Captured at Nightfall (Capture My Heart Love Story)

by Rasmussen, Kitrisha

  He stood there for a minute with her squashed against him, probably counting to ten or something. When he pulled back, his fingers clamped onto her shoulders while his eyes narrowed to deep green slivers. “Damn it, Allie. I am so mad at you right now, I can hardly speak.”

  “Mad at me!” Bullshit to that! “What did I do?” she sputtered.

  “When I first meet you you’re nearly gang raped, then you go back to the UMMA like you’re asking for it again to get information on me—someone who you didn’t know from Adam—and now this shit! I walk up on you getting pawed by some asshole! What the hell? Why can’t you stay out of trouble for five seconds?” His arms vibrated with rage as he held onto her, fingers digging into her flesh. Lips peeled back from teeth in a snarl, white with anger—and what Allie now realized was fear. For her.

  Kind of knocked the wind out of her sails. But she’d be damned if she was going to feel sorry for him right now. “I was fine,” she snapped.

  Matthew’s eyes widened with incredulity. “Fine? Are you kidding me? That guy was trying to eat you for dinner.”

  She glowered. “It was just Adam. He’d never hurt me.”

  “Uh, huh,” his voice was acid. “Sorry, baby, but from right here it looked like he wasn’t planning on taking ‘no’ for an answer anytime soon.”

  “I had it under control!” she was almost shouting at him now, trying to get her point through his thick scull.

  He released her shoulders and she stumbled forward. His hands dove into his hair and rubbed over his unshaven cheeks. After taking in a few deep breaths he asked, “Who is he?” his words quiet.

  “Adam is just a friend,” she enunciated the last word for emphasis. “We grew up together.”

  As he shifted his feet Allie saw the flash of metal beneath his jacket. A gun? “Did you just get back?”

  He stopped pacing. “Tonight. I came here as soon as my plane landed.”

  Shit again.

  She’d been his first stop.

  Awe, crap. Now she felt like an ass.

  His forehead crumpled as he looked down into her eyes. “You’re dating.” His words were soft, but sliced into her heart with the force of a bullet.

  “It wasn’t like that, Matthew.” She found his hand and laced her fingers through his. “We’re only friends—or supposed to be.” Her nose curled up at the memory of Adam’s frantic mouth on hers. “I swear. He takes care of my mom, that’s it. He’s been gone for a few months, dealing with family stuff and just got back today. We were just catching up until he got all stupid.”

  The tension around Matthew’s eyes loosened a bit. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he growled.

  She sighed. “Matthew, I am careful.”

  His forefinger jabbed into her breastbone. “Bullshit. You’re a magnet for trouble.”

  “Am not!” Her mouth pursed, rather prudish and she smacked his hand away. “You are overreacting. And besides; you’ve been gone for weeks now. No phone call? No nothing? And now you just show up, mad at me and start shouting about being worried?” Her arms crossed over her heaving chest as she rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you’ve been really cut up over us.”

  “Damn it, Allison!” His hands dove back into his hair so that bronze spikes poked up between pale fingers. “I’m sorry! I won’t let you out of my sight from now on.”

  Allie’s mouth popped open. “I’m not interested in a damn ankle monitor! All I want is a freaking phone call once in a while to let me know you’re alive. Geeze! The news is depressing enough; but I watched every story, the whole time wondering if you were going to make one of the leads. Or worse yet: that you’d just disappear off the edge of the earth.”

  He stared at her, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I’ll call from now on . . . if I can.”

  “You don’t have to tell me details. All I want is to know you’re okay.” She gathered up his hand and pressed it against her cheek. The skin was cool and hard, but boy he smelled good. Sweet and masculine.

  When his eyes darkened she figured the fight was over. Good thing, too, because all the blood was pooling deep in her belly, awakening a part of her that seemed to answer just to him. He pulled her into his chest and wrapped her in a crushing embrace.

