delegate, and share your concerns with you friends.” She gestured to herself and Tash.
I closed my eyes and dropped my head back on my shoulders, releasing a huge sigh. How could I tell them the main source of my stress was the sexual tension coursing through me over my landlord? How embarrassed was I to have dreamed about us together in such a way? I couldn’t even fathom how I was going to look him in the eye without giving away my thoughts. And what even were my thoughts?
Was I attracted to him?
Yes.
Did I want to kiss him in real life?
Yes.
Was I actually going to do it?
Hell no.
“Morning, ladies.”
My eyes shot open in alarm, heat hitting my cheeks, and I cursed myself for not being on guard.
“Morning,” We chorussed, Camille was smiling over my shoulder at Matt but Tash’s eyes had returned to my face, her eyes widening in curiosity.
I turned so I wasn’t quite facing him.
“Coffee break?”
“Yup, it’s morning tea time, and we’re taking it,” Tash replied.
He nodded and eyed the cup in her hands. “That’s my next stop.” He turned to me. “Can I have a quick word?”
I nodded mutely and followed him to the door and out of ear shot of my friends. Oh God, please don’t let him bring up yesterday in the stair well. If he did, there would be no way I would be able to keep my thoughts and dream memories from my face.
I steeled myself, donning the best blank mask I could manage and met his eyes. “What’s up?”
Inquisitive sapphires moved across my face, studying my features. I remained neutral. I was a blank slate. I don’t know if he was searching for any repercussions or flirtations from yesterday’s interlude but if he was, he had nothing to worry about.
I could be professional too.
After a moment, the silent inspection passed, and he glanced around. “Look,” he said, his voice low, “I want to let you know I overheard some of your carpenters at the pub yesterday. They were suggesting you might not be completely switched onto some of their charges.“ I stiffened but Matt continued, ”They intend to see if they can wrangle some extra money from you. I’m not sure how, but I can keep an eye on them if you like. Make sure all their hours and products tally up and let you know if they try anything.”
I knew who he was talking about, of course. I’d been in a bind last week when my original choice of carpenters had pulled out due to, of all things, a stomach bug they caught after a weekend wedding most of them attended. I’d originally held the contract for the flowers for that wedding. I’d handed it off to a brilliant florist in Byron Bay who had messaged me with photos of their beautiful floral creations as well as an after shot of her head half submerged in a toilet. Sounded like the virus was ruthless. After a quick round of calls, I’d employed the only guys who were able to come on short notice. Not wanting to be ungrateful, I’d agreed to a contract, which we had yet to finalise.
Now I’d have to call them and inform them I’d heard of their plan and they’d have twenty-four hours to clear their things out of the building.
Matt shifted, and I refocussed on him. His face was a masque of concern, and it made me feel dichotomously ashamed and angry. The shame was ridiculous because how was this my fault? Would it have happened if I were a man? Possibly—but probably not.
“Thanks, but I’ll handle it,” I responded.
“Honestly, I don’t mind.”
I gave him a tight smile. “Thank you, but no. It’s my business, so I’ll take care of it.”
He nodded, turned to go, then hesitated. “Izzie.” His voice rumbling over my name sent tingles down my spine. It might have been the first time he’d used my name; usually he called me Number Four.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s happened to all of us at one time or another, whether we know it or not.”
I nodded stiffly while he studied my face once more. After a moment where I could only wonder at what he saw, he sighed, lifted his hand in farewell to Tash and Camille and left.
“What was that all about?” Tash hissed as I rejoined them.
I sunk onto an empty crate and groaned. “I need new carpenters.”
“Why?” Tash asked.
I gave them a quick rundown, and after outraged gasps and threats to their manhood, Camille added, “Well, on the bright side, I have a friend with a brother who is apparently a wonderful carpenter and who has recently relocated with his family to Byron Bay. He is obviously looking for work, happy to travel and eager to gain a good reputation. Shall I get his name and number for you?”
