The Complete Novels of the Lear Sister Trilogy

by Julia London

  “Oh!” She stared helplessly at the fan above her head. “Matt, sometimes I think you are about the smartest man I have ever met, and then you’ll come out with some boneheaded comment like that.”

  “What’d I say?”

  “The beautiful thing. Okay, so I won a beauty pageant way back there, but I’m not the same woman I was then, and I am really not so beautiful! I don’t get fawning all the time, in fact, I never get fawning. In case you haven’t noticed, Grayson and I aren’t exactly whirling around with busy social calendars.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “That I can’t have flings. I have Grayson, and I have . . . this is going to sound stupid, but I have standards—”

  “Like I don’t?”

  “You’re the one with the shirts,” she said, nodding at his polo.

  He nodded thoughtfully, studying her face. “I also told you I love you,” he said. “I really must have lost my mind, because I am sitting here, in the middle of a ridiculous conversation with you, like it means something, but every time I come near you, you freeze up like an ice cube! Why do I waste my breath? Why do I splay my heart open for you?”

  Rebecca stood up. She thought of a billion retorts. So many that she couldn’t manage to get even one out, and suddenly walked away from the little table and down the steps to the lawn, to where, she had no idea.

  Matt was right behind her. “Uh-uh, no way—I’m not going to let you swim away this time,” he said. “Stand and declare!”

  “Okay, how’s this? I’m very upset to learn that I’m the moron in this equation!”

  “At least you’re the gorgeous one—”

  She stopped, whirled around to face him. “Do you think,” she asked, stabbing him in the chest with the tip of her finger with each word, “that because I haven’t jumped right into your bed then I must be frigid? Is that what you are trying to say?”

  “No!” he said, grabbing her hand. “I mean you are scared stiff. Literally.”

  Rebecca sucked in a breath to tell him that was a lie, but thought the better of it (since it was true), and closed her mouth. They stood there under the moonlight, staring at each other, and all Rebecca could hear was the river running just a few yards away, running slowly, running away, just like she’d been doing from the moment she’d met Matt. “You would be, too,” she admitted, and laid her forehead against his chest.

  Matt put his arm around her. “Isn’t it obvious that I adore you?” he asked. “Four Seasons debacle notwithstanding, of course. Do you know the last time I told a woman I loved her?”

  “No.”

  “I was seven.”

  Rebecca laughed into his chest.

  “And look at it—I came all the way out here to grovel at your feet for having made an ass of myself. And I stood there and let you throw stuff at me, and then I pretty much admitted I’ve got a thang for ya, baby. I was just sort of hoping you had one for me, too.”

  Rebecca laughed again, then lifted her gaze to Matt. “I do. I guess it’s really hard to explain.”

  Matt put a hand to her face, cupping her chin. “Try me,” he said, and he looked like he meant it. Try me. Try anything.

  “Okay. For starters, I’ve never really been with . . . I mean, I’ve only been with one—”

  “Oh, I get it,” Matt said, nodding, and started to sway softly with her under the moonlight. “So you’re not quite over him, is that it?”

  That was so preposterous that Rebecca snorted loudly through her nose. “Oh my God, I’m going to have to get a blackboard and chart this out for you. No, Matt,” she said, and with a loud sigh, lifted her gaze to the stars. “I was over him years ago and I’ve never been sorry that it’s over. What I’ve been sorry for is that he left me without any emotion at all. Just up and announced he was leaving one day, like he was going to the store, like ending ten years of marriage was no more than stepping out for a six-pack. And even though I had stopped loving him eons before that, I couldn’t understand how two people could have passed so much of their lives together and there be no emotion at all. Just nothing. Unless . . .” Unless she was nothing, she wasn’t worth it.

  Matt didn’t say anything.

  Rebecca’s gaze blurred; she blinked. “And now,” she said, smiling nervously, “I’ve met you, and I think you’re pretty darn wonderful in spite of all the evidence to the contrary—”

  “Careful—”

  “—and I guess I’m more afraid than I realized.”

  “Not of me, I hope.”