  “You. Are. Mine,” he whispered between the kisses he placed over her nose, eyelids, and cheeks. His chin tickled with its stubble. Rough and scratchy, but titillating as heck. He kept up the kisses, butterfly soft and teasing; it drove Allie crazy. Practically panting with the need for more by the time he reached the corner of her mouth, she straight up moaned when his teeth bit down on the bottom of her lip.

  Pretty sure her brain had just floated off into the upper atmosphere, Allie attacked Matthew, all grasping hands and legs and lips. Her goal was getting a hold of as much of him as she could; screw the fact that they were in her driveway.

  Somehow she’d managed to climb him, legs wrapped around his perfect waist, hands full of his perfect ass. She devoured him, one blessed inch at a time, sucking and nibbling the soft flesh at his throat.

  “Allie,” his words rumbled against her lips. He easily shifted her in his arms and held her in place.

  Her eyes narrowed. “If you don’t kiss me again I’ll die.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he laughed.

  Matthew backed them behind a pop-out at the front of the house where clinging shrubs acted as a privacy screen. Now, at night, it was a black hole in the darkness.

  His hands pressed into the stucco wall and Allie held onto his shoulders while she moved against him.

  Matthew groaned, not bothering to form a coherent reply. Or perhaps he was beyond the ability, she mused happily to herself as her back was forced into the hard grit of the stucco. His eyes were black with his need for her, wild and hungry in the shadows. His breathing a harsh staccato. His head fell forward into the side of her throat.

  “Shit,” he rasped right before his teeth bit into her shoulder.

  Hands slid to the waistband of her pants, played over the arch of her hipbone.

  “Thong.” He grinned. His fingers twisted around the string over her hip. The night air tickled through her hair and she shivered, feeling—as silly as it sounded—naughty.

  He rubbed against her and a pathetic mewling noise escaped from her parted lips.

  “Shhh now, or someone will know what we’re up to,” he chided.

  The thought of Lainie walking out on them kanoodleing in the front yard had her burrowing her flaming cheeks into his chest.

  When her thigh brushed against cold metal she paused. “Damn it, Matthew. You’re still wearing a gun?”

  With a caveman growl the gun quickly disappeared and without further ado, Matthew claimed her mouth. “I missed you so damn much,” the words tumbled over hot breath.

  “I missed you, too,” her voice caught and he pulled back to look at her. “I hated you being gone.”

  His eyes were dark, unreadable. “How do I feel so much when I’m with you?” The statement was quiet, almost a whisper.

  The air had suddenly left her lungs as she looked into his hard face. There was so much unsaid in that simple question. It was shining in his face, causing all her insecurity about him to vanish.

  Just like that she knew he cared for her.

  Her hand rested over the side of his jaw, her finger tracing the prickly stubble at the corner of his perfect lips. They stared at each other as some kind of connection flowed between them and Allie wondered . . . But before she could think of what this powerful new emotion was blossoming between them Matthew broke their gaze and her feet were back on solid ground. He quickly tucked himself back into respectability while Allie tried to keep from tipping over—still in a noodle state of shell shock on rubbery legs and feeling as if her whole world had just turned on its axis to orbit around the man before her. Her shoes had clattered to the ground sometime during the last few minutes and she ran her hands along the concrete, blindly searching for them.

  Instead, she found his g
un.

  Oh, boy.

  Which end was best to pick up? She didn’t want to chance shooting herself or him, so she decided to keep as far from the trigger as she could. Holding the barrel with both hands and keeping the gun pointed away from either of them, she handed it over to Matthew.

  “Shit. Allie. You don’t hold a gun like that!” He quickly snatched the thing from her and tucked it into a holster on his hip.

  Why did she have the feeling they were going to argue a lot?.

  “I was being careful.” Her chin tipped up when his eyebrows hit his hairline. “I didn’t want to shoot someone.”

  Matthew shook his head. “Hell’s sakes, woman. Have you never handled a gun before?”

  “No.” Nose curling. Guns scared the heck out of her.

  His head shook again, an index finger tracing the edge of his chin. “I’m going to have to remedy that,” the words were almost to himself. “Gun safety one-oh-one.” His eyes met hers as he took the gun out of the holster once more and placed it in her hands. Perspiration instantly blossom over her palms and face.

