One More Kiss

by Samantha Chase

  That simple statement felt like the greatest compliment in the world. Matt had been revered as a musician, had accepted Grammys and been interviewed by enough reporters—most of whom spent a decent amount of time praising his work and his talents—but knowing Vivienne wanted to put a picture of the steaks he made for her in her personal scrapbook? Yeah, it was better than all his awards combined. And damn if he wasn’t getting choked up.

  Shaking it off, he quickly turned off the flame and put the steaks on the platter. “I, um…I just need to go inside and get the salad and—”

  “I’ll go get it,” Vivienne said, “and I’ll grab the rest of the wine.” She looked around at the table. “What are you drinking?”

  Normally he would have joined her in a glass of wine, but tonight he wanted to be one hundred percent sober. Not that a simple glass of wine would change that, but if the night went the way he was hoping it would, he wanted to know he was in complete control of his senses.

  “Water with lemon, please,” he finally said. “There’s a pitcher in the refrigerator and I sliced some lemon earlier that’s on the shelf beside it. Thanks.”

  Two minutes later, they were seated at the table. Vivienne’s smile was brilliant, and she was practically bouncing in her seat. “Everything looks wonderful, Matt.” She rubbed her hands together excitedly. “Can we start? Is it okay if I just dig in?”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Be my guest,” he said, but then quickly added, “just…please don’t be disappointed if it’s not that good. I mean…I haven’t had a whole lot of practice like you with preparing a meal.”

  She instantly dropped the knife and fork she had just picked up and looked at him. “Seriously? You too?”

  “What? What did I say?”

  She frowned and sunk in her seat and if Matt wasn’t mistaken, she looked…hurt.

  “Viv?”

  “I told you. People don’t like to cook for me or invite me over for a meal because they’re intimidated. But you know what? I don’t compare! I don’t sit down to a meal and critique it or think about how I can make it differently or better or…anything! I just simply enjoy sitting down to a good meal with friends. Do you know how frustrating it is that people automatically assume I’m going to grade them or give them a score on their cooking?”

  “Well, I didn’t say you were going to score it, but—”

  “But nothing,” she said, sitting up straight again. Her expression was fierce. “You listen to me, Matt Reed. I am thrilled you wanted to cook for me. And I wouldn’t care if the steaks were charred and the potatoes undercooked and the salad was wilted. I love that you did this for me.”

  And then, without another word, she picked up her silverware again, cut into her steak, and took her first bite.

  Matt found himself holding his breath. He heard everything she had just said and part of him began to wonder if the steaks were overcooked or the potatoes undercooked, and he was eyeing the salad suspiciously.

  “Holy shit is that good,” she moaned. “Wow.” Her head fell back and her eyes closed as she continued to chew. “There is nothing like a good steak.”

  If the scrapbook comment hadn’t already tugged at his heart, listening to her moan with delight certainly did that—and more.

  * * *

  It was almost midnight and Vivienne could not remember the last time she had laughed so much or had such a good time.

  After they had finished eating dinner, they had cleaned up and then gone back inside Aaron’s, where Matt had shown off his improved piano skills. She had to admit it, she was impressed. It was obvious he was practicing and taking it seriously, and she praised his efforts. It seemed to be the theme of the night—praising him.

  In the years since Vivienne had first started dating, she’d dated her fair share of men. But Matt was definitely the first one who seemed to really hone in on who she was and what would impress her.

  And she was the first to admit she wasn’t easily impressed.

  From the dinner to the conversation and even to the music he had played on the piano, it all just seemed to flow with all of the things she was interested in and enjoyed. She had to give him props—he was clearly very observant.

  They were now sitting on the sofa in the living room, and Matt was telling her about the time the band had been on tour in England and met Princes William and Harry.

  “Seriously? You got to meet them both?”

  Matt nodded. “They were really quite cool. I was expecting them to be a little prim and stuffy, but they were the kind of guys you’d want to hang out with. It was really impressive.”

  “Wow. So…who’s the most famous person you’ve met so far?”

  Raking a hand through his hair, Matt leaned back against the corner of the sectional. “We’ve met pretty much everyone in the music business it seems. Sometimes it’s just a quick greeting and other times it’s at shows or events. I think the princes though are at the top of my list.”

  “Really? So there’s no musician out there that you’re completely starstruck by?”

  “Well, sure. Hell, what musician wouldn’t get a little emotional by meeting Robert Plant or Jimmy Page? Mick Jagger? I mean, I’ve met them all and definitely got a little tongue-tied, but luckily I didn’t make a complete idiot out of myself.”

  “Do you ask for autographs?” she asked teasingly.

  “Hell no,” he laughed. “You can’t do something like that and hold on to your dignity.”

  She waved him off, joining him in his laughter. “Who cares about dignity? I would love to have something signed by one of those guys!”

  He looked at her with disbelief. “Seriously? Page, Plant, and Jagger? Come on, Viv. I picture you being more of a Lady Gaga or Taylor Swift kind of girl.”