  “Of not being worth the effort.” And having voiced her fear aloud, she turned her face into his shoulder, ashamed.

  “Ah, baby,” Matt said, and wrapped both arms around her, rested his chin atop her head, and together they swayed in the cool night breeze, neither speaking for a long moment.

  “That’s not something you’d ever have to worry about with me, you know,” he said quietly. “If you think about it, it’s been pretty emotional between us from the beginning, wouldn’t you say?”

  Rebecca laughed into his shirt. “Definitely.”

  “I think this could be all you could ever want, Rebecca. But you might have to let the facade crumble away and just be who you are.”

  “I am.”

  Matt instantly shook his head. “Nope. The only time I have seen the real Rebecca was when you were drunk. And all it takes is one look at this house to know the level of hiding going on.”

  “What hiding?”

  “Please, like you don’t know what I’m talking about, you self-help guru,” he said with a chuckle. “Let me put it this way—I’ve never known another living soul to alphabetize their canned goods.”

  “There is that,” she sighed. “Did you notice the color coding, too?”

  Matt laughed. “I think somewhere in that perfect house and in this perfect body is you, who is not so perfect, just dying to get out and breathe.”

  Astounded by his insight, Rebecca lifted her head and blinked up at him. “That’s so true!” she admitted woefully. “But I don’t know how. I’ve tried everything.”

  “Not everything,” he said, and pulled away from her so that he could see into her eyes. “Not. Everything,” he muttered again, his eyes all but smoldering in the pale moonlight. “Let me help you, Rebecca,” he murmured as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead. “We’ll peel some of those layers away and see what lies beneath.” He leaned down so that his lips brushed against her ear. “I’ve seen you come, you know . . . and I think you can do better.”

  Just knock her over with a feather now, because she thought she could, too, and if he kept it up, she might do it right there. But Matt’s hand was sliding down her bare arm, to her breast. Rebecca slowly drew her breath. “You know you can do better,” he whispered. “Say it. Say, I want to come . . . better.”

  The ground felt like it was shifting beneath her; a damp fog had swept into her head, and she was a slave to his touch. “I . . . I want to come harder,” she whispered. “Matt.”

  He made a guttural sound deep in his throat, and in that dangerous fog, Matt took her hand, started for the house. Rebecca’s heart was pounding. He mounted the porch steps in twos, walked right through the mess of dogs in the kitchen and down the long hallway to her room. Once there, he easily pushed her into the middle of the room, then shut the door and turned around, pressing his back against it and smiling devilishly. The bathroom light was still on; it was just enough light that she could see the hard glint in his eyes as his gaze casually roamed her figure.

  “I’m going to help you really let go, if you think you can handle it.”

  Could she? She felt light-headed, almost dizzy. His way with words was intoxicating, and when she nodded, her head felt loose on her shoulders.

  Matt smiled. “Then take off your shoes.”

  That was not exactly what she had expected. Rebecca looked down at her sandals and kicked them off her feet, across the room.

  “Now let your hair dow
n.”

  She thought about making a quip, but obediently pulled the band from her hair, letting it fall in silky waves to cover her shoulders.

  The smile on Matt’s lips faded; he just looked at her, taking her in, then said, “I want you to light some candles and place them on the nightstands. Then turn off that light.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said with a playful salute, then padded over to her dresser, lit several candles, and moved them to the nightstand on either side of her bed. When she had turned off the bathroom light and returned to the middle of the room, Matt put a finger to his lips. “Don’t talk,” he said softly.

  Rebecca smiled, mimicked zipping her lips, locking them, and tossing away the key.

  Matt slowly pushed away from the door, his arms still folded, and walked toward her. “Are you wearing panties?”

  “Of course!”

  He quickly pressed a finger to her lips and shook his head. “Take them off.”

  She lifted a brow; Matt nodded. With a little laugh, Rebecca managed to push her panties down to mid thigh without actually lifting her dress, then very delicately reached under her hem and pulled them down. As she moved to toss them aside, Matt caught her hand and took them from her.

