by Carr, K
Through his screen Matt could see the flurry of emotions skip across her face, finally settling on frustration. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, Matt. I don’t know how things work in your world and I’m trying here. It was lunch.”
“Make sure it was the last lunch you have with him. You can’t do these things, Madison. Appearances are important in my world, and your behaviour is not in line with what it should be,” Matt said, in a voice as frustrated as the look on her beautiful face.
“It’s never enough, is it?” she asked, lower lip quivering. “I’m always going to do something outside what is expected of someone with a man like yourself, aren’t I? I’m trying to fit in, Matt, but I wasn’t born into this life. I don’t know the expected etiquette. It was lunch. You don’t think I find it difficult? Being the black girlfriend—”
“Don’t start with that,” he groused. “I’m not in the mood to discuss your feelings of racial inequality.”
“Fine,” she said coldly. “How about we discuss your behaviour, Matt?”
Matt peered at her through his laptop. “I beg your pardon? My behaviour?”
“Yes, Matt. Like the fact you practically forced me into therapy. What? You think because I haven’t said anything that I’ve gotten over what you did?”
Matt ran a hand through his slightly damp hair. “It was for your own good, Madi.”
“I know,” she replied in a tight voice. “I know I need help, but you didn’t ask if I was ready for it. No, you did what you usually do, which is whatever you want to do whenever you want to do it.”
“I’m paying quite a lot for you to get the best help—” Matt stopped when he saw the dangerous expression on her features.
“No, I’m paying for it, Matt. After you ‘ambushed’ me with Dr Brown, my next session I made arrangements to pay her directly.”
“What?” Matt sat up straighter. “But I’ve been sending transfers from one of my personal accounts—”
“That should have been returned. Do you even check these accounts of yours?”
“I will be doing so shortly,” he said in anger. Dr Brown was expensive, and Madi was seeing her twice a week outside normal working hours. It was a few weeks since he’d staged his version of an intervention. He hadn’t expected her to pay for it. This was his way of fixing her.
“You decided for me, Matt. I know you did it because you love me. I love you too.” She looked away from the screen for a moment before swivelling sad eyes back at him. “That’s why I agreed to go along with it, because you were right. I do need help addressing my grief, but you’re like Aunt Cleo in a way.”
Matt’s mouth fell open. What? She had compared him to that aunt of hers?
“You guilt me into things I’m not comfortable with, and I go along with it because I love you. Look, it’s late, and we both have busy days tomorrow. I think it’s wrong that I can’t have an innocent meal with someone who wants to be my friend, but I’ll respect your wishes. Something you rarely do with mine. Try and get some sleep, you look tired. I miss you and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Poppet,” he said, but she ended the video chat before he could say anymore. How the hell had she turned the tables on him? He’d called to warn her about letting McGregor weasel his way into her life and they’d ended up talking about his behaviour? Matt rubbed his chin slowly. He was tired, hungry and tired. Now he was irritated. With a low grumble he began to eat, mechanically chewing the sumptuous food that seemed tasteless somehow as he dwelled on their brief conversation.
Madison DuMont was driving him to the brink of insanity. Matt paused, fork held aloft, wondering if he had been wrong to use the future of their relationship to blackmail her into therapy. He shoved those thoughts away. He had done what was needed and the end justified the means. He would not feel guilty over it.
<><><>
“Mr Bradley, would you like more tea?” The tall, leggy blonde in her form-hugging business suit leaned over him, flashing more than was necessary of her cleavage. She was his temporary secretary while on business. Rachel, his usually dependable Rachel, had been unable to come on this trip. Her father had taken a turn for the worse, and she had gone home to Manchester to be with her family.
Matt barely glanced at the woman, her soft Dutch accent laced with the subtle ‘come hither’ vibes. If she was offering something other than tea, she was talking to the wrong man.
Nathan raised his head from the paperwork in front of him and arched an eyebrow at Matt.
“Yes, please, Sanne,” he said. “And bring us the glide charts of the projected profit figures from the North American subsidiaries, also.”
