Wide blue eyes flashed up to his. "Do you?"
Her response was rather breathless. She was nervous, he decided. A twinge of remorse cut through him, overridden by the ache in his body that was by now almost a physical pain. But no matter what it cost him, suddenly he knew exactly what he had to do.
"We're going to do this your way," he said, smiling at her reassuringly. Then, remembering his words earlier that night, he couldn't resist adding teasingly, "You can touch as much or as little as you want." Still watching her, he leaned back against the pillows.
But he wasn't teasing, and they both knew it. There had been a time when Angie would have thought nothing of taking the lead during lovemaking. But that had been a long, long time ago, she reminded herself.
Consequently, the prospect of doing so with Matt was a daunting one. Daunting, but provocative--and irresistible.
He had removed his jeans, but he was still wearing his briefs, and she was suddenly glad. She edged up slightly so she could look down at him. There was an intimate glow of invitation in his eyes. Encouraged by that glow, she reached out and ran her fingers lightly over the curve of his collarbone, down over keenly honed biceps and back to his chest.
His skin was warm beneath the dense mat of hair that had always intrigued her. In an investigation that was both shy and bold, her fingers sought and found a flat brown nipple surrounded by a wiry nest of hair. In the moonlight she saw his eyes fill with a sublime pleasure. His expression reflected a thousand different emotions. She wanted to exclaim and marvel over each. She heard the ragged breath he drew, felt his chest expand with it and knew a heady sense of power unlike anything she'd felt before. She relished it, savored it, thanked him for it.
Matt felt as if every bone in his body had turned to water. The touch of her hands filled him with a thousand explosive sensations. Her fingers brushed, fondled, raked, teased and taunted as her mouth did the same to his lips. When a single finger pursued a relentless path downward from his throat to his navel, his heart beat a driving, pounding rhythm.
It skipped a beat when her finger paused for an unending, breath-stealing moment... then resumed its journey, tugging at the waistband of his briefs.
All his good intentions disintegrated. He couldn't help himself as he shifted his weight and crushed her body beneath his. It was sweet agony as her nipples burned twin peaks of fire into the hardened wall of his chest. But he forced himself to hold her, just hold her until the faint tremor in his limbs began to subside. He stared into her eyes for a long, breathless moment. Then his head slowly lowered.
Angie sighed as his mouth touched hers, at first the touch so reverent that she felt tears glaze her eyes. She felt him smile against her mouth, and for a heart stopping second she thought he had changed his mind. But soon the light grazing of his lips against hers became more urgent. His kiss deepened, and her lips parted in response. Her tongue flirted with the daring invader that breached the barrier of her teeth, joining in an intricate mating that left both of them gasping.
"God, Angie." The words came out hoarsely, wrenched from deep inside of him. "I want you so much... so much." That need was magnified a hundredfold in the rawness of his voice.
She could feel the tautness in the arms that held her, in the velvet-and-steel fullness riding against her belly. At the thought the apex of her womanhood tingled with a heavy warmth.
Touching. Kissing. Caressing. Soon it wouldn't be enough, for either of them. She didn't care.
She drew away just enough to gaze up at him with shining eyes. "Make love to me, Matt." She caressed his roughened jaw with fingers that weren't entirely steady. "Make love to me."
This time there would be no stopping, and they both knew it. As if they had all the time in the world, Matt began to kiss her. Slowly. Leisurely. At every possible angle, in every possible way he had ever dreamed of.
When he did finally raise his head, it was to unhurriedly tug at the sleeves of her gown. She mindlessly obeyed his whispered instructions, and her eyes drifted shut as Matt slid the material down to her waist.
Her skin burned wherever he touched—the outward flare of her hips, the slender length of her thighs. And when her body lay bared to him, her eyes flickered open, anxiously awaiting his verdict.
He wasted no time in giving it. "You're beautiful," he breathed, extending a finger toward her breasts.
