A Moment of Truth: A Complete Bonus Set (A Matter of Trust #1-2)

by Q. T. Ruby

“Yeah?” he says, holding up a shirt to his nose and breathing in.

  “First, why is your bathroom completely clean when the rest of your house is a disaster and, second, what are you doing?”

  He stops sniffing the shirt and chuckles. “Yeah, the bathroom is the only thing the cleaning lady can still do. I stopped picking stuff up off the floor and whatnot before she’d come, so the bathroom was the only thing she could really clean. Told her not to worry about anything else.” He tosses the shirt in his hand onto one of two hills on the couch. “And I’m trying to sort the clean from the dirty so we can sit.” He picks up another shirt, sniffs it, and tosses it onto a pile.

  “Is that the clean pile or the dirty one?”

  “That one is clean, that one is dirty,” he says, pointing.

  “Would you like me to fold the clean ones?” I ask, grinning.

  He stops and smiles. “If you want to.”

  I fold while I watch him continue to sniff and pile. “So you’re all done with filming then?” I ask, folding a shirt.

  “Yeah, today was our last day, barring any reshoots. I think it turned out well enough, though.” Sniff. Toss.

  “That’s good. Do you start the next one soon? You have a next one, right?” I ask, folding a sweatshirt.

  “Yes, I do have another one, thankfully. The next one films in Mexico, but I have about three weeks off before I have to be there,” he says, sniffing one shirt again and again, trying to decide its fate.

  “Three weeks? Nice. Are you going home to London?” I ask as he tosses the shirt onto the dirty pile.

  He smiles. “I don’t have any plans, actually. When are you supposed to leave?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon,” I mutter.

  “Oh.”

  We’re silent for a moment, and then we start talking at the same time again.

  “I don’t have to—”

  “You don’t have to—”

  We laugh.

  “You go,” I say, smiling and holding the next shirt to fold.

  “You don’t have to leave tomorrow if you don’t want to. I have three weeks off, and I’d love to spend more time with you.”

  “Well, considering I just got paid a king’s ransom for one song, and I don’t have any sort of job to rush back to, I think I can manage to stay longer.”

  He nods and beams—and I mean beams. He knows it, too, and tries to hide it by sniffing the next shirt extra hard.

  For a few quiet moments, I stand there watching my sweet boyfriend and realize that my heart has already fallen, tumbled over and under, up and around, deeper and deeper and deeper into . . . I’m not holding back anymore.

  “Dan?”

  His eyes meet mine after he grabs another shirt. “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  He drops the shirt and then catches it against his legs as his face turns beet red. “What?” he mumbles, his mouth dangling open.

  “I’ve fallen in love you.”

  He’s about to speak when the buzzer for the outside gate sounds at the door. He remains speechless and frozen.

  “I’ll get that,” I say, smiling. I walk over to press the gate button for the Chinese food delivery. When I spin back to face him, he’s right there. I almost knock into his chest.

  He says nothing, simply cups my face with both hands and kisses me. His mouth presses harder to mine as the moments tick past.

  The door opens and startles us both. We quickly step apart.

  “Claire?”

  “Oh, hi, Colin,” I say, smiling and blushing.

  “Bloody brilliant! Dan can stop getting pissed and punching me now!” Colin grabs me into a tight hug and then swings me around. I can’t help but laugh.

  “Would you put her down, you arse? You’re going to hurt her,” Dan scolds, grabbing Colin’s arm.

  Colin puts me down. “I’m not going to hurt her, you plonker. I’m just happy to see her. Now you can stop being a prick. You are back, right, Claire? Tell me you’re back.”

  I grin. “Yes, I’m back, Colin. What’s this about Dan punching you?”

  Colin slings his arm around my shoulders and leads us to the spot on the sofa Dan and I cleared. We sit while Dan stands watching us, his arms crossed.

  “Oh, Claire. If you only knew the hell I endured while you were gone. He wouldn’t even let me watch Grease.”