“Of course, Mr Bradley,” she cooed, pouring him a fresh cup of tea. She turned that bright smile in Nathan’s direction. “Mr Walthamstow, would you like more tea also?”
Nathan nodded and was also subjected to a flash of creamy cleavage. Then she hurried out the room to get the required information.
They spent the rest of the day behind closed doors, having one meeting after another. Some relaxed, others humming with the tension expected from seating a bunch of powerful businessmen around one table who sought to further their interests.
Around eight pm, Nathan stretched his frame in the chair and asked, “Shall we have a spot of dinner when we get back to the hotel or have Sanne order us something, Matt? I’m starving.”
Matt ran a hand over his weary face. He could do with something to eat, and call Madison. It was Friday and he wanted to return to England immediately, but they were scheduled to remain in the Netherlands until the coming Monday. It had already been seven long days since he’d been away, and there were three days left before he could get home.
“We should call it a night, Nathan.”
Nathan gave him a look of mock horror. “What? Finish at a reasonable hour? That’s incredible.”
Matt shook his head and stretched himself. Being seated around tables all day was uncomfortable and the rain outside the windows didn’t help. “We’ll stay late again tomorrow. Let’s have the car brought around so we can get out of here.”
Matt pressed the intercom and ordered Sanne to have their vehicle waiting outside the building for them as they gathered up their briefcases and laptops. His mind wandered to his poppet. They had spoken every day since the tension on Tuesday, yet they hadn’t really spoken, not about their tiff. It reminded him of…God forbid, but it reminded him of his mother and Hannah. The way they would react after an argument, the ‘proper’ way of sweeping it under the carpet and going about life as normal. The rare times he witnessed his parents having words were followed by his mother acting as if nothing had transpired. In fact, come to think of it, most of the women from their world acted like that. Matt had experienced it first-hand with his elitist ex-lovers, and he definitely didn’t want his poppet acting like that. He enjoyed their arguments, the flash of fire in her eyes that let him know he was skating on thin ice and, if he didn’t change tact, he would regret it. Bollocks. She was changing and he didn’t want that. It was an unfortunate by-product of her being in a relationship with someone like him. He had noticed the subtle differences in her during the past few weeks. The way she would pause, thinking about her next words, before speaking. It annoyed Matt. He delighted in the way she used to blurt out whatever she was thinking. It was adorable. Of course, he had initially been pleased over her more poised demeanour when she was on his arm at restaurants or at functions. But, now, it grated on his nerves. She was trying to conform, to be perfect, like the other women she had been forced into interacting with. Her smiles strained when under the flash of camera lights from the media. Her beautiful eyes more and more guarded…being with her had changed him, and now being a part of his world was changing her. Matt felt that his poppet was going to end up with the short end of the stick.
In the car with Nathan he called her, their conversation brief. She was busy, distractedly recounting the dress rehearsal she and the other dancers had that day and advising him th
at the sale of tickets for her upcoming production had been better than she expected. Almost sold out. She had voiced her unease that it may have to do with their public relationship, as they’d never sold tickets that fast before and was annoyed at the thought that reporters might be sneakily buying tickets. Matt had calmed her worry, stating that it would help her company if they were doing as she suspected. It would be free publicity. When he ended the call, he glanced over at Nathan.
“Will Madi be able to make the engagement party next Saturday, Matt? It sounds like she’s swamped. Bella would be upset if she was unable to attend,” Nathan asked, tugging on his seatbelt.
“We’ll both be there, Nathan. You haven’t confirmed what we should get you and Bella as a gift.”
Nathan waved a hand in the air. “I could care less. Don’t see the point to be honest. It’s not like it’s the actual wedding where a gift is expected.”
Matt arched an amused eyebrow at him. “Don’t let Bella hear you saying that. How is she by the way?”
“Fine, busy with work and planning the big day.”
“You have confirmed the date?” Matt asked in a pleased voice.
