Debra Webb - In His Touch Box Set (Here To Stay, Up Close, Tempting Trace, Basic Instincts)

by Debra Webb

  “Don’t move.”

  Abby glanced up. Matthew was scrutinizing her from head to toe. “What is it?”

  “I want to draw you,” he murmured, distracted. “Don’t move,” he said again when she would have turned to face him more fully. “I want you just like that.”

  If she wanted him to open up, she needed to be cooperative, she supposed. She stood in front of a long window, her profile under his intense scrutiny. The sun pouring from the glass warmed the silk covering her body. Her robe had slipped off her left shoulder. Quickly she reached to pull it up and Matthew shook his head.

  “Leave it like that.”

  He reached for a sketchpad and Abby’s throat parched. There was something incredibly attractive about the way the faded denim moved with his body. Muscle flexed and contracted beneath the soft material.

  And then there was the way he looked at her, with such intensity. As if he could see deep inside, and touch her there. It was at that precise instant she knew she could never be impartial where Matthew was concerned. No way would she be able to maintain the professional distance as she’d promised herself the entire week.

  Imprisoned by feelings she couldn’t begin to label, she couldn’t move... she could scarcely even breathe. She could only stand perfectly still while Matthew’s gaze caressed her as intimately as the hand of a longtime lover. Never taking his gaze off her, he seated himself on the arm of the sofa, sketchpad and pencil in hand, and began to draw.

  ~*~

  Abby stood absolutely still and watched Matthew’s slow, sensual movements as his hand progressed over the sketchpad. She didn’t know how long she’d been standing there, or how the drawing was coming along. She only knew she couldn’t take her eyes off him. All week she’d watched those talented, capable hands repair and restore. She’d imagined a thousand times over how they would feel against her skin, his fingers tracing every outline of her body. Her breath became shallow and heat poled between her thighs as desire sang through her veins. She wanted to categorize and memorize each and every part of him. Even his scent was already permanently imprinted in her memory, made her ache to taste him.

  He stood finally, smiled down at his work, then lifted his gaze to her. “You want to take a break? I’m almost finished.”

  Abby couldn’t slow the renewed desire rushing though her body at his coming nearer. How could he not know the effect he was having on her at this very moment?

  “Would you like to see?” He stopped, mere inches from her, and displayed his work.

  She accepted the pad, but immediately set it on the nearby table. “It’s wonderful,” she whispered.

  He frowned. “You didn’t even look at it.”

  “Later,” she managed in spite of the emotions paralyzing her ability to reason. She was too far gone to pretend any longer. With trembling hands, she reached out to touch his chest. Touching his bare skin sent another wave of white hot heat washing over her.

  Matthew stood stock-still while she explored the amazing contours of his torso, the rounds of his arms, the ridges of his taut stomach.

  She heard him whisper her name as he lowered his head. Gently he brushed his lips against hers, sending an explosion of sensations shattering through her. Then he drew back, leaving her lips empty, longing for more of him.

  His gaze moved slowly from her lips to her eyes. “We shouldn’t do this.” His warm, coffee-scented breath whispered across her sensitized lips. “You can’t stay... I can’t go. There’s no future in whatever this is.”

  Abby tiptoed and nipped at his lower lip, then smiled. “But we do have right now.”

  He groaned as her arms slid around his lean waist. “I don’t think—”

  “Don’t think, Matthew,” Abby whispered against the pulse throbbing at the base of his throat. “Make love to me.”

  He pulled her against him then. The feel of his chest tantalizing her breasts through the thin silk, making her body ache to feel all of him against her—flesh to flesh. He held her tightly, his hands tracing her shape. Abby could feel his heart pounding in his chest, could hear the unevenness of his breath. His fingers fumbled with the sash of her robe. When it was at last loosened, he eased back a step, tugging the robe off of her shoulders so that it flowed down to puddle around her ankles.

  “You’re so beautiful, Abby.” His gaze swept over her nude body and up to her face. A smile of approval touched his lips. He lowered his head to hers then and traced her lips with his tongue. “I want you so much.”

