Matt reached down and grabbed the bag, taking her hand in the other. With a squeak of surprise, Lucy tripped behind him as he jogged to the nearest bench and pulled her down behind it. After yesterday, the last thing she’d expected to see was a playful side. Yet another facet of him, as if there weren’t enough already. He set the bag between them, reached in and handed her a water balloon. “Let’s see what you got, Mason.”
A smile stretched across her face. “One point for every hipster you hit. Two for tourists.”
His mouth twitched. “Done.”
She peeked over the bench and hurled a pink balloon at a girl in horn-rimmed glasses. The unexpected impact of Lucy’s balloon knocked them askew on her face.
“Nice one.”
“One point for me.” She tossed him a yellow balloon. “Your turn.”
“Give me another one.” With a shrug, she did as he asked. He pushed his sunglasses back on his head and Lucy suddenly wished she could drag her fingers through his thick black hair. In one fluid movement, he went up on his knees, throwing both balloons at once. Two running tourists were treated to an exploding water balloon attack.
“Impressive.” Unable to wipe the grin off her face, she rooted through the bag. “It’s like you’re a professional sniper or something.”
Matt’s hand flexed, as if talking about his profession put the feel of a rifle in his hand. “Are you implying I have an unfair advantage?”
“I’m not implying. I’m accusing.” She pulled out three balloons and threw him a wink. “Which means I have to step up my game.”
His hot gaze raked over her. “You think you can compete with me?”
It was a wonder the balloons didn’t turn to steam in her palms. “I never back down from a challenge, especially when the competition is meaningless and there are no prizes for winning. Watch and learn, Donovan.”
He gestured arrogantly toward the quad area where the fight raged on. “I’m waiting.”
Lucy peeked through the wooden slats in the bench, spotting a group of tourists wearing I Love NY T-shirts. They were a good distance away and had managed to remain dry thus far. It was a risk, but she’d talked a big game. No guts no glory. She pushed to her feet and threw all three balloons in quick succession, nailing each one of the tourists one after the other. Before they could spot her, she ducked back down behind the bench to find Matt staring at her with raised eyebrows.
“You are so turned on by me right now,” she said, sounding a little breathless.
“Fucking right I am.”
She had to kiss him. Had zero choice in the matter. His mouth, his pleasure-giving mouth, was gorgeous and so close. His body drew hers closer as if she’d become magnetized. She wanted his big, demanding hands on her ass. She wanted to feel his rough-edged muscles under her fingertips, flexing for her.
His teeth grazed his lower lip. “Come here then, baby.”
Before she could reach him, a water balloon pegged him in the arm. He looked so disgusted over it, she had to laugh again. She planted her hands on his shoulders and tried her best to appear serious. “Oh God, Matt, you’ve been hit. Do not go toward the light. Stay with m—”
His mouth stamped over hers. As if he had complete and utter control over her body, she moaned, head tipping back to absorb every stroke of his tongue. She gloried in his uneven groans; they told her how much her submitting affected him. Told her there was a balance. That she shouldn’t be afraid of her willingness to hand him the reins. It was a choice.
Matt felt it, too. Her total relinquishment of control. She could tell from his expression when he pulled back, scrutinizing her face. “You don’t know what it means, Lucy.”
“Tell me. Show me.”
Lucy held her breath. She didn’t know why his response was so important, only that it might make or break this thing between them. Once again, it became so obvious to her that there was so much about him she had yet to learn. She wanted to know everything. Anything less would seem like she was being cheated.
Expression regretful, he pushed her hair back, watching as her curls fell around her face. “Look at you. You live in the sun. I can’t do it.”
“Yes you can. You’re here in the sun with me right now.” The words came out in a rush. She barely knew what she was saying, only that she was losing him. The Matt who’d thrown water balloons was receding, to be replaced with the stoic, closed-off man he showed everyone else. “You just have to stay here with me.”
“I wish it were that simple.” He drew his hand back and Lucy bit back a denial. When the radio crackled on his shoulder, she slumped back. “I have to go.”
