Lovers' Dance

by Carr, K

  “I—you—uhnhrg.” He groaned incoherently as the spasms of his climax slowed down. Wiping my mouth, I went back to my sitting position and stared at him. I loved him like this. Spent and satisfied, with that almost dreamy expression on his features.

  Matt rolled his head to the side, peering at me through thick lashes. “I should go away more often,” he murmured.

  I shook my head in mock anger, and he crooked his index finger at me. Seconds later, I was nestled in the curve of his arm, cheek pressed against his heaving chest. We stayed silent, cocooned in each other’s arms and basking in the glow of mutual fulfilment. With the back of his hand he stroked along my jaw; once, twice, then sank his hand into my hair with an audible sound of contentment.

  “Poppet.”

  “Mhmm.” I pressed a kiss to his warm flesh and inhaled deeply. There was something about the way he smelt, his scent triggered something inside me, something that turned me into a besotted fool.

  “What time are you due in the studio?” he asked, fingers massaging my scalp.

  I buried my face in his chest. “I should be in for around seven-ish.”

  “It’s gone four am. Why don’t you go in later? I’m not in the office today, and we could have a lazy morning.”

  As enticing as that sounded I had work. “I can’t, Matt. Things are manic at the studio, and I’m already down a week because I have to go home for Thanksgiving.”

  “We have to go for Thanksgiving,” Matt corrected. “Have you decided what day you want us to fly out? I need to let my pilot know.”

  I flicked my tongue over his taut nipple and his hand tightened in my curls. I did it again, and Matt let out a low chuckle that had me glancing up at him.

  “What?” he drawled.

  “You’re sexy with a beard.”

  Matt arched an eyebrow at me. “It’s stubble and what are you trying to imply? That I’m unsexy without one?”

  I rested my chin on his chest and blinked a few times. “No, a different kind of sexy.”

  Matt narrowed his eyes. “It’s going, poppet. Don’t try giving me those puppy dog eyes. Now, when do you want us to fly out?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “This Saturday?”

  Matt grimaced. “Nathan’s and Bella’s engagement party. They’ll never forgive me if we fail to attend.”

  I grimaced, too. “Sunday, then. We leave on the 23rd and come back on the 29th. Do those dates work for you?”

  He gave me a quick nod of his head. “I’ll sort it later today. Hannah and Stuart own a condo in Central Park West. They hate staying in hotels when they travel to the States with the twins. Do you want us to stay there or at a hotel—”

  “I’ll be expected to stay at Aunt Cleo’s,” I advised with reticence, forget the fact his sister owned a place in the upscale Central Park West area. Matt’s eyebrows shot up, and I tried to smile at him. It was more a sickly sort of pout. I continued. “I don’t have my apartment back home anymore, and she’ll expect me to stay with them.”

  Matt rubbed his temple while exhaling slowly. “I see. You have told your family I’ll be accompanying you?”

  I avoided his wary gaze.

  Matt’s eyes widened. “Madison. Have you not told them?”

  I sat up, clutching the covers to my chest. “I was thinking of it being a surprise…” My voice trailed off weakly as Matt’s stubble-covered jaw tightened. He did not look happy. I sighed and twisted over to grab my cell from where I’d left it on the bedside table. “I’ll call Aunt Cleo. It’s around eleven thirty pm there. Someone should still be awake.”

  “Good,” Matt said in exasperation. He shot me a disappointed look and slid off the bed. He picked up his discarded towel and wrapped it around his trim waist. “I’m going to get something to drink. Would you like anything, Madison?”

  I shook my head, trying not to focus on the substitution of my Christian name for his usual “poppet”. Matt was mad, and he had reason to be. It had been weeks since the invitation to accompany me home had been extended to him in my quest to show the man I loved that I actually did love him. Weeks of me finding a reason to avoid notifying my aunt that I would be bringing company. Weeks of me visualizing the many ways things could go terribly wrong.