  Leaving her mouth to burn for more, he moved down to caress her neck... her shoulders... leaving a trail of flames. With each kiss he whispered words of need and desire, while his skilled hands acquainted themselves with every part of her. He pulled her into his arms again, crushing her to him with the force of his rising need. Then claiming her mouth with his own, he kissed her long and deep.

  Abby savored his special taste, the feel of his hard body against hers, the thrill of his kiss, slow, thorough. Matthew lifted and carried her the few steps to the sofa. Gently he eased her down, all the while showering her with more kisses.

  Frantic to touch him more intimately, Abby stroked his arousal through the faded denim. Matthew groaned harshly, the sound echoing inside her mouth. She wanted to touch him all over, to feel his weight on her, but he resisted, hesitating to do what she wanted him to. His hand closed around her breast. His lips trailed over her skin, leaving a path of erotic sensation, until his mouth closed over her erect nipple. He sucked long and hard.

  Abby held back a moan. Pure passion throbbed within her now, as her fingers found his zipper and fumbled with it. She could feel his erection straining against the denim.

  “Wait,” he murmured against the shell of her ear, his breath ragged. “We need to slow down or this is going to be over before it starts.”

  But she couldn’t wait. A need too long denied was spiraling out of control inside of her. She needed him now. “I can’t wait,” she urged, pushing her hands inside his jeans. Abby moaned at the feel of him in her hands. Matthew’s eyes closed with the pleasure-pain she knew her touch evoked. He was a big man, hard and pulsing. Her feminine muscles clenched in response.

  Frantic now, she pushed his jeans over his hips and arched to meet him. In a move designed to drive her crazy, he rubbed his full arousal against her, once, twice, then a third time. Another wave of need seized her.

  “Hurry, Matthew,” she demanded, unable to tolerate a moment more of this torture.

  Wrapping her legs around his, Abby opened to him, and in one long, slow thrust he pushed inside her and started to move. Abby clutched his strong shoulders, her nails digging into his hot flesh. Climax came hard and fast, wrenching a cry from her that sent him over that same edge. He rolled to his side and pulled her against him. He held her that way for long minutes, as if he couldn’t risk letting go.

  She caressed his strong, sweat-dampened back. Holding him closer to her heart than she’d ever held anyone before, feeling him pulse inside her in the aftermath of his powerful climax, reality hit Abby with a sudden clarity. She’d just given herself to this man, body and soul. A man with whom she could never allow herself to fall in love.

  Never.

  As if she had somehow telegraphed her thoughts, Matthew drew back and looked into her eyes.

  “How will I ever let you go, Abby Wade?”

  How would she ever go?

  Chapter Eight

  Abby watched Matthew play touch football with his firehouse buddies, and considered the situation. Was it possible that she was in love? Or was it...

  Just sex, that’s all it could possibly be. Going without physical release for too long wasn’t healthy. And, of course, if the sex was really good then that was all the better for both parties.

  But good didn’t begin to describe sex with Matthew. A pay raise was good; having an umbrella in a rain storm was good. Sex with Matthew was out of this world.

  But that didn’t change anything. She would be on h
er way back to New York soon enough, and Matthew would stay here in Salem, enjoying everything a small town had to offer—which would never be enough for her.

  By the end of the year she would be promoted at Up Close. She had a great apartment overlooking Central Park. The apartment had been a graduation gift from her father, but it still counted as an asset. She had an IRA that would make anyone green with envy, thanks to him, and she made pretty good money for an up and coming magazine reporter.

  She had a great life.

  In a great city.

  What did these people have? Salem, population—not nearly enough. Not that Abby had anything in particular against small towns; they just weren’t busy enough. She loved activity. The rush of noise-filled air from the subway stations. The almost harmonious beeping and honking of car horns during rush-hour traffic. Even blaring sirens and urban crowds made her feel like she was a part of something alive and vibrant.

  She thrived on the stress and energy that others complained about while lying on the couch in their psychiatrists’ offices. High powered meetings, impossible deadlines, designer caffeinated beverages—those were the things that gave her a high.

