“Do what?” he asked, but she kept talking.
“I’m not going to talk about the past. It happened a long time ago and it doesn’t matter, I’ve moved on with my life, without you.”
“I don’t believe you.” And then he reached out and took her hand in his and held it hard. The touch was electric. Warmth spread through her whole body and she felt her heart start to race. She stared for a long time at his face, meshing in her mind the two versions of him. Old Matt and this Matt.
“Believe what you want, it doesn’t matter to me,” she sighed, pushing away the memories that statement brought forward. “Please, let go of my hand, I’m tired and I want to go home.” He didn’t look like he was going to let go, he just kept staring at her as if she was a puzzle he could figure out. “Please, Matt.”
He released her hand. “I’m parked out front. I’ll drive you home.”
“No, thank you.” She’d had about all the quality Matt time that she could handle and would rather walk the entire length of Boston than risk spending more time with him.
“Kate, if you don’t want a scene, just get in the car and let me drive you home.” It was a statement more than a threat, but coming from Matt it got her attention.
This was not the Matt she had known. She had never seen Matt lose control. He had always been calm and in control of everything, but not now. One look at his face told her to listen. His eyes were boring into her, his jaw was clenched, and she saw the small tremor that seemed to be traveling through his body. She looked around the lobby, the fluorescent lights creating an unnatural contrast to the darkness that seeped in through the glass wall from the outside. The atrium was still well populated with hospital staff, sufficient that if a scene did occur, she would be back as the number-one topic for the hospital gossips. That, combined with the look on Matt’s face, that said he just might do it, and her overwhelming fatigue forced her to give in. “Okay.”
She had lost the fight, and her resignation kept her from pulling away when he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her out the hospital’s front entrance. His hand spanned almost the entire width of her back. Even through her coat and sweater she could still feel his warmth and the sense of protection she had always felt around Matt. She was surprised that feeling hadn’t vanished from its association with him.
A car door was being opened in front of her and she got in, barely registering the car’s luxury name and features. Once inside, she sank into the deep pocket of the leather seat. Matt got in the driver’s side and started the engine. The air from the heating system was like warm milk to her exhaustion. He reached over and turned on her seat warmer. She didn’t fight the strong urge to close her eyes, it seemed the better option to having to look at or make conversation with Matt.
She rolled over, her mind barely registering the soft pillow under her head. It wasn’t until she felt the friction of the sheet against her bare abdomen and the weight spanning her body that she realized something was wrong, very wrong. She opened her eyes and found herself looking at an unfamiliar ceiling. It was a high ceiling, white, crossed with dark wooden beams. She didn’t need to look to her side to know what she would find. She had always been able to sense his presence before she actually saw him.
How had she ended up here? She felt vulnerable; she was still incredibly tired, and couldn’t remember how she had ended up at what she knew must be Matt’s apartment. She moved again and processed that she was naked, apart from her bra and underwear. She flushed, both embarrassed and angry that Matt had taken it upon himself to undress her, that she had slept through it all, and, worst of all, that Matt had seen the dark purple lace thong and matching bra that had never been intended for anyone else’s eyes.
Anger became her dominant emotion as she turned to look at Matt, who was asleep on top of the blankets with one arm extended across her. That explained the weight. He was wearing a ragged university T-shirt and jeans and looked too much like the old Matt, her Matt. As if on cue, he opened his eyes, and a few inches away she saw the familiar blue eyes that looked softer than she had seen them since their reunion. Her heart fluttered and she forgot her anger.
He didn’t say anything, and she was too overwhelmed with memories of the past to tear her eyes from his, still trying to understand the man she’d once thought she knew. His eyes didn’t have the answers, only more questions that he seemed to have for her. She watched as he propped himself up on one arm and his other hand moved from her waist to the side of her face, his wide palm spanning her cheek, his fingers in her hair. His eyes changed then, darkening as his pupils widened and his mouth came down on hers.
It started as a soft kiss, his lips brushing against hers. Then he pressed deeper and the pressure of his lips, the stubble brushing against her face, his hand pulling her towards him, was all-encompassing. She opened her mouth in shock and felt his tongue slip inside as he deepened the kiss. Instantly she was on fire, she could feel, smell, taste everything about him, and it inspired a passion that she hadn’t felt in so long. She felt alive. She felt like herself.
Her arms reached up to wrap around him, her sudden movement causing him to move on top of her and crush her. The weight of his body on hers heightened her desire; he felt incredible and she responded to his kiss, her tongue matching his with an increasing sense of urgency. Her fingers were in his hair, pulling him closer and closer, desperately wanting to have no space, no air, nothing between them, nothing that could stop this feeling. She felt a sense of panic when she felt him lift himself from her slightly, but was rewarded when he pulled away the blankets that covered her and came back down on her.
Every part of her body yearned to be touched by him. Her breasts felt heavy and a steady throb pulsed between her thighs. She moved her hands down his wide shoulders and muscular back, feeling his hard muscles tremble in response. She grabbed his shirt in her fists and struggled to pull it over his head, until he sat up and removed the offending garment. She couldn’t stand to be separated from him even for that moment, and sat up to press herself against his kneeling form. He hauled her onto his lap, her legs straddling him. She wrapped her arms around him again, feeling her breasts crush against his chest as much as they could within their constraint.