  “Hey!” she said with mock outrage and then started laughing again. “Okay, fine. I pretty much have all of Taylor’s songs on my iPod, but I really like classic rock too!”

  With a wink and a halfhearted okay sign, he nodded and reached for his glass of water.

  “It’s true!” she protested.

  “It’s okay, Viv,” he said, his tone playfully mollifying. “I think Taylor Swift is extremely talented, and she’s a very nice young woman.”

  She glared at him. “You’re mocking me.”

  “I bet if I asked you to, you could probably play a couple of her songs on the piano.”

  Dammit. She could, she thought.

  “And I’d also have to say you probably couldn’t play one Zeppelin or Stones song.” He shrugged and finished his drink. “But that’s okay.”

  “All right, mister,” she said, jumping to her feet. “That’s it.” Storming across the room, Vivienne pulled out the piano bench and sat down before taking a deep breath. It wasn’t like her to let herself be challenged into playing music—she’d had enough poking and prodding from her parents while growing up—but right now it was important for her to prove she had an eclectic taste in music.

  Doing a quick stretch of her fingers, she gently placed them on the keys and began to play the Rolling Stones classic “Angie.” Midway through, and without once looking at Matt to see his reaction, she switched over to the Zeppelin classic “All of My Love.” Both were more ballad than hard rock and left her feeling a little uninspired. With very little effort, she segued into a rendition of “Lola” by the Kinks. By this time, she felt like she had made her point but decided she needed a finale.

  She went with Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off.”

  The sound of Matt’s laughter made her smile, and with all the flair she could muster, she ran her hands along the keys from one end of the piano to the other before standing and saying, “Good night, North Carolina!”

  Matt jumped up and gave her a hearty round of applause even as he continued to laugh. “Holy crap, Viv. That was freaking awesome! Brilliant! Inspi
red!”

  She took her bow, walked over to the coffee table, picked up her wineglass, and finished the little bit that was left in it. “Geez, I don’t know how you do that for almost two hours at a shot. I’m exhausted!” She fell back dramatically onto the sofa, sighed, and felt more than heard Matt move closer.

  “Imagine doing that with a hundred hot lights shining on you,” he said softly, gently combing her hair away from her face.

  It felt nice. Soothing. And Vivienne knew if she opened her eyes and looked at him, she’d be completely lost. Why she was still fighting this attraction, she had no idea. It was a lost cause. Every time Matt smiled at her, her heart beat faster. Every time he touched her, her body seemed to go up in flames. It was no longer a matter of if she was going to sleep with Matt but when.

  Funny how that all just came to her right then and there.

  “I couldn’t do it,” she forced herself to say, remembering he had sort of asked a question. “My makeup would melt, my hair would frizz—too much stress.”

  Beside her, he chuckled softly, his hands still caressing her cheek. “And you’d still look beautiful.”

  “Maybe from a distance,” she said, doing her best to keep her eyes closed and not give in to the urge to look at him. Not yet.

  “From any distance,” he said, his voice going lower, gruffer, and it almost made Vivienne shiver. “And every man in the room wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off of you.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to protest, but she liked this game—the pretending. The compliments. All of it. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “A guy in a pair of ripped jeans who takes off his shirt because he’s all sweaty is hot.”

  He chuckled again, and this time Vivienne could feel his breath on her skin. “Same could be said about a woman whipping off her top. I don’t think you’d hear any complaints. Especially if the woman was you and I was in the audience.”

  “Oh,” she said, her voice now almost a whisper. “I couldn’t possibly whip off my shirt for a complete audience.”

  “How about an audience of one?”

  A slow smile played at her lips and she gave up the fight. Her eyes fluttered open and she found Matt to be impossibly close—so close she could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, could almost count his incredibly long lashes. Vivienne swallowed hard.

  This was it.

  There was no going back.

  And she really didn’t want to.

  Slowly, her hand reached up and touched the stubble on Matt’s jaw. She watched as his eyes closed briefly at her caress. Her name came out as a whispered plea.

  There were no more questions and she didn’t feel nervous. All she felt was anticipation.

  “Matt…”

  His eyes opened again and focused on her. Vivienne’s hand raked up into his hair as she carefully guided his head down to hers—not that he had far to go.

  Breaths mingled, and she moistened her lips right before she felt him stop moving. Confusion threatened to overwhelm her and she looked at him questioningly.

  “Be sure, Vivienne,” he said. “No one’s coming through that door to take you away from me this time, and I don’t think I’ll survive it if you walk away from me again.”

  She knew exactly how he felt because there was no way she’d be able to walk away from him again.

  “I’m very sure,” she said, her voice a little bolder than it had been a minute ago. “Matt?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Kiss me.”

  He leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. “Sweetheart, I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter 6

  Matt thought he was ready.

  Had been telling himself just that all damn day.

  But the reality of it? It didn’t even come close.

  Their first kiss two years ago had been fairly wild. Their second kiss had been equally frantic—mainly because it was laced with anger. At least on his end. But this kiss? Hell, Matt couldn’t remember a kiss ever being like this.