  With trembling fingers I tapped the screen and made the call. Oh, thank you, Jesus. Answering machine. Deliberating over the wisdom of leaving the message took half a second. I might be a coward, but it was better to let her assimilate the fact via message I was bringing my decade older, white boyfriend home for Thanksgiving. Definitely better.

  I hung up the call, put my phone on the bedside table and slumped against the pillows, head covered by my arms as I groaned in frustration. Matt found me in that position fifteen minutes later.

  “I take it the news didn’t go over well,” he mused, shutting the bedroom door with his foot while balancing a tray of orange juice and croissants.

  I was peeking at him from under my arms as he came over to the bed and placed the tray next to me.

  “It’s fine,” I mumbled. “I left a message.”

  “A message?” he asked, and a quick check confirmed the twin eyebrows of doom were lowered.

  “I guess they must be sleeping,” I said, uncovering my face and smiling at him. “Are those croissants for me?”

  Matt nodded.

  “The orange juice, too?”

  He nodded. “To replenish the energy you lavished upon me.”

  I grinned and reached over for the orange juice. “What are you going to do with your day off, hon?”

  Matt got back in bed, minding the tray with a cautious eye. He was a bit undecided when it came to eating in bed, but he let me do so without complaint.

  “Work,” he said blandly.

  I frowned, knowing he would be doing exactly that and not liking the thought. Matt took extremely good care of himself. The man had a physique that would make a Greek warrior weep with envy. He ate well and worked out.

  But he worked hard, and it was a stressful job he had. Being co-president of his family’s empire was consuming. Constant and consuming. Maintaining their wealth and power was a mantle that had been passed to him and Adam from the hands of their father and, of course, Grumps.

  He worked hard and it worried me immensely. Stressed out business tycoons had strokes all the time, even if he was only thirty-seven.

  “No, you’re not.” I put the juice back down and scowled at him.

  Matt arched an eyebrow at me. “I’m not?”

  I shook my head vehemently, tangled curls whipping about my face. Matt reached out to finger my hair.

  “You work too hard, Matt.”

  “And you don’t?” he shot back with a teasing glint in his piercing eyes.

  “It’s different,” I said quietly, and he snorted under his breath. I could already see it: Matt on some hospital bed, hooked up to machines. “I don’t want you to have a stroke,” I blurted out, then looked away immediately. A few charged seconds followed my outburst before Matt started chuckling. I twisted my head back to glare at him.

  “It’s not funny.”

  He laughed harder.

  “Stop laughing at me. I’m worried about you and all you can do is laugh. You’re so immature.”

  He fell back against the pillows, clutching his washboard stomach, and his deep laughter continued to fill the room, while I steadied the tray to avoid a mess. After another five minutes of him laughing his ass off and me fuming, he took a few deep breaths and rubbed his eyes.

  “Oh, poppet. I do love you so,” he choked out. “I’m not going to have a stroke.”

  I gave him a sceptical stare and his mouth quivered.

  “I promise not to have a stroke for at least twenty years,” he assured me with a wink. “By then, you’ll probably be glad to get rid of me.”

  I huffed at him, secretly pleased he thought we would be together in twenty years and, at the same time, worried he was working himself into an early grave. I couldn’
t imagine my life without my crazy gazillionaire.

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” I warned, before picking up a croissant and nibbling the edge. Matt’s eyes zoned in on my lips, and I knew from the gleam in them he was thinking naughty things.

  He rubbed his chin, then rubbed it a bit harder with an irritated expression on his features. My new, rugged Matt wouldn’t last the day. I was certain the moment I left for work he would shave it off.

  “Are we okay?” he asked abruptly.

  I stopped chewing and swallowed, unsure of what he was referring to. Matt saw the confusion on my face and gave me a twisted smile.

  “We’ve not discussed last Tuesday,” he said.

  The Skype tiff. I shrugged my shoulders, forcing a lightness to my voice that I didn’t feel. “We’re fine, Matt. Forget about it.”

  Matt scrutinized my face for a full minute. It felt like the longest minute of my life. I resented when he did this. Resented it immensely because he always seemed to figure out exactly how I felt. I couldn’t win against this calculating stare of his. If I broke the shared gaze, he would know something was up. If I held his gaze, like I was doing now, he would still know something was up.