When he merely traced the deep cleft between their burgeoning fullness, Angie wanted to moan her frustration. The feeling quickly transformed into a delicious sense of anticipation as he settled his hands on her waist and slowly lowered his head.
His breath caressed her first. She felt its moist warmth like the first faint whispery wings of night. Her senses heightened by the deep, emotional pull between them, a ripple of pure sensation curled through her when his mouth finally closed over the aching peak. It built to a feverish pitch as he bathed the quivering bud of her nipple with moist heat. The same careful attention was applied to her other breast, and her world exploded into a million shattering sensations as he began a rhythmic tugging.
Never in her life had she felt more beautiful, more desirable, more alive. She wanted his mouth on hers, his tongue making wildly delicious magic with her own. She wanted his hands on her breasts, to feel him stroke the secret fire hidden deep inside her. She wanted his weight pressing into her, to feel him deep inside her to fill the empty void that cried out for him.
"Please, Matt," she begged. "Come to me. Come to me now."
Firm lips swallowed her husky entreaty. With a moan of sheer pleasure, Matt settled her bare breasts into the dark cloud of hair on his chest. Strong hands slipped under her buttocks, lifted, aligned his hips between the intimate cradle of hers.
The velvet strength of him sank slowly into moist, flowering petals of femininity. Matt closed his eyes at the incredible sensations bombarding him as her satin warmth surrounded him, made him whole. She was his... his at last.
Mindlessly he tangled his fingers in her hair. His eyes flicked open, and he stared into passion-drenched eyes. His voice stole softly through the silence. "I love you, Angie... I love you."
Then they were together, together with nothing between them. Hands touched and caressed; lips blended and merged. Her pleasure was his and his was hers as their hips indulged in a dance as old as time itself.
Higher they climbed, ever higher, to a blissful place where hearts ran wild and free.
And then they were no longer two, but one. One body. One soul... One heart.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Some time later Matt awoke. An oppressive heaviness hung in the air. Through the sheer ruffled curtain he saw that the night was starless. The heavens loomed dark and menacing. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the storm clouds with an eerie silver glow for the space of a heartbeat.
He had expected to awake with Angie still slumbering in his arms, but he was alone. A cold sense of foreboding swept over him, and slipping on his pants, he went in search of her.
He found her in the dining room. She was sitting on the window seat, clutching a small patchwork pillow to her breast and staring out into the stark blackness of the night. She had slipped on a thin robe, and just imagining the honey-tinted sheen of her skin sent an electrifying rush of awareness through him.
But his intuition was right after all. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
She looked so lonely. There was a remoteness in the smooth lines of her profile that had him twisted in knots. He wanted to go to her, to take her in his arms and soothe her, comfort her as he had done once before that night. A flash of lightning lit up the room as bright as day, and he took a single step forward. She must have sensed his eyes upon her because she turned then.
The haunting bleakness in her eyes stopped him cold. He leaned a hand against the doorframe. "Can't sleep?" he asked quietly.
She shook her head and sat up straighter. He sensed she was gathering her courage.
Outside the wind beg
an to howl. A pelting rhythmic rain began to fall against the windowpanes. In the corner a clock ticktocked.
The silence spun out between them. Matt waited... and waited. A sickening feeling of dread gathered in the pit of his stomach.
Finally Angie looked across at him. With the enveloping cloak of darkness, he had no way of knowing she'd spent the last hour fighting back tears—--and not always succeeding. But there was nothing in her voice, no hint of emotion whatsoever as she said, "I'd like you to leave in the morning, Matt."
Matt couldn't quite control the fiery mist of anger that burned before his eyes. After all they had shared this night, she might have been a stranger. Her words were like a slap in the face.
His jaw clenched. "Why?" he demanded.
"Everything's been fine this weekend," she murmured. "The note—must have been a prank." She prayed he wouldn't see how difficult this was for her. "I don't see the necessity of having you stay any longer, so you needn't bother coming home with me after work tonight."