  He didn’t pounce; he didn’t plunder. It started out soft—almost chaste. And then? Wow. It was as if he and Vivienne were of one mind as they slowly sank into it. They each moved a little closer, and Matt wrapped her in his embrace, and both her hands now cupped his face. Her skin was so soft, and he knew the stubble on his chin was rough against it, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  Every time he had let himself imagine this moment—the time when Vivienne would be in his arms and want to be there—he had thought he’d instantly scoop her up into his arms and carry her to bed before she had the chance to change her mind. He imagined it being fast and wild, and it was totally in keeping with the way he tended to enjoy things. But as Vivienne’s soft lips moved against his, as her tongue gently swiped across his bottom lip, he knew he would stay right there for as long as possible because it felt that good.

  He couldn’t help but smile as Vivienne shifted and moved over so she could straddle his lap.

  All thoughts of scooping her up and going anywhere vanished. He was pretty content to do whatever it was she wanted right here.

  With his hands stroking up and down her back, Vivienne pressed closer to him, the feel of her luscious curves slowly making him insane. He wanted to feel her skin. He wanted to lay her down so he could touch her everywhere.

  She let out a sexy little moan when his hands came around to cup her breasts, and the only thing Matt could think of was making her make that sound again.

  His lips left hers to travel along her cheek and jaw. Vivienne’s head fell back with a breathy sigh as he nipped and licked the slender column of her throat. She tasted so sweet—everywhere his mouth traveled was like a little taste of heaven, and he wanted more.

  More skin.

  More sounds.

  More everything.

  Vivienne seemed to be on the same page because she was moving again, doing her best to lie down on the sofa with Matt on top of her. It didn’t take long to accomplish, and once she was stretched out underneath him, he groaned at the rightness.

  Slowly, he lifted his head, staring down at her beautiful face that was flushed, her eyes slightly glazed, and smiled. “You feel really good here, Viv,” he murmured.

  Her arms came up around him, and she gave him a sexy grin. “You feel really good yourself.”

  “As much as I’m enjoying this, I’d like to take this to the bedroom—stretch you out on my bed and keep you there all night.” He bent down and gave her another lengthy kiss before lifting his head again. “What do you say?”

  “Only all night?”

  Damn. His smile broadened. “For starters.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to say he wanted to keep her there much, much longer, possibly forever, but it scared the shit out of him. He stood up, held out his hand to her, and then led her out of the room and down the hall. When she stepped into his bedroom, he shut the door and watched, mesmerized, as Vivienne crawled onto the bed and then turned to face him.

  Yeah, forever scared the shit out of him but he was definitely warming up to the idea.

  * * *

  It was still dark when Vivienne woke up. Matt was completely wrapped around her, and it felt glorious. She hated to wake him, but she was thirsty and really needed something to drink. Carefully, she tried to maneuver out of his arms and wasn’t surprised when they tightened around her.

  He was restless, moving around a little as his head tossed to the side and murmuring incoherently. Was he having a nightmare? she wondered. Should she wake him?

  Softly, she whispered his name.

  Matt held her impossibly closer. “Don’t go,” he murmured.

  “I just want to get something to drink,” she said softly, turning to look at him. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she reached out to cup his cheek. “I won’t be gone long.”


  “I’m coming with you,” he said sleepily right before yawning loudly, seemingly anxious to get out of the bed.

  She chuckled. “I think I can make it to the kitchen safely. Stay here where it’s warm and cozy and wonderful.”

  “It won’t be any of those things if you’re not here with me.”

  Well, that was pretty damn sweet, she thought. Beside her, he rolled over and she felt him getting up from the bed.

  “I’m just going to turn on this light and—”

  “No! Don’t!” she cried, but it was too late. The brightness was momentarily blinding and she covered her eyes. “Damn.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  When she looked up, he was pulling on the jeans he had discarded earlier, and then he bent down and grabbed his T-shirt and handed it to her. “Thank you.”

  Matt walked around the bed and reached for her hand and together they went to the kitchen. He handed her a bottle of water and then grabbed one for himself, each drinking deeply before saying anything. In the dim light of the kitchen, his mind raced. This was a fairly new experience for him. For starters, he’d never spent an entire night with a woman and never invited one into his home.

  Technically this was Aaron’s home, but for the time being, it was his.

  Studying Vivienne’s face, he saw uncertainty there and he had to wonder if she was thinking about leaving. Putting his glass down, he walked to her, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her until they were both breathless. When he lifted his head, he met her gaze and said, “Stay.”

  She gave him a small, sexy grin. “I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

  Relief flooded him, a reaction he was beginning to see as a pattern where Vivienne was concerned.

  In previous relationships—and he used that term loosely—he had been the one in control, the confident one. But he was finding that now, with Vivienne, she ultimately was the one calling the shots. Matt wouldn’t push her; he wouldn’t rush her. He’d let her set the pace for where they went from here.