  I couldn’t win.

  “Don’t do that,” he said softly. “No secrets. Remember? Let’s clear the air over what happened.”

  Damned mind reader. I sighed and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me.”

  “Honestly?”

  Matt nodded at my question.

  I pulled my knees up and rested my arms over them. “I was annoyed, Matt. Really annoyed but, like I told you, if you don’t want me speaking to Dougie,” I narrowed my eyes at him, “who, by the way, is a nice person, I won’t do it.”

  “I’m glad we’re now in agreement,” he said with a forgiving smile.

  My blood started to boil. This was why I had pushed our heated argument to the back of my mind. Now he was looking at me like that. Like some great lord who had granted clemency to a misbehaving subject.

  “Are you?” I asked casually. “You’re glad?”

  Matt nodded slowly, eyes searching my face. He chewed his lower lip and sat up a bit straighter. Obviously he’d picked up on the simmering vibes I was giving off, and he was getting ready, going into battle mode. He was an ace at reading me.

  “Poppet,” he began, but I held a hand up, silencing him.

  “Matt.” I took a deep breath. “Have you realized that bar Nathan and Bella, none of your friends truly have any interest in getting to know me?”

  He opened his mouth to dispute my statement and my hand went up for the second time. Surprisingly, he kept quiet. Wow. Twice in a row? I was on a lucky roll here.

  “I mean, when you’re with me, they are welcoming but, once I’m on my own, they turn away after a while, move off to other groups.” I sighed. “I know they’re not deliberately trying to be awkward, at least I hope not. It’s just…I know they believe they have nothing in common with me, and I don’t blame them because it’s painfully true. I’m nowhere near the financial bracket of the people you introduce me to. I didn’t attend the same schools, I’m not a member of the private clubs you all frequent, I don’t work in the same field as the majority of your friends and associates, I don’t indulge in the same leisure activities you do…I’m…they see me as your current girlfriend who probably won’t be around in a year’s time. Why would they want to get to know me? It would be a waste of their time.” I peered at him with a brave smile on my face. “Dougie’s not like that. He’s fun to talk to. I don’t feel as if I have to put on airs and graces with him—”

  “I’ve never expected you to be anything but yourself,” Matt said.

  “I know, Matt, I know.” My smile wavered. “But the expectation is there.”

  Matt picked up the tray, half turning his body so he could place it on the floor. When he faced me, it was with a conflicted face as he admitted, “I’m jealous. Bloody hell. I’m jealous of any man who holds your attention other than myself. I can’t help it, and I won’t apologize for it. You’re mine and mine alone; no other man will touch you like I do.” Those intense grey eyes of his were filled with staunch determination as he spoke, stating his fervent claim to my person. “And I know McGregor wants to get in your knickers.”

  I smacked him on the arm, hard. He winced, but gave me defiant eyes.

  “Gee, thanks,” I said scornfully. “Thanks for reducing me to nothing more than a piece of ass. It couldn’t possibly be that Dougie likes me as a person. Oh, no, the only possible reason has to be him wanting to get a leg over.” At Matt’s raised eyebrows, I added, “Liam taught me that British slang.”

  The man I loved ran a hand through his hair and sighed loudly. “Poppet, the night you met him, I saw the way he looked at you. I’m a man and I know exactly what he was thinking. You’re inexperienced in these things. You’re my sweet virgin, my woman,” His gaze hardened. “And I’ll be damned if I stand by and watch another man try to weasel his way into your life.”

  I tried not to get upset over his words, but the inexperienced comment made me want to smack him. He popped my cherry. He was my first boyfriend, but I wasn’t some sheltered princess who had no concept of male/female interactions.

  “And what does it matter the way he looked me?” I asked curtly. Matt gave me an unhappy frown. I forged on. “What matters is the way I look at him.” I slipped my hand over his and squeezed. “I can never look at another man the way I look at you, Matt. You assume he wants to get in my panties. I don’t, but that isn’t the point. I don’t give a shit which man wants me. The only man getting these panties is you. Only you.”