His hand swept her hair to one side as his mouth came down along the side of her neck. He licked, kissed and tasted the low part of her neck just above her collarbone and she arched her head back in response. She needed more, wanted more, wanted to ease the large ache that was growing inside her, and she moved her pelvis forward and ground into his. She was rewarded as his hard ridge pressed into her. Then she felt a new release as her bare breasts collided against his chest, her bra having been unfastened and pulled away. One hand closed over her breast, his thumb stroking the already erect and sensitized nipple.
The other hand grasped the bare bottom that her thong exposed, trapping her against him and echoing her need to push into him. It quickly became not enough, and he pulled away and bent his head to kiss her breasts, his tongue reaching her nipples, taking time to encircle and draw each into his mouth. She pulled open his jeans, the zipper falling from the pressure of him. Her hand reached in to touch him, and she felt him contract against her.
Two hands then grasped her hips and she was moved from her straddled position. She looked up in shock but the same heat that she felt was mirrored in his eyes. She watched as he removed his jeans and boxers, leaving just him. He was fully aroused and everything about him was masculine perfection. He rejoined her on the bed and gently pushed her onto her back against the pillows. She bent her knees and spread her legs, wanting him between.
His hands tangled in her hair as he returned to kissing her, the head of his shaft now rubbing against the damp purple lace between her legs. It was the best form of torture, one where you wanted to stop because the pleasure was too intense, but at the same time knew the release would be more than worth the progression, and that was what made it unforgettable. His hand skimmed her body
and ventured towards her inner thighs. She felt the lace move slightly, as his finger caressed her crease and pushed inside. She knew she was wet, and even though the penetration was not the part of him she desperately wanted inside her, she still contracted her muscles around him, both for her satisfaction and to tempt him.
It worked, and for the first time since they had awoken, words were spoken. “Oh, God, Katie, I want you so badly,” he whispered against her cheek, breaking from their kiss.
His words, however softly spoken, had the opposite effect on her. Katie, she wasn’t Katie any more. Katie had been the foolish girl who had fallen in love with her best friend and had had her heart broken. Katie was the girl he had walked away from and ignored. The memory of that feeling was the only emotion powerful enough to break her from the path to ultimate fulfillment that she had been on. Instantly she felt vulnerable and weak, and very exposed, which technically she was. Her hands pressed against his chest and she shoved as hard as she could.
“Stop.”
He made eye contact with her, and she wasn’t sure what he saw, but he moved. She scrambled off the bed and headed for the nearest door, praying it was the bathroom.
She closed what thankfully was the bathroom door and pressed her back against it. The dark, empty room calmed her growing sense of panic as she gulped for air, trying to hold back her tears. She looked around, her eyes adjusting to the city night’s light filtering through the frosted window. She was in Matt’s bathroom, virtually naked, only a door separating her and Matt. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t. She had completely lost control; she had almost lost herself in Matt. Again. Self-loathing rose up inside her. She knew better. If anything had come from their last time together, it had been the hard truth that in life the only person she could depend on was herself, and tonight she had let herself down.
Her hand found the light switch. She blinked rapidly at the brightness and studied the reflection looking back at her in the large bathroom mirror. Her hair was wild, her lips were swollen, her cheeks showed the marks of Matt’s five o’clock shadow, there was a faint mark on her left breast, and she was naked except for her purple thong. She shuddered, looking around the room for something to cover up with, needing to hide the evidence of her mistake. Her eyes fell on Matt’s robe. She hated it that that was her only viable option, but nothing else in the room would provide her the coverage she desperately wanted so it would have to do. The brown terry-towel robe smelled like Matt, but she blocked that from her mind, ran the cold water and splashed it on her face.
Now what? she thought to herself. Naked Matt was on the other side of the door, waiting, probably, for an explanation. He would be waiting a long time for that, because she couldn’t explain how tonight had started and had no intention of telling him why she had put an end to it.
It took another ten minutes before she was ready to leave the room, holding her breath as she opened the door. Folded up in the doorway were her clothes. Her eyes darted around the room. She saw the bed and the tangled sheets, but there was no sign of Matt. She took the clothes back into the bathroom, closed the door and dressed quickly, pulling her hair back with the extra hair tie she found in her jeans pocket. She took a final steadying breath, trying to summon the strength she was going to need to face him.
She found him in the living room, sitting on the couch, his attention fixed on the gas fireplace in the center of one of the walls. He looked up as soon as she came in. He too was fully dressed, not that it mattered as she could still see every contour of his naked body in her mind. It was a battle in her mind between the need to be with him, feel him against her, and the memories that told her to run as fast as she could and never look back. Before she could say anything he was walking towards her, reaching out with her coat and bag in his hand. He passed them over carefully so as not to touch her and gave the impression of not even wanting to be near her.
