Lovers' Dance

by Carr, K

  A range of emotions flew across Matt’s face, finally settling on shameful resignation, and Nathan knew he’d touched a nerve.

  “I—” Matt paused, unfolding his arms and rubbing a hand vigorously over his face. “I left her to it, Nathan. I knew this time would be difficult for her, and I allowed her to convince me she would be fine. She’s not fine. Drinking for four days straight is not fine.” He finished on a frustrated note.

  Nathan chewed his lower lip silently, then said blandly, “So you feel partially responsible for her current state, and your guilt is causing you to fight with the very person you’re worried about. Is my deduction correct?”

  “Don’t psychoanalyze me, you tosser,” Matt groused, before stalking over to the window. Silence descended between them. Nathan waited. He knew his friend, and he knew he would talk when he was ready. Hopefully, Matt didn’t take too long to speak his mind; Bella was downstairs and Nathan wanted to get back to her as quickly as possible.

  “I don’t know what to do, Nathan,” Matt finally said, facing the window and staring out bleakly. “The women I’ve been with…my past relationships, they’ve all tried their hardest to insert themselves in my life. Confided their secrets in hopes of deepening the relationship. You know all of this, you’ve seen it for yourself.” Matt turned to face him with that bleak expression on his face. “But Madi won’t. She keeps me at arm’s length, doubts us. It’s bloody perplexing, not to mention annoying. How the hell do you deal with Bella? How do you make a committed relationship work? This is a first for me.”

  Nathan hid his dawning astonishment at Matt’s heartfelt outpouring with a light chuckle. “You’re absolutely smitten.”

  “Is that all the advice you have to offer?” Matt said bad-temperedly.

  Nathan sighed, then shrugged. “Just love her, Matt. Faults and all. It’s what I do with Bella, and I’m sure she does the same with me, although I have more faults than her.” Nathan sighed again, holding Matt’s gaze with his own. “I’m sorry.”

  Matt’s face became guarded. “Sorry? About what?”

  Nathan tugged his tie loose and scowled before taking a large bite of humble pie. “You love her, and I’ve been a complete arse about it. I’m sorry, mate. Truly I am.”

  “Thank you,” Matt said sombrely. “Now tell me what the fuck I should do.”

  “Let her cool off for a bit, then apologize.”

  Matt arched a sceptical eyebrow at him, and Nathan chuckled before adding, “I bloody hope you’ve gotten her something smashing for her birthday.”

  Matt cracked a small smile. “I have.”

  “Good,” Nathan said with a nod. “Let’s go downstairs and sort your love life out.”

  Matt’s smile wavered and he turned back towards the window. “You go ahead. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  Nathan held his tongue and walked out the bedroom. He understood. Being in love was hard for men like themselves. He’d experienced it with Bella. The gnawing fear that made you second guess yourself, made you wonder if the shine was real or a façade of something that didn’t exist. Trust was something men like him didn’t give easily. Not with their money or their time. Trusting someone with your heart was the greatest risk of all but, if you found the right person…the gamble was worth it. So worth it. Nathan smiled softly as he quietly closed the door behind him, leaving Matt to his thoughts. Bella was worth it, and it seemed Matt had finally found someone worthy of giving his heart to. All Nathan had to do now was put the fear of God into Madison DuMont, because if she broke his best friend’s heart, he would make her regret it.

  <><><>

  Everyone was acting normal, never mind the unspoken tension between Matt and myself. We were in the dining room, a room I rarely used. The boxes of old ballet costumes stacked on one side a testament to that fact. The conversation around the table was not about anything in particular. My friends talking to Matt’s friends while we both avoided each other’s gaze. I sighed and pushed the food around my plate. My buzz had disappeared and my appetite had gone AWOL since the argument. It seemed Matt wasn’t hungry either, as he silently drank his glass of water, eyes meeting mine over the rim for a second before our gaze skittered away from each other.

  “Blimey,” Nathan coughed and snatched up his glass. “This is spicy.”

  I caught Matt’s eyes on me, and we shared a slight smile.

  “I’ll get more water,” I announced, reaching for the almost empty jug and getting to my feet.

  “I’ll help you,” Matt said, pushing back his chair and standing up.