Matt's expression was stony. It irritated him that she pretended to misunderstand his question. His eyes never left her slender silhouette as he reached out to switch on the light. "It's not like you to beat around the bush, Angie. Why don't you just say what you mean? This is goodbye, isn't it?" His lips twisted bitterly. "In other words, it's been nice but don't come back."
Angie cringed at the mockery in his voice. His reaction was understandable; he was hurt and angry, and he was lashing out. "Please, Matt." She clutched the pillow she held even more tightly, as if it would somehow ease the dyll ache in her breast. "This isn't easy for me. Just... just let it go."
The pleading in her voice cut him to ribbons, but there was a part of him that was furious with her for being so blind, so stubborn. Had last night proved nothing to her? They had been from hell to heaven, but it was a journey they had made together.
It should have counted for something... everything.
It was totally incomprehensible to Matt that last night had done no more than bring them full circle.
He took a deep breath to control his seething emotions, before he could speak. "Why are you doing this?" he asked intently. "You know how I feel about you. Do you really expect me to walk out the door and forget about you?" His eyes never wavered from her face. Softly, deliberately, he said, "We made love last night, Angie. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
Her eyes darkened with the pain he was inflicting. "It was a mistake, Matt." But did she really believe that? She didn't know. Dammit, she didn't know! And that uncertainty was tearing her apart. Still, making love with Matt had opened her eyes as nothing else could have. She loved him. She wanted to give him everything. But her love was not so blind as it had once been with Evan. And she was afraid. So very afraid of trusting that deeply again.
"It was a mistake," she repeated, her voice barely audible. In her heart she knew it was herself she was trying to convince. "It should never have happened. I know I wanted you...but I...I wasn't myself." She was making excuses; they both knew it.
It didn't stop Matt from feeling he'd been stabbed in the back. It was instinct, pure and simple, that made him want to react with anger, to show her that no matter what she said, her body wouldn't lie.
Yet somehow he damped down his own emotional upheaval and reminded himself of the anguish she had suffered in the last twenty-four hours... and what she had suffered with Evan Hall.
She needed him. She needed him as much as he needed her.
He moved slowly across the room until he was standing directly in front of her. He ached with the need to gather her close in his arms, but he sensed she would only turn away.
"I love you—" he began.
"Don't!" she cried sharply. "Don't say that again!"
It was those three simple words that had driven her from her bed and from the warm shelter of his arms. "I love you," he'd whispered between slow, mindless thrusts while he'd made love to her. She had listened with her heart and loved him with all her soul, but now those words had shattered her world.
She felt herself coming apart inside, but there was no stopping him. When she would have reached up to cover her ears, Matt's hands came out and held hers firmly at her sides, his grip unyielding but not hurtful.
"I love you," he continued quietly, as if she'd never spoken. "I love you and I want to spend the rest of my
life with you." He paused for the space of a heartbeat. "I want you to marry me, Angie."
Angie couldn't look away from him. She could have wept from the depth of emotion in his voice, the tenderness in his eyes. Wrenching herself away from him, she jumped to her feet and ran across to the doorway. She wrapped her arms around herself, then slowly turned to face him.
Her lungs burned from the effort it took to hold back her tears. Her heart felt as if it were raw and bleeding. "I can't, Matt. Don't you see?"
"No. No, I don't." His eyes narrowed. "You love me, Angie."
"I never said that!" she cried wildly. She hated herself for the look of pain that flashed across his face, but she forced herself to stand her ground.
Matt had only to remember the way she had clung to him, her body arching beneath his, the sweet magic that had claimed them both, a magic that only came from such tender emotions as love.
It frustrated him deeply that yet again Angie withheld herself from him. Before it had been her thoughts, her feelings. And now? Now it was perhaps the most vital part of all, that which he treasured most of all— her heart.
It was ironic that she refused to say the words. But he decided this was not the time to force her to admit something he already knew.