“I’ll drive you home.” He didn’t sound like himself, but she couldn’t figure out much beyond that. This was not the reaction she had expected, and while she was grateful not to have to replay the details of their encounter aloud, she was also hurt by his dismissal and couldn’t control the accusation in her eyes when she looked at him again.
He misunderstood the look. “I did drive you home earlier, but when we got to your apartment I couldn’t wake you up and couldn’t find your keys to carry you inside. So I brought you home so you could sleep here. That’s it; that’s all.” He sounded defensive and angry. Well, so was she.
“Thank you.” The words were terse. She put on her coat and snatched her bag from his outheld hand. He grabbed his own jacket and unlocked the apartment door.
They traveled in silence down the elevator, into the parking garage and during the entire car ride back to her apartment. At three in the morning traffic was minimal, so the drive was mercifully short. Normally silence like this would be uncomfortable, but she knew talking about what had just happened between them would take discomfort to a whole new level.
Her hand was on the door handle as he pulled up in front of her building and she had the car door open before the vehicle had even come to a full stop. She needed to get away from Matt, she needed time to figure out what tonight meant, if anything. Her foot was on the curb, half-out of the car, when she heard his voice.
“He’s not going to change his mind.” She would have missed the words if it had not been for the dead silence of the night.
It made her pause, settling her body back into the seat. She looked back at Matt, whose hands were still gripping the steering wheel, his gaze focused straight ahead, not looking at Kate. What was he talking about? She slumped further back into the passenger seat, too thrown by his statement not to voice the thought in her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Tate Reed.” By now he had turned to look at her, and she still didn’t understand. The mention of Tate, though, brought a comparison to mind. She hadn’t ever felt with Tate the way she had tonight with Matt. Never so out of control, never so desperate for release, so passionate.
“He doesn’t love you,” Matt stated, almost apologetically, like he was breaking bad news to a client.
It felt like a slap in the face, a reminder of another time long ago. Okay to have sex with but not worthy of love. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to talk about what had almost happened between them tonight. It was no big deal for Matt, just as it hadn’t been the last time. She could feel a lump start to form in the back of her throat and focused her eyes into a hard glare in effort to control the tears of humiliation that were forming at the edges.
“No, he doesn’t love me any more. But he did love me and he still respects me and would never hurt me, which makes him a better man than you.” She had meant to hurt him, to wound him, to have him feel some of her pain, and when she looked over and saw that she had succeeded, it didn’t make her feel any better. What was she doing here with Matt? Wasn’t the definition of craziness repeating the same actions again and again and expecting a different result?
“I’m a complete fool,” she muttered to herself, and completed her departure by slamming the car door and not turning back to look at Matt, who remained parked outside as she entered her building. She was locked safely inside her apartment and lying in bed before she heard his car start up again and leave.
He sped through Boston’s underground tunnels too angry to return to the memories that now awaited him at home. He looked at his now-empty passenger seat, remembering her in it curled up, sleeping, looking no different than she had almost a decade ago. When he had lifted her out of the car and carried her to the apartment, she had curled her arms around him and he had remembered what it had felt like when she’d been his.
When she had woken up he had seen the same trusting eyes of the past and he had been unable to resist kissing her. He didn’t know what he’d meant by the kiss, he’d just felt a need to be closer to her, to regain the intimacy they had lost. The instant he had felt her lips, tasted her, he had lost a
ll control. He shifted uncomfortably in the sports car seat, his erection returning painfully with the thought of Kate and her passionate response. The Kate he had been with tonight was not the same Katie he had known. The new Kate was no longer tentative. She had grabbed at him, moaned beneath him, had eagerly lain back and opened herself to him. Or so he had thought.
It had been a complete and sudden change, a moment of recognition. The moment she had heard his voice she had pushed him away and run. It had felt like a cold knife had stabbed him in the chest as he had felt the full impact of her rejection. He had wanted to go after her, to make her face him, but pride had held him back. He hadn’t wanted or needed to hear that the reason she had stopped was because he was not the man she wanted or loved. He hadn’t wanted to hear her reject him aloud, to tell him that she only wanted and loved Tate. That in her sleep-deprived state she had fantasized that he was Tate, right up until his voice had broken the illusion.
Her rejection tortured him. He never expected Kate to live a life of celibacy, but he had also deliberately chosen not to think about the alternative. Now he was faced with a reminder of the facts, what she looked like, what she felt like, how she would react and respond to the most intimate of touches, in essence how she would make love with the man she loved. And in acquiring that knowledge he was also faced with the fact that he was no longer that man.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE LOUD KNOCK brought Kate out of the darkness and forced her to open her eyes. She had been awake until six a.m., thinking about Matt, being torn between painful memories of the past and her body’s frustration at its lack of fulfillment. The knock came again and Kate grabbed her bathrobe and made her way to the door.
Chloe was standing on the other side, smiling, her hair down and straightened, her casual yoga pants and V-neck shirt nicely outlining her figure. She looked perfect, and Kate shuddered at the contrast to her own disheveled appearance. Chloe must also have recognized the difference because her smile quickly vanished and her green eyes began to evaluate Kate as she would a patient. “Oh, my God, I woke you up. Are you okay? Are you sick?”
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