Maybe adrenaline was still pumping through her veins from the water balloon flight or maybe their kiss had been a tease to her senses. It was even possible she didn’t want him walking away without taking the best goddamn memory she could give him. Whatever the reason, she found herself lunging for Matt and kissing him for everything she was worth. Her fingers sank into his hair to keep him steady as she swept her tongue into his mouth. His growl of shock vibrated against her lips; his stubble scraped her chin.
He made a noise of capitulation and tried to deepen the kiss, but Lucy pulled away.
She looked him square in the eye. “Think about it. Think about me.”
A humorless laugh escaped him. “You say that like it’s optional.”
Some inner voice urged her to her feet. She didn’t want to watch him walk away, she couldn’t, not after what he’d said. So she would leave first, even if it hurt to put distance in between them. “See you later, Matt.”
She skirted past what was left of the balloon fight and descended into the nearest subway entrance, knowing instinctively he watched her the entire way.
Chapter Twelve
Matt sat at a red light in his ESU truck, performing the usual East Side patrol he’d been assigned to for the last six months. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel; a dull throb worked its way up the back of his neck. Every sound, every flash of sunlight off his windshield was an irritant. Even his jaw ached, he suspected from grinding his teeth together nonstop last night and this morning. Twenty-four hours without Lucy and he felt like a junkie who’d gone too long without a fix. How he’d already formed an addiction to the girl was beyond him. But he had. An all-consuming one that had stitched her beautiful image permanently on the inside of his eyelids. Caused him to catch her scent in the oddest places.
He couldn’t focus on his job. Every thought led back to her, the way she’d looked yesterday. Full of life. Excitement. The way she’d made him feel it, too, during the brief, shining moment he’d allowed himself to feel. It had seemed too good to be true. He’d been forced to remind himself that he wasn’t that man. The kind of man who made a girl like Lucy smile. He might be able to pull it off for one afternoon, but it couldn’t last.
Tell me. Show me. She couldn’t have known what those words meant when it came to him. They’d barely scratched the surface, even if the memory of his hand connecting with her flesh alone could bring him to his knees. When he allowed himself to fantasize about Lucy, he imagined her bound to his bed, under his command. He imagined her on her knees, wearing nothing but a chaste pair of white panties, waiting for his instructions.
The image caused an uncomfortable swelling between his legs and Matt couldn’t resist granting his cock a tight stroke through his uniform pants. It only made matters worse, his thoughts escalating from Lucy on her knees to Lucy asking for permission to suck him off. His flesh disappearing for the first time past her pink lips.
Like this, Matt?
Teeth gritted in agony, he shook his head. Being an adventurous girl, she might be excited by the promise of a new experience, but was most likely just experimenting. Curious about the unknown. But for how long? What if his nature dimmed her free spirit before she’d had enough? He’d never forgive himself. At this point, he’d stopped warning himself off with the reminder of her family name. She was a Mason. Brent’s little sister.
If his best friend had an inkling of the thoughts plaguing him day and night, he’d have him in a pair of cement boots, sinking to the bottom of the Hudson. He’d deserve it, too.
Could she have meant it? Could she…accept me, just like this?
Another flashback projected itself in his mind, identical to the ones he’d been having all morning, whenever they’d managed to form a crack in his thoughts of Lucy. His ex-fiancée’s expression of distaste when he finally revealed his needs. Her panicked look when she realized she’d agreed to marry a man with what she referred to as a “sickness.”
Back then, he hadn’t yet explored his urge to dominate in bed. It had been hiding somewhere in the back of his consciousness for as long as he could remember, but when he’d finally gotten the courage to admit what he needed, he’d been shut down cold. After that, he’d tried so hard to keep it under the surface, until he’d finally gotten the nerve to explore it one night, taking it just a little too far with someone who clearly didn’t understand. He’d seen the emotional damage he could cause. The way she’d recoiled from him like he was a monster. That memory had been seared on his brain, only now it was Lucy’s face, looking appalled, repelled, by what he kept tied up inside. Lucy turning to another man for comfort. A man with normal needs.