I nodded wearily. “Please.”
After a few quick texts with her friend, Camille gave me the details of the new carpenter, and I stored it on my growing list of things to do today behind Call current carpenters and fire their arses.
“I can call him if you like?” she offered.
“Thanks, but no. I can do it.” After Matt's revelations, I wanted to grill whoever I was hiring next in the hopes I wouldn’t make the same mistake.
Tash had remained silent through this exchange, fidgeting in her seat and waiting to pounce. “So, before we were interrupted, you were going to tell us what’s got your knickers in a twist …”
I groaned and dropped my face into my hands. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“Unburden yourself to your friends. Get it out of your head so you can stop thinking about it,” she replied.
“It doesn’t work that way.” My voice came out muffled, my face still in my hands.
“Can I guess?”
I shook my head. “I’d really rather you didn’t.”
She ignored me. “I think you have the hots for Matt and something has happened.”
“Ooooh, did he kiss you?” Camille waded in.
I shook my head and groaned again.
“Did you kiss him?” Tash supplied.
“Or did you make a pass and he didn’t respond?” Camille asked while I could sense Tash bouncing on her seat beside me.
“Oh, oh! I know! You froze up! He kissed you and you froze up!” She paused, her face a mask of confusion, “But why?”
“No!” I lifted my face from my hands. “None of those things.” I sighed, knowing the easiest path was to just get it out. “We ran into each other in the stair well yesterday. Like, literally ran into each other.” I smacked my palms together in front of me, and Camille and Tash’s eyes widened as they leaned forwards.
I described what happened and his blank, professionalism the rest of the day.
Tash sat back appearing cross. “Well, that’s disappointing.”
Camille cocked her head. “Oui, it is. And you say he was still professional and aloof when he spoke to you today?”
I nodded miserably. “But that isn’t even the worst of it.” My voice was a whisper, so they leaned in again.
“You had a sex dream about him,” Tash guessed.
My mouth dropped
open. “How did you know?” I squeaked.
She sat back and gave me a smug smile. “Please, after the interlude you described and the fact that you haven’t gotten any in years—and let’s not forget the man is hot as Hades and presses all your buttons? Of course you were going to have a sex dream about him!”
A shuffling sounded at the open door. We turned and I felt my face go beet red. The pinkish cheeks I had before had nothing on this. Matt stood in the doorway looking thunderous.
He’d heard.
I replayed Tash’s last words in my head. My heart raced in my chest before it gave a weird stuttering thump and dropped to the floor.
His eyes met mine, swirling pools of midnight, and I tried to swallow but my mouth was dry.
“Everything okay?” Tash squeaked from behind me.
Matt’s unsettling gaze moved from me, to her, then back again. When he spoke, his voice was strained with an emotion I couldn’t identify but judging by his face, it was akin to fury. “You have a delivery. He’s out back. Needs to know where to put it and get a signature.”
Must be some of the lumber.
I nodded and whispered, ”Thank you.”
He gave me a tight smile, a nod, then left.
“Crap. Crap, crap, crapity, crap,” I hissed.
Tash and Camille were silent behind me.
When I turned, they were trying to hide huge grins. “Oh right, it’s funny for you guys. Now he hates me.“
Tash let her grin loose along with a giggle. “Honey, he does not hate you.”
I threw my arms up. “You saw his face! He was furious.”
Camille quirked an eyebrow at Tash. “He was furious-something.”
I swatted at her but couldn’t help my laugh. “Stop it. That doesn’t even make sense.”
She spread her hands wide. “Ah cherie, but nothing ever does where romance is concerned.”
Chapter 8
I studied the bottom of the door and eyed the size of the USB. Would it fit underneath?
I crouched down and tried. It fit.
It was evening, and I was lurking outside Matt's apartment trying to figure out how to give him the USB Andy had asked me to pass on this afternoon without having any contact.