  The frown on his face lessened, not gone completely, but not as unhappy.

  I squeezed his hand again, wanting him to understand, needing him to understand. “Sometimes I feel lonely in your crowd. I get that you can’t be with me for every second, but I’m trying my hardest to establish some form of common ground with the people you socialize with and, so far, I keep drawing a blank. Don’t get me wrong, I’m quite capable of fending for myself in a social setting. It’s just that…” I let go of his hand and bit my lower lip before saying out loud something I hated thinking about, but we both had to face it if we were to move forward. “I’m not one of you, and sometimes it’s difficult knowing that I don’t belong.”

  Matt grabbed my hand and it was now him giving the squeeze of support. “You belong with me. Wherever we are, you’ll always belong with me. Do you see this?” He held our entwined hands up. His white skin contrasting with my dark brown, his large hand almost swallowing my dainty one. “We have to hold on to each other, poppet.”

  I nodded, drowning in the heady pull of his eyes. “Okay, Matt.” I brought our entwined hands to my lips and kissed his knuckles.

  Matt jerked me into his arms. “I’m going to prove to you once more that you are mine, Madison, and you do belong.” He lowered his mouth to mine, a hair’s breadth between us. “You belong to me, never forget that.”

  I could feel the warmth of his breath like a sweet caress over my lips. “And you belong to me, Matt.”

  He slanted his lips over mine, pushing me down to the mattress and I knew I was going to be late for work. Really late…

  <><><>

  Matt smiled at his elder sister and brother-in-law. Hannah was recounting the latest battle with Trouble. Natalia was truly trying her mother’s patience. Matt remembered the time when she was as sweet as her twin sister. It felt like yesterday those two would toddle behind him, arms eagerly outstretched as they demanded to be picked up. He absent-mindedly patted his pocket, checking the keys to his sister’s Central Park West condo were there. The engagement party was in full swing. The Walthamstow family home in Berkshire was overflowing with guests and the staff hired to serve looked harassed. Matt let his attention drift as his eyes searched for Madi. Soon enough he spotted her, frowning up at Adam, who was obviously teasing her, if the devious amusemen
t on his face was anything to go off. Matt’s gaze slowly travelled her delectable body. The soft yellow and black cashmere dress she wore was clinging in all the right places, and he was entranced with the contrast of the colour against her chocolate skin. He inhaled raggedly, needing the influx of air to appease the sudden feeling of light-headedness he always got when observing her. He watched as she playfully smacked Adam on his arm and he shook his head slightly, finding their behaviour comical. She had the strangest effect on people. Adam was not one for playfulness, yet there he stood, allowing Madi to ruffle his dark brown hair into a state of disarray.

  Matt sipped his drink, partially listening to Stuart drone on about the difficulties of being a surgeon. His parents were somewhere about, their reserved greeting towards Madi had irked him. A tired sigh whispered past his lips as he saw Adam being drawn away by a couple, leaving Madi with a quick wave. Instead of going to her side, Matt remained with Hannah and Stuart. He’d been watching her interaction with the guests for the past couple of hours, and it pained him to see that she had been absolutely right in her assessment of their attitude towards her. The conversation they’d had on his return from the Netherlands replayed itself in his mind. She was trying to fit in, desperately trying he noted as she turned to a new group of people and, with a warm smile on her face, began to converse with the person closest to her.

  Seven minutes. That was how long she managed to hold up the conversation before the group broke up and the others meandered away from her. A flicker of disappointment danced across her features before she forced a bright smile to her face and twirled the barely drunk flute of champagne between her slender fingers. Matt glanced at his watch. It was getting late and they were due to fly out in the early hours of Sunday morning. He turned to his sister and her husband.

  “I’m going to grab Madi, say our goodbyes to the happy couple and head home,” he murmured, handing his glass over to one of the waiters moving past them. “Thanks for the keys, Hannah, and give the twins my love.”

  “Matty.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm.