She cried out when his hands abruptly left her, the feeling of barrenness absolutely killing her. “No, Matthew. Please.” She arched up into him, begging him with her body to return his touch to her needy flesh.
“What you do to me. My control. . .”
His chin rubbed against her throat, deep words vibrated over her skin. His hands came back then, heavy on her shoulders. Fingers crept up to encircle her throat. “My control,” he growled. “You strip me bare.”
His grip tightened around her throat, captured her startled cry inside his hands.
No! Stop! Allie wanted to plead. But his hands only tightened even more.
Tears sprang to her eyes, her legs tried to thrash against his unmovable body. Her fingers clawed at his deadly grip—but all to no avail.
She felt the crack of cartilage just before her screams pierced through her dreams and she was blessedly released back into consciousness.
“Allie!” Lainie was sitting beside her in bed, shaking her by the shoulders.
Lainie recoiled when Allie shot up to a sitting position; a sheen of sweat clinging to her brow and upper lip. She blinked in confusion, trying to separate dream from reality.
“Are you okay?” Lainie’s face was pinched with worry. Her hair was a wild, brown mane around her face. “You were having a nightmare. Screaming. Scared the hell out of me!”
Allie prodded her throat with shaking hands, half-expecting to find the flesh there tender and swollen.
“It was a dream,” she murmured in grateful disbelief.
Her fingers combed through locks of hair that had fallen over her face, pushed them behind her ears. Her eyes darted through the dark bedroom, her vision trying to penetrate each thick shadow, to expel Matthew’s ghost from its hidden depths.
Lainie’s arms wrapped around her. “S’okay, Allie. It was just a bad dream.”
The memory of Matthew’s blazing, green gaze pierced her still. That look, so calm and contained, coupled by his crushing grip around her throat.
Allie anchored herself to Lainie’s embrace, adrenaline and residual fear trembling through her limbs.
“Just a dream,” she whispered.
***
The next few days passed slowly, without any more dreams of Matthew.
Allie focused on school by day, and work by evening, before she succumbed to an exhausting onslaught of restless nights.
Though, no longer in dream form, Matthew continued to haunt her thoughts, however. She couldn’t deny the elicit fear he’d drawn out from her. His hands had been committed to her memory perfectly. Those hands, beautifully created with long, curving fingers that had the capability of producing such pleasure, were also scarred and battered from delivering death to who-knew how many people.
He’d wanted her to be frightened of him.
Well, she supposed he’d succeeded.
To an extent, anyway. Perhaps she was stupid, allowing herself to want him so much—to ache each night for the return of his deadly touch upon her skin. But, the hunger he’d ignited in her that night against her car could not be doused, no matter how her subconscious tried to warn her. It had only been stoked brighter each day and night by this clawing desperation to see him again. She craved him like a drug—to hell with the cost.
Needing to sort through her confusion, she decided to make a trip to see her mom.
***
The Silverado Senior Living Center was roughly forty minutes from where Allie lived. She hated living so far, felt guilty she couldn’t visit more often—only making the trip down on Sundays when she didn’t have to work or go to class.
The SSLC building had been renovated from an Urgent Care facility, while the section in back had been added later to accommodate the new Alzheimer’s wing. It was easy to see where the old met the new; the grey stucco in the back was a few shades lighter than the front.
Allie signed in at the front and then walked back to another desk, where a nurse sat as sentinel.
“Hey, Sybil.” Allie smiled. “How’s it been around here this week?”
Sybil was the check in/security nurse for the Alzheimer’s unit. It was her job to make sure only approved family and friends came to see the patients, as well as ensure that none of the residents wandered off. She was in her early fifties, her narrow face sprouting the tightly-permed, bleach-blonde hair of a poodle. She was thin and bony with the skin and rasp of a chain smoker, wearing light blue scrubs with clouds and rainbows splattered here and there. Allie loved the gossip Sybil dished every time she saw her.