Instead, he softly urged, "Talk to me,, Angie. Tell me why you won't marry me. Is it because of Evan?" He saw her shiver slightly. His voice deepened to a rough whisper with the emotion that suddenly churned through him. "I'd never hurt you, Angie. Tell me you know that!"
His urgent plea wasn't lost on her. "I know that, Matt," she said quietly, then hesitated. "It's just that one failed marriage in a lifetime is enough. I'm not sure I'm willing to try it again."
Matt had a hard time believing what he was hearing. "You weren't the guilty party," he said curtly. "Evan was. If your marriage failed, it was because of him, not you."
There was a long silence. "Maybe," she finally agreed. "Maybe not." She took a deep breath, fighting for poise. "Even if Evan hadn't—" she struggled over the word "—abused me, I'm not sure our marriage would have lasted. For a long time I put Evan's needs before my own, but once I started working again, I realized that I had to please myself, as well." She gave a short, bitter laugh. "This may be the twentieth century, but a lot of men are jealous of the fact that women are invading their world."
Matt's jaw thrust forward. "And you think I'm one of them? That I'm jealous of your career?"
She met his anger with a steady calm. "Not in so many words. But can you deny that, when you first took the job as police chief, you didn't resent you were working under a woman?"
He cursed himself for the dull red flush he knew was creeping up his neck. He had never dreamed she would throw that back in his face like this. "You're twisting things and you know it."
"I'm not sure that I do," she responded very quietly.
"I won't admit any such thing," he stated flatly. "I'll admit I was a little leery, but I certainly never resented you. And I wouldn't have taken the damn job if I hadn't thought that you were just as capable of doing your own!"
She emitted a weary sigh. "I'm not going to argue with you, Matt. But even if you're right, there's Linda to consider."
"Linda?" He looked totally baffled. "What the hell does she have to do with this?"
"You told me that part of the trouble between you two started when she went behind your back to her father." She hesitated. The closed expression he wore warned her of his reaction. "We're talking about male pride, Matt. You didn't like being unable to buy her little things she wanted."
His eyes narrowed. If she was say
ing what he thought she was... "And?"
"And Evan was like that, too."
The deathly silence that followed was somehow more shattering than a bomb blast. Matt dragged a hand down his face, wondering if this nightmare would never end. There was a painfully hollow sensation in his chest. He had the awful feeling he was about to lose Angie.
"You just said you knew I wasn't like him," he reminded her, his voice low and taut.
"I...I know," she whispered, turning her face aside. Knowing she was responsible for the torment on Matt's face cut into her like a knife.
It didn't make her decision any less agonizing. For all that he was kind and sensitive, he was also a demanding, strong-willed man. Any commitment between them would be total. There would be no half measures for a man like Matt.
"You don't trust me, do you? You don't trust me enough to believe that we could work it out." There was no anger in his voice. Instead, he sounded incredibly weary.
Her gaze flickered back to him. He seemed to have aged years in the space of a few short minutes. "I can't, Matt." Her shoulders lifted helplessly. "And I'm not sure I'll ever be able to." She saw him through a hazy blur of tears. "I never meant to hurt you," she choked out. "Please believe me."
His eyes bored into hers, creating a brittle tension that was almost unbearable for both of them. Time slipped quietly by.
He could have said, "I'll be waiting for you when you change your mind." But he knew, as she did, that she wouldn't change her mind. Instead, he said, "I'll leave in the morning."
His footsteps never faltered as he walked quietly past her.
***
Angie didn't go in to the office on Monday. She asked Georgia to cancel the council meeting. The vote would have to wait. Instead, she spent the day at home, trying to recover from the strain of the past weekend. So much had happened—the note, finding out about Kim, and the agonizing scene with Matt—that for the first time in her life, she wondered how on earth she would cope with it all. But by drawing on some hidden reserve of unknown strength she knew she would manage.
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