  “I don’t think this—”

  “—Put your hand here,” he cut her off and urged one of hers onto the grip. When her finger tried to curl around the trigger, Matthew quickly pulled it out. “Uh, uh,” he chided. “Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.” He put her finger flat against the trigger guard. “Your finger goes here, like this.”

  “Right,” she nodded; her mouth full of cotton.

  “Now, put your other hand here, under the barrel. Kind of cradle it.” Allie’s eyes rolled—bossy drill sergeant—but she did as he said.

  He nodded. “Good, baby.”

  Pleased as she was at receiving his praise, she couldn’t wait to get the thing out of her hands. “Here. I don’t want to shoot you.”

  Matthew’s laugh was velvet. “You can’t shoot me, Allie. No one can fire this gun except me.”

  Her brows furrowed. “Why not?”

  He took the gun back and tipped it sideways. “See the grip? It reads your palm imprint. It’ll only fire if my palm is the one covering it.”

  “Really?” So cool. Very Terminator.

  “Yup.” He grinned in a boyish, crooked way that dug a dimple into the center of his cheek and made the green in his eyes dance.

  “Cool.”

  While he holstered the gun again she asked, “Do you want to stay over?”

  His face instantly hardened..

  What had she said? Had she pressured him too much? She knew he wasn’t big on commitment. Damn it. She had to ruin his good mood.

  “Hey”—he tipped her chin up so he was looking into her face—“it’s not you. I’m”—he paused and seemed to struggle for the right words—“I’m not a good sleeper.” When her face crumpled he added, “Insomnia. You wouldn’t get a wink of sleep if I stayed.” She could tell that there was a lot of weight behind his words, but the sleeping over thing was a bad subject, and she didn’t want to push him.

  “Oh. Alright.”

  “Why don’t you meet me tomorrow at PPMS? Five o’clock? We’ll go out.”

  That lifted her spirits. “Okay. Sure. Five o’clock.” With a shy smile, fumbling fingers pushed a lock of chestnut hair behind her ear.

  He kissed her; the long, leisurely kind that showed he wasn’t finished with her by a mile. Left her breathless and ready for round two. When he pulled away, Allie was all dreamy-eyed and hard-core smitten.

  “Damn it, woman.” He shook his head in awe. “What are you doing to me?”

  Chapter sixteen

  Allie parked across the street from PPMS the next day, doing some serious deep breathing exercises. Her hands were all constricting tendons clenched over her steering wheel.

  What was with the panic attack now?

  Nerves?

  If only it were that simple.

  She peeled her fingers free and let them flutter around her face and through her hair as she looked herself over in the visor.

  Her face, milky white normally, had a healthy flush of blood pulsing beneath her cheeks. Her doe-brown eyes were shining brightly with expectation—radiating with so much life and excitement they sparkled. Her mouth was slightly parted, as if, even now Matthew was still leaving her breathless, in spite of the fact that she hadn’t seen him since late last night when they’d made out like teenagers in front of her house.

  Oh!

  What was he doing to her?

  Her lips were full, still swollen from his brutal kisses. A trembling index finger brushed over the center pad of her bottom lip and she sighed, eyes fluttering close. The feel of his mouth on hers . . . the way he kissed her . . . geeze, Louise. He didn’t just kiss her . . . he possessed her; consumed her; dominated every inch—every cell—until all rationale evaporated and she transformed into some wild woman.

  She’d never in a million years pick herself out of a crowd and think she was eye-catching. But how Matthew treated her . . . she felt beautiful when he was with her.

  What in the hell was she doing to herself?

  She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that the “L” word may be involved somehow, and that had her scared to death.

  Matthew was just so consuming.

  Thus, the panic attack.

  Giving your everything to someone who was so guarded, so private, and who disappeared all the time; well, it probably wasn’t the smartest move Allie had ever made. But then, her brain tended to vay-cay up in La La Land anytime Matthew came around. And besides, she couldn’t help who her heart chose, could she? Good for her or bad, Matthew had most assuredly taken up residence in that particular organ.