Sybil returned her smile. “Mr. Shanks has been in the women’s rooms, raiding panties again, the dirty old bird.” She shook her head and laughed. “Had to pry him off Mrs. Jakowski yesterday. The two were canoodeling—very loudly.”
Oh, boy. Mr. Shanks, the unit’s pervert, was eighty-six, with slumping shoulders, a wrinkly, bald head, thick glasses, and a pointy little nose that was always turned in the direction of his new lady.
Kind of reminded Allie of a hedgehog.
He had a new girlfriend every month. Funny what could happen when your inhibitions went out the door.
“Pretty exciting then, huh?” Allie grinned.
Sybil coughed, eyes watering as she leaned into the desk. “Always is, darlin’.”
Allie signed her name on the visitor’s log and waved a see-ya-later as Sybil buzzed her through the security doors. The Alzheimer’s wing was less about comfort, and much more about functionality. Its walls were hospital boring, dotted here and there with mass-market watercolors and lined with oak railings. Light beige ceilings on top, and green, commercial-grade carpeting on the bottom. The area was free from tables or anything else that could catch a passing wheelchair or walker.
The dog lady, Connie, passed Allie coming down the hall. Connie’s golden retriever, Betsy, ambled beside her. Allie stopped to scratch the dog’s floppy ears and say hello to Connie before moving on down the hallway.
She peeked into the activity/dining room and immediately spotted her mom in a corner where she was folding a pile of towels. The nurses left things like that around for the residents. Helped to sooth their compulsion to keep their hands busy.
Allie’s mom, Mary, was still beautiful despite the card God had played her. She was tall and thin, with a knock-out body, grown thinner over the past few months, her hair the same chestnut brown as Allie’s. Mary sat, regal as ever on a green, floral couch tucked beneath a window. The afternoon light filtered in through a set of sheer drapes, warming the sterile atmosphere of the room and painting red highlights over Mary’s head.
“Hey, mom.” Allie smiled as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her mom’s ear. Mary turned cloudy, brown eyes up to her and a lump rose to Allie’s throat. Mary’s eyes were the only thing that gave away the sickness that was slowly ravaging her mind. She met Allie with the mild friendliness you’d use to greet a stranger and Allie’s heart gave a painful tug. Mary didn’t talk much anymore, so Allie wasn’t surprised when she didn’t respond.
She sat beside her mom and pulled her hand into her lap. “You look good today, mom. The nurses did your hair. It’s pretty.” Even though her mom couldn’t offer any advice, Allie felt calmed just being in her presence. There was something about a mom’s juju that could sooth away the worries with just a hug. Simply by holding her hand, Allie knew instantly she was loved, safe, and cherished. She realized that had been what she’d come here for. With all the crazy ups and downs—and that horrific attack of a few weeks past—she’d been bombarded by a tornado of emotions—fear the most frequent to surface.
“I met a boy, mom. You’d be proud of me.” Allie squeezed her mom’s fingers. “Very handsome. And in the Navy, like gramps was.”
Mary pulled her hand away and went back to folding her towels. Allie sighed and continued to recap her last week’s tests and all about how different it was now living with Lainie. She stayed as long as she could, until the nurses began to assemble tables for dinner. Then she kiss
ed her mom on the head. As she gathered her things to leave, she wrapped her mom in an extra tight hug. “I’ll still come on Sunday. Promise. Just had to see my gorgeous mom a few days early.”
***
That night all the humidity of the past week’s on-and-off rain had settled over the valley like syrup in the air. Allie traded in her ratty tee-shirt—which tended to twist up around her in the night and drive her nuts when it was hot out—for a tank top and her favorite boyfriend-style panties.
Coming back into her room from showering and brushing her teeth, she carefully closed the worn out copy of Great Expectations that was laying spread eagle on her pillow and set it on her bedside table. She could have easily pulled the book up on her e-reader, but most of the paperback books like this one had come from her mom’s cache. She guessed it offered her some additional comfort to run her fingers over the same dog-eared pages her mom had flipped through numberless times before her.