Nathan nodded, grinning widely. “Three weeks after Franklin’s Swiss adventure. I figured, by the time we fly out to Switzerland, she’d be in need of a break from planning the wedding. She’s got the makings of a bridezilla. Before we left on this trip, I overheard a conversation she was having with the wedding planner. I didn’t know my Bella was capable of making violent threats.”
Matt chuckled. “I’ve always told you, still waters run deep. And Bella appears to be the calmest of us all.”
They shared a knowing look before chatting about inconsequential things. Only a few more days before they could both return home. Matt was counting down each and every hour.
<><><>
Something was scratching my face, dragging me from my slumber. I fought the tendrils of consciousness trying to coax me from my dreams. There was something soft amidst the scratchiness. My brain slowing started waking up. Then I shrieked, instinctively smacking at the scratchiness. Didn’t spiders creep into your mouth when you slept? An urban myth, maybe, but I wasn’t taking the chance. A low grunt came from above me. Spiders didn’t grunt, unless it was some new mutated species that—I opened my eyes, squinting in confusion. Why were the lights on?
“Matt.” I blinked the last hold of sleep away and flung my arms around his neck, yanking him into my sleep-warmed body. His face scratched my neck. The hell? I pulled back against the pillows and peered at him.
“You have a beard,” I said in disbelief.
Matt grimaced and rubbed his cheeks. “I haven’t had time to shave the past couple of days, poppet. It’s just a bit of stubble.”
I ran my hand over his stubble-covered cheeks with wide eyes. He grinned at me. Matt with stubble was a whole new level of sexiness, lending a rakish air to his unbelievably handsome face. Matt with stubble was extremely hot.
“Did you just get home, hon?” I asked, stroking his face, getting used to this new texture. The Matt I knew, my Matt, was clean-shaven. Polished to perfection. This Matt was rugged, kind of wild…hot.
“The car dropped me off fifteen minutes ago. I didn’t want to wake you.” He leaned in to press a kiss to my lips. I giggled at the raspiness against my skin. “But I couldn’t help myself. You looked so inviting, sprawled naked on my bed. Why do you always kick the covers off?” he asked, while kissing along my cheek and venturing down my neck. I giggled and tried to squirm away from his bristles. Matt nuzzled his face in my neck, and I squirmed harder, grabbing his face and trying to hold him off. He laughed at my antics.
“I’ve missed you, poppet.”
“I’ve missed you too, knight,” I replied, and the desire on his face softened at my rarely voiced title for him. I cupped his face and offered my lips for his ravishment, and he wasted no time in doing so. It was different. Stubble kisses were different, but still made my skin tingle.
“Mmm,” He groaned moments later, pulling away slowly. “I’m going to get a shower, shave this mess off my face, then join you in bed.”
I chewed my lower lip. “Do you have to shave?”
He arched an eyebrow at me and I blushed.
“It’s just that, it feels…different,” I explained with a heated face.
Matt’s mouth quirked up at the corners.
“And I doubt I’ll have the chance at—arghahaha.” I squealed as he rubbed his jaw line over my shoulders, then on to my boobs, then my stomach. I got a good grip of his hair and tugged his head upwards before he could venture lower. I wasn’t that used to his facial hair.
Matt winked at me, then slid off the bed as I started pulling the covers back over me.
“I won’t be long, poppet. Don’t fall asleep,” he warned and headed for the ensuite.
Fall asleep? He couldn’t be serious. I hadn’t seen him in the flesh for ten days. I sat up against the numerous pillows, feeling like a fan who was about to be granted an audience with her favourite idol. The dry mouth, sweaty palms, racing heart. Yep, I was in fan mode. I started undoing the braid my hair was in, fluffing my curls out and thankful I had washed it earlier that night. A quick glance at the alarm clock confirmed it was a little before midnight. I chewed my lips, trying to plump them up and rubbed my eyes in case I had sleep goo in them. A necessary check to make sure my breath was fresh and I was ready.
Ready and waiting.
When Matt walked back into the bedroom, he caught me trying out various sexy poses on the bed.