  I hold back a laugh and glance up at Dan’s sour face. I turn my attention back to Colin. “Why wouldn’t he let you watch Grease?”

  “I don’t know. He knows it’s my favorite movie, but I guess when you spend half of your day pissed, it’s easy to get irritable.”

  “You were drunk a lot?” I didn’t expect that one.

  Dan doesn’t answer, but his jaw tightens.

  The door buzzer sounds again.

  “You guys having a party you didn’t invite me to?” Colin asks.

  “Yeah, a party for two,” Dan says as he heads to the door.

  “We just ordered some dinner,” I say. “Do you want to stay?”

  “No, he does not want to stay!” Dan shouts from the door.

  “I’d love to stay, thanks,” Colin says with a huge, smug smile. He leans back on the sofa, stretching his arms out.

  Dan comes back in the living room with the bag of Chinese food. “You are not staying.”

  “Why not? Claire said I could.” Colin walks into the kitchen.

  Dan huffs. “Fine. But no eating all the spring rolls like you did last time, and you are not sleeping here tonight.” Dan unloads the food from the bag onto the coffee table we cleaned off.

  Colin returns from the kitchen with some paper plates and plastic utensils. “I’ve been staying here since Kyle left, so now where am I going to sleep?”

  “Sleep at Adam’s house.”

  “I barely know Adam. He just joined the band, and you want me to crash at his house?”

  “Yeah. You two can bond,” Dan says, handing me a plate of food and a fork.

  “Fine,” Colin agrees reluctantly, grabbing a plate and loading it up.

  “How is your band, Colin?” I ask, curling up next to Dan with my plate resting on my lap.

  Colin makes himself at home on the recliner and drags the coffee table up to his knees. He leans forward and prepares to shovel. “It’s good. We’ve just been signed, and we’ll record some stuff soon, maybe open for The Footfalls this summer.”

  “Oh wow, that’s great! Congratulations! So, Adam is new?”

  “Yeah,” Colin says, between chews. “Kyle left so Adam came on board to play drums.”

  “Very cool.”

  “How about you? Camille said you were a librarian?” Colin asks.

  Dan starts coughing and choking, so I slap his back a few times. With a red face, he chokes out, “You were a librarian?” He shoots Colin a death glare. “And you knew?”

  Colin bursts out laughing.

  “What?” I’m very confused.

  Colin turns to Dan. “Mate, if I told you that she was a librarian, you would have exploded.” Colin turns to me. “He has a thing for librarians . . . and Wonder Woman.”

  I giggle, glancing at Dan. “Really?”

  Dan shifts his food around his plate and huffs.

  “Good to know.” I take a bite of my lo mein.

  “Are you going back to work at the library when you get home?” Colin asks.

  “No, my last day was Friday. I don’t have a job, actually.” I snort at the scariness of that.

  “What about the teaching thing?” Colin asks before eating half a spring roll in one bite.

  “It’s not for me anymore. Actually, it was never my thing, per se. It was a good job, but honestly, my heart is in music, so I’m hopin
g to do something with that. I guess we’ll see.”

  “Well, seems the music plan worked, eh, Dan?” Colin winks at Dan, grinning.

  “You make it sound like it was some sort of scheme. It wasn’t, Claire. It all sort of happened accidentally.”

  “That’s because you had her songs playing on a loop.” Colin chuckles and chomps on the other half of the spring roll.

  “That’s why the director wanted to know what I was listening to, you arse.”

  “You didn’t pass out my music on purpose?” I ask.

  “No. The director visited my trailer to talk with me, and I had your song playing. He asked about it, but I never told him you were—”

  “The one that I want,” Colin sings, Grease style.

  “Sod off with the Grease, Colin. But no, I didn’t say you were my girlfriend. I gave him your name and number, but that was it.”

  Colin cuts in, saying, “Dan didn’t think you’d go for it. He knew they were going to phone you, but then Camille called to say you got the teaching job—that’s when Dan, well, let’s just say that it was a pretty rough night.”

  My heart drops. “A rough night?” Oh God, what does that mean? “I’m sorry, Dan.” It’s all I can think to say as waves of guilt crash over me. Even though my time alone afforded me insights into my life, the fact that I hurt him kills me. Tears fill my eyes, so I keep my gaze trained on my fork, counting tines.

  “You okay?” Dan leans over, trying to look into my downcast eyes. “Why don’t you put Grease on, Colin?”

  “Fucking serious? Yeah!” Colin says. From the corner of my eye I see Colin’s feet nearly sprint to the DVD player.

  “Get the lights, too?” Dan asks Colin. Colin shuts down the lights as the movie begins.

  I breathe slowly, gaining control over my emotions, when Dan’s hand slides across my back, drawing light circles. A few moments later, he reaches for my plate and places it next to his on the coffee table. He scoots closer, puts his arm around me, and tucks me into his side.

  I peek up at the television to distract myself with the movie. The back of Dan’s knuckles stroke up and down my arm as he presses a kiss to the top of my head, whispering, “It’s okay.”

  I stay in the nook of his arm, my body tense against his side. Soap . . . shaving cream . . . Eventually, between Colin quietly singing along to the songs and Dan’s gentle touches, my body relaxes—from my neck to my shoulders to my waist to my toes.

  * * *

  “Dan,” I call as covertly as I can, spotting the glamorous yet creepy woman nearby.

  “Dan?” I say again, but he still doesn’t hear me. I sneak closer to him, and that’s when he turns to the magnificent beast and says, “I love you, Sophie.” He wraps his arms around her waist, grinding his hips into hers. Their kiss lasts days. Her eyes open and shift to mine.

  She breaks their kiss and nods at me. A smug, evil smile crawls across her flawless face. “What about her, Dan?”

  Dan turns my way but looks right past me.

  “Who?”

  She cackles. “Never mind, Dan,” she hisses as she begins unbuttoning his shirt.

  “No!”

  I shoot up. My heart slams in my chest. I rub my eyes, confused. It’s so dark. “Why can’t Dan see me? Where is she?”

  Something touches my arm. “Claire?”

  “Ahh!” I jump back.

  “Claire, it’s okay, it’s me . . . I can see you. Where is who?”

  I hear a click and then the bedside lamp turns on. I shield my eyes; it’s too bright.

  “You’re crying,” Dan says gently, sitting up and squinting. “It was just a nightmare.”

  I’m breathing hard as realization seeps into my sleepy mind. “I’m in your bed . . . how did I get here?”

  “You fell asleep on the sofa. You were sleeping so soundly, so I carried you in here. Was that okay?” he asks, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

  “You carried me?”

  He nods.

  “And you’re here with me?”

  “Of course,” he says, stroking my head, my hair.

  I inhale a strong, cleansing breath. “I dreamt that you were with . . . her.” I wipe my eyes again, realizing that I’m still wearing the clothes from earlier in the day—his shirt and my jeans.

  “With who?”

  “Sophie.” Just saying her name stabs me with the aching loneliness from my dream.

  “I’m with you, Claire. It was just a bad dream,” he says, stroking my head, calming me.

  “But it was so real. You couldn’t see me, and she was all over you, kissing you, and then she began undressing you . . . God, it felt so real. You said you loved her.” My body tenses. Just the thought hurts. He takes my hands, presses my palms together, sandwiching them between his.

  “No.” He shakes his head and pauses, gently holding my eyes with his warm, green gaze. “Claire . . . there’s been so much I’ve wanted to say, so much I’ve wanted to tell you.” He pauses again, taking in every inch of my face. “I love you, Claire. I’ve loved you for a long while now.”

  I gasp as he kisses me once . . . twice, cupping my face in his hands. He pulls back an inch. I could burst. Is this real?

  “I fell in love with sweaty, claustrophobic you in that lift all those months ago.” He smiles, stroking my cheek.

  Tears pool in my eyes as I watch his lips, utterly spellbound.

  “Totally and completely . . . and while we were apart, I realized that’s what I’d been feeling—it’s love, Claire. I’ve always loved you,” he whispers against my mouth, kissing away the tears that linger on my face.

  He leans back a little, glancing down at the buttons of his shirt that I’m wearing. With tentative fingers, he begins to unbutton them. He brushes his lips against mine, murmuring, “I love you.”

  My heart leaps and dances and twirls in my chest.

  “I . . . want to show you,” he whispers, kissing the corner of my mouth. “Trust me?”

  My eyes flash to his burning gaze. “Yes.” My blood heats and surges to every right spot. Unable to break away from his spellbinding eyes, I find the edge of his T-shirt and lift it as he raises his arms. I drop the shirt to the floor.

  I run my fingers down the sculpted muscles of his torso hesitantly, afraid he might dissolve into a dream . . . but he doesn’t. His abs flex with each shallow breath.

  He reaches for my buttons again, slowly popping the last of them through their openings. His hands skim from the center of my collarbones to my shoulders, easing the shirt down my arms. He gathers it and drops it on the floor.

  His fingers ghost across the neckline of my tank top while his lips brush along my neck and over to my left shoulder, showering it with tiny kisses. Kiss after slow kiss, he makes his way across my chest to my right shoulder, lavishing that one with an equal amount of affection. The fire that’s been smoldering low inside of me ignites.

  Traveling up along my neck, he gifts my skin with warm, suckling kisses that cause chills to erupt down my arms and legs.

  My heart thumps furiously. I can no longer breathe through my nose—only through my mouth; my chest rises and falls in time with each of his suckles.

  Against my neck, he whispers, “I wanted to tell you that I loved you.” Suckle . . . kiss. “I was afraid I’d never be able to tell you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

  He angles my head to meet his eyes. “It doesn’t matter anymore, my love. You’re here, I’m here.” He pauses, his gaze intensifying as he quietly asks, “Let me love all of you?”

  My breathing falters.

  His eyes fixed on mine, he reaches slowly for the hem of my tank top and lifts it over my head, breaking our kiss only long enough to let the fabric pass. He qui
ckly unhooks and discards my bra.

  He hugs my topless chest against his, kissing me deeply. His skin is so warm, his muscles hard yet soft. He sits back, and biting his lip, he traces my silhouette from the tips of my shoulders, down the sides of my breasts to my waist. He drags his eyes up to meet mine. It seems like he has something to say, but he doesn’t speak—he just breathes hard as his fingers slide their way up my belly and come to a stop at my breasts.

  “I . . . I . . .” he begins as his wide eyes and soft hands rest on my breasts. Kneading gently, swirling his thumbs over my nipples, he whispers, “I’ve thought about this the whole time . . . you—your body—all of you. I need . . .” He bends forward, closing his mouth around one nipple while loving the other one with his hand.

  My head falls back. I’m utterly lost to the moment, to the night, to this most perfect man. High on his love, I can’t get his body close enough. Every inch of me aches for him and everything in me speaks his name in unison.

  Dan.

  And yet, even while he’s torching me with kisses so gentle, touches so sensuous, it’s the place between my thighs that calls out to him the loudest. As if he can read my mind, he carefully lays me back on the bed. After one sweet kiss on my lips, he leaves me with a smirk as he scoots down an inch to press a kiss under my chin . . . then another inch to kiss my collarbone and two kisses to my sternum. I watch him nip his way to my breasts. Taking the peak of one breast into the heat of his mouth, he sucks gently and then blows cool air against my nipple, which stands at his full attention.

  “I need . . .” he murmurs against my heaving chest, continuing to lavish my breasts with his tender, loving care. He slides lower, kissing down my belly and dragging his hands along for the ride. When he reaches the waistband of my jeans, he sits up on his elbows and gazes at me. He pops open the button of my jeans.

  “I love you, Claire.” He kisses and nibbles at my belly. “And I need all of you.” Flashing his dazzling eyes at me, he tugs on my pants as if asking for permission.

  With hard, laborious breaths, I can barely utter the yes that’s stuck on the tip of my tongue.