  The front doors to the PPMS building opened and the unmistakable physique that could only belong to Matthew Lynch made its exit, and then turned to face the building, obviously waiting for someone.

  Allie’s cheeks simultaneously cracked apart to accommodate a big ol’ cheesball grin while she scooped a pair of her panties off the passenger-side seat and stuffed them in her clutch.

  A well of giggles trilled up her throat as she imagined Matthew’s expression when she casually slipped them into his pocket later.

  Yes, this was going to be a fun night.

  She shut off her ignition and climbed out of her car.

  Deep. Breath.

  Her eyes trained on Matthew’s back while nervous hands smoothed the skintight, black dress she’d borrowed from Lainie. The lacy tops of her garters were barely covered at the halfway point up her thighs. It had been a ridiculously expensive luxury—the lingerie. She’d never spent so much on herself before. Especially for something like underwear. All that silk and lace made her feel like a sex kitten, though. Matthew’s sex kitten, actually. So, really, it was worth it.

  Smiling like an idiot, Allie stepped down off the curb to cross the street and froze.

  Two little boys with red hair barreled out PPMS doors and launched toward Matthew’s opening arms. He swung one squealing boy up onto his shoulder, while the other one railroaded him in the gut. Laughing, and looking carefree in a way Allie had never seen him before, Matthew grabbed that boy, too, and tossed him up onto his other shoulder before he started heading toward a waiting cab.

  Oh . . . No!

  The world began to recede around the edges as a fuzzy black hole centered right around Matthew. She choked on a wave of nausea that washed over her, too horror stricken to look away—or run away for that matter; which was what she was doing in her head—both hands clawing at her face in a perfect impression of Edvard Munch’s Scream painting. Unfortunately, the nausea only compounded when the tiny figure of a woman—super model?—wearing a perfectly tailored cream dress over willowy legs that didn’t seem to stop for miles clipped onto the scene. A quaff of black curling hair framed a face other women would die to have: she was all dark, smoldering eyes and red lips, parted in a sexy, Mona Lisa smile. She walked up to Matthew and put an arm around his waist. Showing familiarity. Lots
of it.

  Oh, shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  As they reached the cab, the woman rose up to tip toes and kissed Matthew’s cheek.

  He was freaking married!

  Oh, please no!

  Allie had slept with a married man.

  The wheels started cranking on overdrive as she searched back for some clue.

  His finger. Had there been a line from a wedding band? Shit, she couldn’t remember.

  All the time he’d been gone . . . oh . . . shit! Double shit!

  Tears brimmed in Allie’s eyes. What they’d done together!

  As the woman—wife—and kids got into the cab Allie turned to flee.

  She was going to lose it.

  I have to get out of here . . . like, now.

  A horn blared and she jumped.

  Crap, she’d been standing in the middle of the crosswalk for who-knew-how-long, staring at Matthew. Her tongue felt thick, like she couldn’t get his name off the roof of her mouth.

  The horn blared again and Matthew’s attention was drawn right to her. She scrambled back to the sidewalk, fumbling in her purse for her keys. Just as she pulled them free, Matthew came up on her. She actually smelled him first. And damn him, he smelled incredible: like cloves mixed with aftershave—all sex and testosterone.

  “Allison?” That voice melted her on contact, all mocha caramel triple rich fudge supreme. Forbidden fudge supreme!

  She kept her eyes on the ground.

  Oh, she was miserable.

  His hand ran up her waist and back, urging her to turn toward him. Those hands! Where they’d been! She couldn’t stand it!

  When she refused to turn, Matthew asked, “Allie, what’s wrong?”

  She couldn’t face him. She just couldn’t.

  The peek at his reflection in the car window being the best she could manage, her voice quivered all over her words, “I was just leaving.”

  “I can see that.” A pinch of skin appeared between his eyebrows. “Why?”

  Her hand flattened over the side of the car and she sucked in a breath through her nose. Not very lady like, but it was better than strangling him. “I—I saw you with your . . . er . . . kids.”