  My back stiffened. Everyone started talking louder to cover the sudden awkwardness as I walked out of the room and headed to the kitchen with Matt close on my heels. It was obvious he wanted to ‘talk.’ I didn’t need help to get a jar of water, unless he felt I was too drunk to do it. I gritted my teeth in silent irritation, remembering the verbal assault he’d hurled at me upstairs. Humph. Cutting just like Grumps. I didn’t know what he’d done with my last bottle of whiskey. If I found out he’d thrown it down the sink, I would kick his ass into another race.

  “Poppet,” he murmured, resting his strong hand on my lower back. A tingle of electricity went through me at his touch. I eased away. Electricity was all well and good, served a purpose, but it was dangerous, too. Both literally and figuratively in Matt’s case.

  He sighed and let me move away. I grabbed a bottle of water from one of the cupboards and emptied it into the jar under Matt’s intense stare.

  “Are you going to talk to me?” he asked.

  I shrugged, not wanting to get into it. He sighed, then reached over to take the pitcher from my hands.

  “Wait here. I’ll be right back, poppet.”

  I watched as he walked out of the kitchen, noting the lines of his broad back under his shirt. His jacket was on my bed. I needed to remind him of that before he left. Was his tie upstairs also?

  “Stupid man,” I muttered under my breath. I went over to the fridge and grabbed a can of beer. The fizzing sound when I opened it brought me comfort. It was fucked up, I know. My behaviour the past couple of days was cringe-worthy, but it helped me through this dismal time. Helped me deal with the pain…hide from the pain, numbed the pain. I brought the can to my lips and drank like a parched convict seeking freedom at the bottom of the aluminium can. Screw therapy, I had my own therapy and all it cost was a trip to Sainsbury’s or Marks & Spencer’s and a walk down the alcohol aisle. The demon drink. Once a year, he was my closest friend. He helped me in a way no one could. He made me forget my dreaded secret.

  “Poppet,” Matt said from the doorway. How long had he been standing there?

  I choked, spluttering beer down my mouth and chin. Shit.

  He closed the door behind him and walked over as I clumsily wiped my face. God. I didn’t need another dose of his cold reprimands.

  “Please, Matt. I don’t want to know how irresponsible I’m acting—”

  “I wasn’t going to say that, Madi,” he interrupted quietly. “I don’t want to fight anymore, not today, not with you.”

  “Me neither.” I observed him suspiciously. “What were you going to say then?”

  He gave me a strained smile and reached for my messy curls. “Your hair is wild today.”

  Instinctively, I reached up with my free hand to try and smooth it back. Matt stopped me.

  “I like it, poppet.”

  I snorted in disbelief and his smile stretched even further. He leaned down and pressed the softest of kisses over my lips.

  “Happy birthday.” A kiss on the corner of my lips. “I love you.” Another kiss, this time across my cheek. “And I’m taking the next few days off work.” His mouth brushed over my temple. “So you’re not alone in this.” He found my lips again, slowly exploring the inner crevices of my mouth until I was moaning softly with pent up desire. Those chaste kisses after our dates were all well and good, but this was what I needed. His warm, sensuous lips masterfully claiming mine. I really
needed this. The can of beer slipped from my fingers and fell with a little clink, spilling over my kitchen floor and rolling away. I snaked my hands up Matt’s chest, over his shoulders, until they ended up threading through his silky hair. Matt groaned and wrapped his arms around me before hoisting me up on the counter. God. I missed this. Of their own accord my legs wrapped around him and, when he pressed his lower body against me, the noises coming from us became desperate.

  I pulled away from his consuming kiss, breathless and shaky. “Are we still doing this dating crap?”

  Matt looked at me, bottom lip caught between his perfect teeth. “Yes.”

  I groaned in frustration and arched my body against his. Matt’s eyes slipped closed for a moment before he opened them. The lust spilling out of his eyes tore a whimper from my throat.

  “Can we have sex, Matt?”

  He licked his lips. “Yes.”

  I was unbuttoning his shirt. The moment his tongue had made an appearance, the impulses coming from my brain to my hands were: Get him naked.