  She didn’t need kids, and she sure didn’t need a husband.

  Instantly, Matthew’s tall, well-built frame came into focus. He’d turned his baseball cap around backwards, which looked dorky on most guys, but on him it was appealing. His long fingers clasped the football as he prepared to toss it to his teammate. The memory of how those fingers could create such beauty in his drawings or touch her body so exquisitely made Abby shiver despite the hot July weather. Even participating in a testosterone-fueled sport, his every move did funny things to her insides.

  Abby sighed. How had she let this happen? She’d never felt this... this heartsick over anyone before in her life—not even with Cal, her short-term husband. Truth be told, she hadn’t really even loved him. Respected him, admired him, yes. But love?

  No.

  Abby looked away. She didn’t want to feel this. Love was probably overrated anyway. She’d given marriage a go once, and what had she gained? A humiliating divorce.

  Nothing was ever what it appeared. She and Cal had dated during her last year at NYU. They had seemed so compatible. Same career interests, same life goals. Even the same five-year plan. So, they’d gotten married. The first few months were great. But six months into the marriage Cal had done a complete turnaround. “Let’s have a baby!” he had announced. When Abby had been less than enthusiastic—after all, it wasn’t his five-year plan that having a child would have wrecked—dear old Cal had found someone more willing.

  The next time Abby had seen Cal, he’d been pushing a baby carriage. All smiles, with his little wife in tow.

  Not ever again. She was tired of men trying to change her. She knew what she wanted from her future. No one—not her father or a husband—was going to dictate her life.

  “Abby, could you hold Lucy for a minute? I’ve got to find my son.”

  Abby stared, open-mouthed, at the stranger who’d just thrust her infant into her arms. The woman dashed away, calling “Johnny!” at the top of her lungs. Abby’s gaze dropped to the squirming baby girl in her arms. All blond curls and big brown eyes, the little girl—Lucy—smiled a big toothless grin up at Abby. She almost smiled back, then she panicked. What if the baby started to cry? What if she got hungry?

  Abby made a face. What if little Lucy barfed on Abby’s silk dress? She crinkled her forehead. Or worse?

  Cooing and gurgling with delight, Lucy reached for a handful of Abby’s hair.

  “No, no, Lucy,” Abby scolded softly as she pried the chubby little fingers from around a handful of hair. She bit back a gasp of pain as several long auburn strands were yanked from her scalp. She manufactured a smile for Lucy while she untangled the loose hairs from her baby fingers.

  “Oh, there you are, dearie!”

  Abby cringed. Aunt Martha. Why had she let Matthew rope her into coming to this family reunion? Abby already had all the research material she needed. The cover story was practically written. Of course, considering that he’d asked her while their bodies were still entwined as one, she supposed that she had a legitimate excuse: temporary insanity.

  “Richard, this is the nice young lady from New York that I was telling you about,” Martha said conspiratorially to the short, slim man at her side. “Abby, don’t you just look adorable with a baby in your arms?”

  Abby almost groaned aloud. “Hello, Martha.”

  Martha patted her stiff hairdo. “Abby, this is Richard.” She shot Abby a pointed look. “You know, the hairdresser I was telling you about from Clips and Curls.”

  “Yes.” Abby turned to Richard, trying to smile despite Lucy’s roving hands. “Nice to meet you, Richard.” Abby shrieked as pain shot through her ear. She gripped a plump baby wrist and pried those little baby fingers from her left earring. Another stab of pain zinged through her earlobe.

  “Young’uns are so precious, aren’t they?” Martha immediately went into baby mode, cooing and making weird faces.

  Why did full-grown, perfectly sensible—well, maybe Martha was the exception there—people go gaga over babies? Did babies understand baby-talk anymore than they did normal, grown-up talk? Abby didn’t think so.

  “I’d love to give you a makeover,” Richard piped up, speaking to Abby over Martha’s ridiculous noises. “I could do a lot with that hair of yours.”

  Abby bared her teeth. “Thanks anyway, but I have to get back to New York. I’m leaving early—very early—Monday morning.” And I like my hair just as it is, she didn’t add. The thought of turning up with a fried-and-dyed do like Martha’s almost made her shudder.