Movement from the corner of her room had her lifting her head, but the green eyes that met hers stopped her heart in a second.
“Hello Allie.”
Chapter eleven
“Matthew.” Allie’s hands flew to her throat and she stumbled back. “What in heaven’s name are you doing breaking into my room?”
He sprang to his feet, his eyes widening like she’d startled him just as much.
Oh, he was breathtaking.
The way the night’s light caressed his skin made it almost glow. Stylish jeans hung from muscular legs and narrow hips. Allie’s mouth instantly watered at the thought of pushing his tight-fitting tee shirt up so she could run her tongue down his washboard abs and that sexy “v” of muscle between his hips that had entranced her before when she’d seen him topless in the locker room. Dark shadows traced the curve of his lean jaw. The sight of his mouth was the thing that tore the breath from her lungs, though. Curving and full, sensual as hell; Allie flushed with heat as she remembered what he’d done with it . . . imagined what she was certain he could do to her with it.
Holy moley.
Her thoughts seemed to take a head dive straight into the heated depths of carnality anytime she saw him . . . or thought about him . . . or dreamed of him. . . .
Damn it all.
The man really was a sex god!
Allie tried acting more alarmed by his materialization than she actually felt. Maybe if she acted properly pissed, she’d be able to mask the crazy urge to jump his bones. Geeze, what was she turning into? It felt like ho-bag central in here.
Controlling the shaking in her voice, she repeated, “What on earth are you doing in my room?”
“I, uh,” his eyes raked her head to foot before snapping up to the ceiling. “Your roommate was with company. Let me in and told me I should wait in here.”
Lainie! Oh, she was probably having a good laugh in her room over this. She was so dead in the morning.
Allie ran a hand over her face as her heart returned to normal again.
Matthew’s Adam’s apple moved up and down as he swallowed, his eyes still up on the ceiling. “You’re dressed . . . uh . . . I mean, you’re not wearing much, Allie. Do you mind covering up a little? I’m having a hard time concentrating.”
She looked down at herself and cringed when she noticed she was sporting a dazzling set of glass cutters.
Shit!
Damn it!
She snatched a blanket off her bed and jerked it over her chest, glaring as she snapped, “Well, excuse me for not dressing appropriately. I’ll keep that in mind for next time I find a strange man in my room.”
Matthew ignored the jab and folded his long limbs back into the chair beside her computer desk. His mouth hardened, hands raked through his hair. He slumped backwards and Allie’s forehead crumpled. She had no idea he was capable of slouching—G I Joe badass that he was.
He seemed . . . nervous?
Her teeth set into her bottom lip as she waited for him to offer some kind of explanation. His eyes moved to her mouth and he leaned forward, hands rubbing up and down his thighs.
She raised her eyebrows. “What do you want, Matthew?”
He blew out a frustrated breath. “You, damn me.”
“Me?”
He nodded, mouth pinched and angry.
Boy, did he know how to make a girl feel good about herself.
“You’re everywhere for me. In my head.” He paused. “I can’t work. I can’t sleep. I can’t think strait anymore.” He glowered at her.
Oh.
She collapsed onto her bed in shock, while inside she was doing the Cha Cha. She straightened and pulled the sheets tighter, trying to clear her thoughts.
Mouth a thin line, anxiety rolled off him in waves. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Allie whispered, “Say something, please?”
He blew out a breath and stood again. “You’re so frustrating. I don’t know why I can’t leave you alone.” His voice softened as he stepped closer, “Sorry I scared you.”
He was right in front of her, his long legs only a few inches from her knees. The tension in the room was suddenly through the roof, lust pouring off Allie in waves and crackling over her skin. Her fingers curled at her sides with the need to reach out to him.
“I came here to apologize for being an asshole the other day.” Oh, man. That voice was a velvet caress over her body.
She swallowed.
His eyes were liquid pools of emerald green, wide and pleading for understanding. A single lock of messy, bronze hair brushed the dark arch of one eyebrow. Allie’s stomach fluttered; she’d bet his frustration hair and his post-sex hair would look the same way. The image had a fire stoking beneath her skin.
“What do you want from me, Matthew?”
His hand tightened around hers, cool and steady. “I can’t stay away from you, Allie. I tried to warn you off. I know I’m no good for you, but I still want you, damn selfish bastard that I am. I’ve never had a real relationship before. But, I want to try with you”—his fingers restricted more—“I have to try.”
Oh, boy.
How could a girl refuse an admission like that? He’d been wrong before, when he’d told her he didn’t have romantic ideals. Matthew was Allie’s very own Victorian suitor.
Buoying up her courage, Allie pulled his hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Okay.”
His eyes darkened a moment before he pulled her up to him, wrapped his body around hers, and devoured her with a kiss. Allie melted into his embrace, letting her sheet fall to the floor in a forgotten puddle. She pulled his shoulders down to her, needing to feel all of him against all of her. Hands slipped through his already messy hair and her fingers knotted at the roots.
Oh, his hair was soft. It slipped like silk between her fingers. She traced over the base of his neck, the curve of his ears, the line of his hard jaw, feeling his flesh warm beneath her fingers as she committed every detail to memory.
“Bed, please,” she pleaded through the haze of kisses.
Matthew scooped her up and stretched her out over her mattress. His face burned with hunger as he looked down at her. She fought the self-conscious urge to cover up beneath his gaze, and instead held her arms crossed above her head, her knee slightly bent in invitation. His pupils were dilated with arousal, roamed over her like she was a forbidden fruit smorgasbord in the Garden of Eden and he was trying to decide where to start.
And for the first time in her life Allie felt sexy.
She was doing this to him. Her body a beacon that drew him in and stripped him of any thought but his craving for her. What a rush.
Slowly, he ran his hands down the sensitive flesh of her arms. His hot, wet mouth suckled and nipped at her wrists and inside her elbows, his nose and chin rubbed a smooth line over her arms.
Fingers trembling with anticipation, she reached out to his belly and urged his shirt over his head. The view of his chest was enough to make her come apart on the spot, a perfect sculpture of male anatomy. She tr
aced the SEAL tattoo over his heart as he looked down at her, his eyes fathomless pools of desire.
She had to have him. Now.
Allie pulled him down to her, desperate to feel his flesh against hers. His knee moved between her legs.
Those damn pants needed to be torn off before she died of desire!
Her hands moved to the zipper on his jeans, his mouth stayed busy, latching onto the side of her throat.
When her fingers pried the button of his jeans open he stilled. “I don’t have any condoms, Allie,” his voice rough.
“It’s fine,” she panted. “I’m on the pill.”
He pulled back enough to look into her face. “You are?”
“Mmm, hmm. Have been for years. It helps regulate my . . . err . . . womanly weeks.”
His head burrowed into the side of her neck and laughter vibrated across her skin. “Damn it, Allie. You’re a dream come true. I love it.”
She finished unbuttoning his pants and then they both worked together to pull them down his legs. Allie’s mouth watered as she took in the tight boxer briefs that stretched over his sculpted ass. Unable to help herself, she greedily took his butt into her hands and squeezed. When Matthew laughed again she watched some of the darkness that always clung to his eyes seep away. He looked younger, almost carefree. It made Allie’s heart soar to see it.
Thumbs running over the hard body beneath the elastic waist band, she bravely tugged . .
And then she just stared.
Matthew caught her look and his eyebrows pinched together. “You okay?”
She tore her gaze away and forced herself to look up at him, fire filling her cheeks. “I’m just working out the mechanics, is all.”
“The mechanics . . . ?” His face drained of color. “Haven’t you had sex before?”
She bit her lip and dropped her eyes. “Not exactly.”
He shrugged back into his boxer briefs, then cupped each side of her face and tipped it up so she was forced to look at him.
“Not exactly, or not at all?”
Captured at Nightfall (Capture My Heart Love Story) Page 7