Matt pounded the steering wheel so hard it shook.
He wouldn’t recover from that outcome. Not his time. Not with Lucy.
If he walked away now, it would be best for her. He knew that. It would ensure he didn’t continue to disrespect his best friend by going behind his back, too. The fact that he’d let it go on this long was inexcusable. If he walked away now, Lucy would meet someone else. A man without a truckload of baggage and an ugly past. One who had the ability to treat her right. Brent would rib the poor guy constantly, but he’d be at peace with Lucy’s choice in a way he would never be okay with Matt. His friend who’d taken advantage of his trust, pursuing his sister well past the point where he’d found out her identity.
Or he could take one more leap of faith. A shot in the dark that Lucy could allow him to explore his needs while he took unqualified care of hers. He could trust Lucy to know her own mind, giving him the chance to return the favor for the times she’d trusted him. He could…show her. Another surge of anticipation tore through him. To be with Lucy, guilt-free, no limits…
The light turned green. Instead of continuing down Second Avenue as his route dictated, Matt flipped a U-turn back toward the Upper East Side, where he knew Lucy and Brent were having lunch at Quincy’s in half an hour.
…
Lucy sat on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art sipping a Diet Coke through a straw and staring into space. Groups of students on field trips diverged around her, cabs honked, hot dog vendors yelled into their cell phones. The multitude of sounds swept along the warm summer breeze, barely registering. She hadn’t exactly been in the best frame of mind for a job interview but thought it had gone surprisingly well. The young woman who’d interviewed her had been a Syracuse alum and they’d talked for an hour before actually getting down to business. If she was offered the job, she might even have a lunch buddy on day one. Luck seemed to be on her side.
At the very least, the interview had distracted her for an hour, and reminded her of her objective to become employed as soon as possible. Now however, against her admittedly weak will, her thoughts returned to Matt. He hadn’t come to her last night. They’d made no plans to see each other. So why had she lain awake in bed, listening for the door? When it became obvious he wouldn’t come, she’d tossed and turned in the enormous bed, her body feeling hot and achy. Throughout college and grad school, she’d rarely felt the compulsion to touch herself. She’d been exhausted from studying, too focused on other things. Yet last night, she’d found her hand slipping down the front of her panties before she’d made a conscious decision.
Lying facedown, she’d taken off her shirt so her nipples could rasp along the cool sheets. Her thighs had moved restlessly as she’d massaged herself in quick strokes, her moans muffled by the pillow. It had been taking too long—she’d been growing frustrated with the need for relief, her anger projected at Matt for not showing up. That’s what had finally sent her flying. She’d thought of arguing with him, trying to walk away. Him stopping her. Holding her against the wall, demanding that she stop fighting him…before he’d resorted to touching her. Replacing her anger with reluctant pleasure. It hadn’t been long before she submitted, in the fantasy and in reality. Before her climax had brought his name to her lips, over and over.
In the light of day, even she had to blush thinking about what her imagination had conjured up. His forcefulness in her fantasy had been the element that drove her to the brink. His refusal to relent. Matt’s tastes seemed to be lighting a fire inside her, kindling wants she’d never known existed. She wanted to explore them, badly, but based on their final exchange yesterday and his absence last night, she had no idea where they stood.
He hadn’t seemed comfortable sneaking around behind her brother’s back, so why did he keep pursuing her? Did he desire her so much that he couldn’t help it? A thrill moved through Lucy at the possibility that a man like Matt, usually in such ruthless control of his emotions, couldn’t keep them in check around her. Still, she didn’t like going behind Brent’s back either. She’d been stupid and impulsive the first time, but the longer it went on, the guiltier she would be. In her eyes and Brent’s.
If her brother ever found out. If there was something more than a physical attraction between her and Matt, he would have to be informed at some point. Otherwise, this would be chalked up to a forbidden affair with an end date, never to be acknowledged by anyone save her and Matt. The possibility of that outcome left her feeling more than a little empty.
She thought of her brother, of all he’d done for her. Helping raise her, paying for her college tuition, encouraging her in his own unique way. Her throat tightened with guilt. Next time she and Matt were alone, she would bite the bullet and ask him what he wanted to do. In the meantime, she had a lunch date with Brent at Quincy’s on the East Side, meaning she needed to be across town in half an hour.
Standing to dust off the pencil skirt she’d worn for the interview, Lucy prayed it wouldn’t be too difficult to look him in the eye.
Right on time, she walked into the buzzing pub and immediately spotted her brother sitting at a table near the back. Not that he was difficult to spot since his size made him a foot taller than most people in the establishment. Since today happened to be his day off, he wore a pair of old faded jean and a Mets T-shirt. When he saw her, he broke into a smile.
“Look at you, dressed to kill.” He kissed her on the cheek, then gave her a look of alarm. “Hold up. You didn’t actually kill anyone, right?”
With a smirk, she hung her purse on the back of the chair. “Job interview. Idiot.”
Brent shrugged as he sat back down. “The day is young.”
“Keep it up and you’ll be my first victim.”
As Lucy got settled in her chair, Brent signaled the waitress. “Job interviews already, huh? You finished grad school all of four days ago.”
She accepted a menu from the waitress. “The sooner the better.”
Her brother watched her closely. “Yeah? Why is that?” He leaned back in his chair. “I thought you’d be itching to backpack around Europe or join the circus.”
I want to help you. I don’t want to be a burden anymore. I want to be a solution, not a problem. “The circus isn’t hiring at the moment.”
“All the bearded lady positions have been filled?”
Their banter felt so comfortable and familiar, she had to bury her smile behind her menu. “Something like that.” Deciding on the turkey club—she always got the turkey club—she tossed the menu onto the table. “Funny you should mention Europe, though, I had an offer—”
“Matty,” Brent shouted over her shoulder, making her jump. With a pit in the bottom of her stomach, Lucy turned
and saw Matt standing just inside the door, wearing his ESU uniform. Every pulse point skittered at the sight of him. When their gazes met, every inch of skin covered by her clothes flamed. She thought she saw his eyes flare with want, just as she imagined her own doing, but he turned and gave the waitress his order before she could be certain. As he approached them, she tried to read his expression. This had to be awkward for him. But she couldn’t gauge anything from his expression.
“Figured I’d grab some lunch to go,” Matt said by way of greeting. “I’m on duty for another four hours.”
“Sit with us while you wait, bro.” Brent kicked out a chair beside her. “Lucy was just telling me about her job interview today.”
Matt glanced at her, mask perfectly in place. “Really. Where?”
She suddenly hated that mask. Wanted to shout at him until it went away. “The Met.”
“The Met?” Brent slapped the table. “Are you kidding me, Luce? Why didn’t you say something?”
“I kind of just did.” She shifted in her seat, trying to ignore the heat radiating from Matt’s thigh. “Anyway, it’s just an assistant position. I’d be working under one of the curators. Probably doing Starbucks runs until I get blisters.”
In reality, it was a coveted position for someone fresh out of grad school. She’d been persistent about getting the interview, even having a handful of her more connected professors write letters of recommendation. It would put her right where she needed to move higher up the ladder, giving her valuable experience in the process. If she ever decided to move on, her résumé would be rock solid, having worked at the world-famous museum. Should they decide she was right for the position after today’s interview, she would accept the job in a heartbeat. It meant living her dream and being close to her family.
The waitress dropped off drinks Brent had ordered, effectively distracting her brother with a cheap shot about the Mets. Lucy glanced up to find Matt considering her closely. There was something behind his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago, as if he were working on making a decision. His gray stare was serious as usual, but something else existed behind it. Hope?
Staking His Claim (A Line of Duty Novel) (Entangled Brazen) Page 11