  “Now your bra.”

  “Ah—”

  “No talking, Rebecca—you said you could handle it, didn’t you?”

  She nodded.

  He smiled approvingly. “Take off your bra.”

  Her skin felt warm with anticipation; a little shaky, she reached behind her, fumbled over the fabric of her dress with the clasp of her bra for a few seconds while Matt gazed at her breasts, then slipped her arm out of one strap, and the other, and let her bra fall to the floor beneath her dress.

  “Good,” he said. With his gaze on hers, he lifted his hand and let his fingers dance across her nipple, tweaking it beneath the fabric of her dress. “Go ahead,” he said low, watching her closely. “Take off your dress.”

  “My dress?” she asked, awakening from her pleasurable fog.

  “Your dress. Are you afraid to expose yourself? To let me see you?” he asked as he lifted his hand, traced a soft line from one ear, across her jaw, to the other ear. “Aren’t you just the least bit curious to know what she looks like?”

  “Who?”

  “The real Rebecca,” he said. “Don’t you want to know who I see when she will let me? How she appears to me?”

  Rebecca pressed down the strange urge to hit him. Damn him. Damn him! How could he know so much about her that she didn’t even know about herself? Yes, she wanted to know what she looked like to him, if he found her attractive, if he found her sexy, if he felt that goddamn fire racing through his veins. She wanted him to see her with his naked body, wanted to feel him, on her, in her, around her. Just thinking about it had made her wet; desire throbbed between her legs.

  “Are you going to retreat into your fear?”

  No, goddammit! “To hell with you,” she said, and grabbing the hem, she lifted the summer dress over her head, tossed it aside, and stood there before him, naked as a jaybird. Starkly naked.

  To her surprise, Matt did not act the least bit smug. In fact, he dropped her panties along with his jaw. And his breathing, she noticed, was getting heavier, like hers. That was empowering, and she unthinkingly stood a little straighter.

  Matt drew a long, ragged breath. “Turn around.”

  Rebecca turned slowly, until she was facing him again. His expression was hard; he swallowed, muttered, “Touch them.” Rebecca hesitated; he lifted his gaze to her eyes. “If you can’t even touch yourself, how will you feel good about me touching you?”

  Self-conscious, but wanting this strangely erotic experience, Rebecca put her hands on her breasts, and the moment she saw the light in Matt’s eye, her self-consciousness slipped away. She gripped herself firmly, squeezing the stiffened nipples between her fingers.

  Matt swallowed again. “What are you thinking?”

  “That I like the way you are looking at me.”

  “And I definitely like looking,” he growled, and pulled the polo shirt over his head. He stood before her, admiring her naked body, and remarkably, Rebecca didn’t feel ashamed. She felt alive. Without thinking, she reached out and touched his chest, felt the heat of his skin beneath her finger, heard him draw a ragged breath that sent a flame of pleasure licking her groin. She liked this.

  Matt stepped closer, but didn’t touch her in return, just leaned in so that his lips grazed her temple, and whispered, “Lie down.”

  Rebecca slowly backed away from him, bumped into her bed. This was so different than anything she had ever experienced. Her senses were vibrant, wanting more, wanting it all. She sat on the edge of the bed and slowly leaned back until she was lying on it.

  Matt walked over to the bed. He stood a moment, gazing down at her . . . and shook his head. “Not like that,” he softly chided her, touching her knee. “Lie back like a woman who wants a man to make love to her.”

  Yes, yes . . . She scooted up until her head was on the pillows. She draped one arm above her head, let the other one fall open at her side, bent one knee over the other. “Yes,” he breathed. “Now close your eyes.”

  Oooh, this was going to be good. Rebecca closed her eyes, heard Matt moving, heard the drawers of her bureau being opened. “Ah,” he said, and she heard the drawer shut again, then a moment later, felt Matt’s weight on the bed, then the silk of something across her eyes as he lifted her head. “A scarf,” he said as he tied it behind her head. “Don’t take it off, don’t move. I don’t want you to see anything. Just feel. I’ll be right back.”