  Richard cupped his chin and regarded Abby forlornly. “Oh, that’s a real shame.”

  “There’s Henry.” Martha snagged Richard’s arm. “I want Henry to hear about Richard’s new hair-regenerating cream. Henry!” Martha and Richard trotted off in the direction of poor, unsuspecting Henry.

  Abby could see it now. Henry would provide Richard with free dental work in exchange for new hair. The results could be newsworthy—for the National Enquirer, anyway. Lucy started to fret, putting Abby on instant alert.

  “Don’t you do that, ah... Lucy.” She quickly scanned the small park. Where was that woman? “Your mommy will be back for you any minute.”

  Of course Lucy didn’t understand anything Abby said. Her lower lip jutted out and huge tears rolled down her plump little cheeks. Any minute now a wail that would alert everyone for miles to Abby’s lack of skill with children would burst from that toothless little mouth.

  What could she do? Bounce her! Abby had seen people do it before. Bouncing, that was the ticket, she thought with relief as she began an up and down motion.

  Apparently Abby’s bouncing technique left a lot to be desired. Lucy belted out a wail that rattled Abby’s teeth.

  Oh God, she cringed. In about two seconds everyone in the park would be looking at her and Lucy’s mother would come running, demanding to know what Abby had done to her child. She squeezed her eyes shut against the vivid mental image.

  “Hey now, little lady, what’s all the fuss?”

  The sound of Matthew’s voice snapped her eyes open. He scooped the baby out of Abby’s desperate clutches and lifted her into his own strong arms. He cooed and spoke gibberish until Lucy’s tears dried. Mesmerized, both Abby and the baby stared at him.

  How did he do that?

  Abby knew without a doubt that she had never seen anything as beautiful as Matthew Stone sweet-talking a baby. His shirt clung to his body, contouring to every muscle. Her body reacted instantly, suddenly humming with desire.

  Little Lucy and Matthew had the same blondish brown hair. With their heads together, it would have been easy to mistake Matthew for the father of this child. Abby’s chest tightened. The future suddenly flashed before her eyes. Matthew would have a wife and kids someday. That’s what he wanted, and he would have it. Beautiful l
ittle babies with sky blue eyes.

  What woman in her right mind wouldn’t want him? Wouldn’t love to have his children?

  Abby swallowed. Anyone but her. That wasn’t her future. Her future was mapped out on a bulletin board in her home office. These people—Abby surveyed the small, crowded park—this place was not for her.

  She mentally ticked off the things she really needed in this life. Her career. Food and sleep as required.

  She didn’t need Matthew Stone.

  She didn’t need this little town.

  And she sure as hell didn’t need these people.

  As if to refute her claim, Jenny smiled and waved from the swings where she was taking turns pushing Chris and Carlee. Matt Hugh was bickering with Reverend Allgood over the barbeque grill and which of them was actually in charge of the steaks. Richard appeared to be giving Henry an on-site demonstration of scalp cream under Martha’s careful supervision.

  Abby’s vision blurred. Her gaze moved back to the man standing in front of her entertaining the baby. Her throat constricted at the thought of how she felt when they made love. And for the first time in her life, Abby could have sworn she heard the faint sound of a ticking clock.

  ~*~

  Abby definitely needed her head examined.

  She’d actually cried today. Sought refuge in the park’s restroom and cried like a baby.

  Hormones. It had to be hormones. According to her birth control disc, her period was due next week.

  PMS.

  That had to be it.

  But she still needed her head examined.

  And she needed mayonnaise. Abby tossed the ham and bread onto the kitchen table and retraced her steps to the refrigerator. She grabbed the mayonnaise.

  What else did she need?

  A new heart. The old one was breaking.

  “Dammit, Abby,” she muttered. “This is not happening.”

  She forced herself to focus on the contents of the refrigerator. Lettuce and tomato. Yes, that would do it. After depositing the rest of her sandwich fixings on the table, she twisted the mayonnaise lid with all her might. It wouldn’t budge.