  His hand covered mine. “Not now, poppet. We’ve got a house full of guests, and the things I want to do to you…” He inhaled roughly. “We need to be alone for me to make love to you the way I need to.”

  Hot damn. The man had a way with words, but he did have a point. I sighed loudly, pressed up to his muscly goodness and aching. Only Matt could make me ache like this.

  But I needed to address his previous comment. “Fine, I’ll wait until we’re alone so you can—”

  “Shag you senseless, poppet,” he finished huskily.

  Another shiver ran through me and my heart started racing, a medically worrying level of racing. This had to be bad for my health. No organ should be subjected to that level of activity. I inhaled deeply to calm my body down, then said, “I don’t want you taking time off work, Matt. You’re busy and it’s not necessary. I’ll be fine.”

  He pulled back slightly to look at me square on. “Madi.”

  “Matt, I’ll be fine. My friends are here.”

  “Aren’t they flying back to the States tomorrow?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Dante’s got my back. Look, don’t worry about me. I’m sor—” I paused, the apology for the drama earlier on the tip of my tongue. “You apologize first, then I will.”

  Matt gave me a bemused smile. “Why am I apologizing, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  I shot him a sarcastic look and he winked at me. He slipped a hand under the edge of my boob tube. Fingers stroking upwards until…

  “Matt.” My heart rate picked up a fast tempo as he fondled me gently. That gentleness disappeared seconds later when I leaned in closer to him. Matt groaned, squeezing my breast, and I groaned along with him. Forget the people in my dining room. The kitchen door was closed. They should know not to come in here. My fingers had resumed their attack on the buttons of his shirt while my lips crept across his masculine jaw.

  “Sorry,” he said with a raspy voice before dragging his hand out from under my top. The hell?

  I leaned back, fighting the frown on my face. “What are you sorry for? Calling me an immature brat? Jacking up Bret? Stealing my whiskey? Or pussy teasing me? Because this teasing shit deserves an apology.”

  Matt’s face reflected shock at my choice of words, then his tongue swept over his sexy lips as he waggled his eyebrows at me in a lecherous manner. “Say that word again, poppet,” he said, and I blushed furiously. It had slipped out.

  “No,” I muttered self-consciously, and Matt chuckled.

  “Go on, say it again. I’ve never heard you use such a term before. I’m not sure I like it, so you have to say it once again in order for me to decide if it’s too vulgar. Maybe more than once.”

  “Idiot.” I unhooked my legs from around his waist and wriggled over the counter. Matt’s hands gripped my hips, holding me still.

  “Once more, poppet,” he pleaded, and my face heated up again. He grinned at me, a devious glint in his eyes. “Blushing?”

  “Black girls—”

  “Don’t blush.” He laughed. “So you say, yet you are.”

  I braced the palms of my hands against his chest and pushed. Matt stepped back, giving me that impish look. Honestly. For a thirty-seven-year-old gazillionaire, he liked messing about way too much.

  “In response to your previous point though—” He got serious. “I’m not staying away again. We’re in a relationship and, in case you didn’t know, people in a relationship support each other during the hard times. I’m staying over and will be plastered to your side for the next few days, poppet. Accept it and move on.”

  Bossy. Bossy. Infuriatingly bossy.

  “There’s no need,” I said, frustrated as I hopped off the counter. It was bad enough he’d seen me in the state I was today. “I’ll be in the studio all day tomorrow, then Wednesday—” I broke off sharply, not wanting to think about my upcoming trip to the cemetery.

  Matt saw the look on my face and moved towards me. I turned away, giving him my back. I grabbed a roll of kitchen towels and proceeded to tidy up the spilt beer on the floor. By the time I dumped the soggy towels and can in the bin, my emotions were encased behind a wall of longstanding denial. I was in control. I would get through this.

  “Dante’s going to be with me anyway, Matt,” I said in an attempt to reassure him. “Plus, there’s nowhere for you to sleep tonight—”

  “I beg your pardon?” The chilly tone of his voice gave me pause. “Explain yourself, poppet, because you’re not making any sense.”

  “Well,” I started slowly, silently cursing in my head. “Um, Bret and Sol are in the spare room.”

  “And?” His voice had dropped to a low growl. And it wasn’t the sexy kind.

  My throat closed up. The expression on his face had my mind yelling, “Danger, Madison DuMont. Danger.”

  Matt folded his arms across his chest, straightening up to his full intimidating height. “I know you’re not about to say what you’re about to say, Madison. I know you’re not implying that there’s no room in your bed because someone else is in it with you. I fucking know you are not telling me that for the past few nights Dante has been sleeping in your bed instead of on the couch. The same Dante who I know shouldn’t have keys to your front door anymore.”

  Danger, Madison DuMont. Danger, danger, danger.

  “I thought we weren’t fighting anymore, Matt?” I rubbed my neck, frantically thinking up ways to avoid an explosion of epic proportion. Would he try and jack Dante up too? Bret would jump in, Dante was his boy. Then Nathan might come to Matt’s assistance. And Sol wasn’t going to let anyone harm her man. Her half-Latino side was not to be messed with. Would Bella get involved? She didn’t look the type to get rowdy. But what if the brownies and the bit of alcohol she’d drunk made her see red when Sol beat the crap out of her man…and Sol was definitely capable of doing that.

  USA vs. UK, and I had attachments to both. Which side would I have to pledge allegiance to? If the shit hit the fan, who would get splattered?

  As the imagined, but totally possible scene unfolded before my eyes, Matt waited silently, bristling like a porcupine that had been disturbed.

  I started in a small voice. “He is my best fri—”

  Matt was already striding towards the kitchen door. Danger, danger, danger.

  “Matt.” I went after him. Unfortunately I must not have mopped up all the spilt beer, because my right sock-clad heel hit a wet patch and I let out a high-pitched shriek as I collided into Matt’s back. He grunted from the sudden impact, and we both toppled to the ground. At least my fall was cushioned, Matt wasn’t so lucky.

  “Bloody hell, poppet.” He groaned, cheek pressed to the floor. “There’s no need to attack me from behind. No need at all.”

  “It was an accident,” I gushed, laying on top of Matt’s back and taking a few seconds to catch my breath. Keeping him flat out on the tiles was an unexpected advantage. The danger might not have been aver
ted yet. Matt wriggled beneath me, and I slid off him as he tried to sit up. The door swung open and five astonished pairs of eyes battled to see what was going on. They must have heard the commotion.

  “I told you he was rough with her,” Dante exclaimed to Bret as he came into the kitchen and manhandled me up on my feet. Matt made a low sound in the back of his throat, like a warning, as he sat up fully.

  Bret walked in. “He’s rough with you, MSG? Nah, man, I ain’t having this shit. This brother about to get mad up in here.”

  “What’s happening, Nathan?” Bella tried to ease past Nathan, who got shouldered back by Sol.

  “Que paso?” she asked, eyeing Matt with suspicion.

  “Matt, are you okay?” Nathan asked. “What’s going on? What did she do to you?”

  I looked at Matt scowling on my kitchen floor with a lock of his silky black hair over his forehead and his shirt partly unbuttoned. Respectable business tycoon didn’t fit right at this moment. Pissed off hottie was more suitable. The giggle slipped out. Matt narrowed his eyes at me. The grey orbs sparkling with annoyance. I giggled again before taking it down from Defcon 1 to Defcon 3. No way would I be able to get Matt to Defcon 5 level, not after admitting my recent sleeping arrangements. I honestly didn’t know why he was stressing. Dante had a girlfriend, and we’d been friends forever. Sharing the same pillows didn’t mean anything, did it? It was like sleeping with Sol…well, kind of. Sol didn’t wake up with a—

  “Okay,” I said loudly to quiet the words in my head and diffuse the drama. “D, I told you before, Matt’s not rough with me.” I smirked at Bret. “Dude, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times: You’re white, not black. And Matt is way stronger than you. No one is getting mad up in here.” I used air quotations. It was necessary when dealing with Bret.

  Sol nodded in agreement.

  I arched an eyebrow at Nathan. “What did I do to him? He’s twice my size, Nathan. Get real.” Then I smiled at Bella. “I hope the food wasn’t too spicy, Bella. I can make you something else if you want.”

  Everyone began to speak at once. I looked down at Matt and smiled. He always made me smile, when we weren’t yelling at each other, of course.