  “Wait!” she said anxiously.

  “Rebecca,” he whispered, his hand touching her cheek and floating to her neck. “I adore you, remember? I promise you are safe. Trust me,” he murmured soothingly, stroking her arm. “And think about what you want me to do to you while I’m gone,” he said as his fingers skimmed down her belly to the apex of her thighs.

  And then he was gone.

  Rebecca lay there, her eyes closed and wrapped in one of her scarves, listening to the trees rustling outside, thinking, as Matt had instructed, of what she wanted him to do to her. Delicious things she had always wondered about, imagined occasionally, but never dreamed she’d actually experience until now.

  Just as quickly as he disappeared, Matt was back; she heard him enter the room, heard the door close softly behind him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, and jumped, gasping softly at the feel of his hand on her face.

  “Ssssh,” he said. “Just lie back and enjoy.”

  How could she not? She had been stripped clean of all her clothes, was lying, bare-ass, on the top of her bed. There was nothing left to hide, nothing left to do but let him have his way with her. The words sounded terribly decadent in her head, but they felt exhilarating, and she could actually feel her body quivering with anticipation.

  She didn’t have to wait long. The first flush of cold was on her lips and startled her so badly that she almost choked on it. But it slid off the side of her mouth, to her neck. And then it was again on her lips, and Rebecca opened her mouth, let it slide in, and smiled, spreading her arms wide on the bed. “Rocky road,” she said. “My favorite.”

  Matt chuckled above her; and then his lips were on hers, sucking them clean of the ice cream. She waited for the next sweet assault; felt the cool river of it on her chest, followed by Matt’s mouth and tongue, slowly licking up the rivulets that ran off either side of her, beneath her breasts. When his lips closed around her nipple, Rebecca involuntarily arched into him with a jolt; the resulting tremor reached all the way down to her sex.

  He was gone again, and in the next moment, she felt another drizzle of ice cream from her breastbone to her belly button, followed by his tongue, lapping it up, following the trail and dipping into her navel as Rebecca lay there, panting, using her hands to search for him in the dark. She found his chest, his shoulders, trailed her hands down his
body, gasping a little when she felt his naked hip.

  “Don’t stop, let yourself go,” he said, and Rebecca reached around to the patch of wiry hair and his thick erection. Matt moved so that he was beside her, his mouth still on her belly somehow, nipping her, licking up the ice cream, sending another drizzle of delicious cold to simmer in the heat between her legs. Rebecca squealed with the sensation, squeezing him in her hand. His smooth skin felt like silk over marble; she could feel his erection pulsating in her hand, could feel the pearl of moisture at the very tip. And as Matt’s tongue dipped between her legs, sucking up the ice cream and sending her into another surreal orbit, Rebecca lifted off the bed, groped in the darkness for his face.

  “Let me,” she said, gasping for air. “Let me try. Give me the ice cream.”

  Matt made a sound that was something like a groan and a laugh, but he took her hand, dipped her fingers into the ice cream canister.

  Still blindfolded, Rebecca came up on her knees, scooped a little of it out, and reached into the dark, until she found him. Uncertain as to what part of his body she managed to hit, she leaned forward, ran her tongue along the creamed skin, delighting in the decadence of it, feeling the hard nub of his nipple on her tongue. She laughed, found the container, took more, slowly rubbed it on his body, smiling broadly when she heard Matt groan and felt him fall onto his back.

  Something snapped in her then; she could feel the sticky sweetness everywhere, and wasn’t certain if it was all ice cream or the swell of her own outrageous desire mixing with it, too. She groped about, her hand fluttering until it found the container, and she scooped more of the melting ice cream, rubbing it into her mouth, then more, which she rubbed on Matt, on his torso, his hips, his penis. She reached forward, her tongue seeking him, finding his erection, drawing it into her mouth and sucking the cream from his skin.

  Matt was moving beneath her, restraining himself, she thought. She could feel him hardening in her mouth, could feel his testicles burgeoning in her hand, could taste cream and salt and his body.