“What are you doing?” he teased, towel precariously low on his hips.
“Getting ready for a long overdue shag,” I explained, eyeing the firmness of his chest and the dark line of hair running down his muscled abdomen, disappearing under the towel. “I am going to break you, Mr Matthew Bradley.” My warning had him licking his lips as he approached his huge bed.
“Are you now?” he drawled, fingering the spot where his towel was tucked in.
“Mhmm,” I confirmed, deciding on a sideways pose with the satin sheets covering the important bits but still showing an enticing amount of my bare dark skin. Matt’s gaze lingered on my bare skin while I ate him up with my eyes.
He licked his lips. “That sounds like a challenge to me. Is that what you’re doing, poppet?” His voice had dropped to a husky whisper. “Are you challenging me?”
I was feeling that stubble look on him and would need to take a picture with my phone once we were done.
“Yes,” I whispered back. “I am.”
Matt smiled. It was the smile I had dubbed ‘panty soaker’. Good thing I wasn’t wearing any at the moment.
“Hmm, you talk a big talk, but you and I both know I’ll have you blushing within five minutes,” he said in that lust-clogged voice of his.
I arched one eyebrow at him, gaze dropping, then slowly traced my lower lip with the tip of my tongue. Matt inhaled sharply and let the towel fall to the floor. It was my turn to inhale sharply and the only word I could think of was exquisite. When I finally dragged my eyes back to his face, the smug smirk on his mouth confirmed I had been drooling—figuratively, of course. I wiped the corner of my mouth, just in case.
“Black girls—” I started.
“—don’t blush,” Matt finished as he got on the bed with the agility of a panther in search of its prey. “I know. Come here, let me make you not blush.”
I reached out for him, letting the covers slip. He inhaled deeply, closing the small distance between us in the blink of an eye. I gasped—part pleasure, part giggle—at the sensation of him kissing my shoulder. I was definitely enjoying the added texture on my skin. A picture was needed, I might never see him with stubble again. But, first, I needed to make good on my threat to break him…
“Give up?” I raised my head to look at Matt. He had a death grip on the headboard. His face was strained with tension, but I could see that spark of defiance in his eyes, even though the clear gre
y had darkened with desire. I let out an exaggerated sigh and lowered my head. With my free hand, I lightly traced the fingers over his flat stomach and I felt the muscles clench beneath my touch as he let out a breathless moan. My other hand was busy, as was my mouth. I could taste he was getting close, and I moaned around his hardness which caused him to jerk upwards. Slowly I dragged my lips over him, and sat back on my legs, holding on to him.
“I can keep doing this all night,” I warned with a little smile. “Concede defeat and you can go to sleep a happy man.”
“Never,” he said gruffly. My little smile became full blown. I was enjoying this battle of wills. “A Bradley”—The movement of my hand caused the hitch in his words. He took a shaky breath and grinned at me—“never admits defeat.”
“I’ve already broken you. Have the guts to accept it,” I drawled, stroking him slowly. I had been trying to get him to admit I’d broken him for the past hour. Bringing him close to orgasm, then pulling him back from the brink of complete pleasure. Matt was stubborn if not anything else. I didn’t think he would hold out this long, and we’d spent the three hours before that sexing like bunnies. Normally you wouldn’t expect someone to keep going after three hours of intense love making, but Matt was a sex machine. I swear, a few times in our relationship I had contemplated feigning sleep to get him to take a break.
“Why don’t you put your sweet mouth back where it belongs?” he cajoled, arching his hips upwards. I chuckled low in my throat.
“I broke you,” I said with confidence.
Matt caught his lower lip between his teeth and nodded once. Good. I lowered my head, tongue swirling over the tip of his hardness.
“God. Poppet, please don’t tease me anymore.” He sounded desperate and I wasn’t a cruel person. I stopped teasing him. There were only two sounds to be heard in the bedroom. The sound of me having a delightful time going down on my knight, and his hoarse cries of pleasure as his body gained release.