“Only if you eat while I talk. You haven’t had more than a bite, and the chicken is fantastic.”
Listening to Matt and watching him drove all thought of food from her mind. But if eating was his precondition, well …
He talked and she ate. She made observations and asked questions while he ate, then resumed her own meal when he talked more. By the time they’d had seconds of just about everything, including wine, she’d learned that, though a mischievous Matt had received his share of spankings as a boy, he’d grown up in a house filled with love. She’d also learned, but between the lines, that what Matt craved most was his own house filled with love.
When he offered to help her clean up, she accepted. It wasn’t that she needed the help or that she was liberated enough to demand it. She’d thoroughly enjoyed the way they’d worked together getting the dinner ready, and she wanted to draw out the evening as long as possible.
Apparently Matt had the same idea. When the kitchen was as spotless as one that age could be, he suggested they relax for a few minutes before he left. They settled in the living room, which, aside from Lauren’s bedroom, was the only room with furnishings. There was one sofa and two side chairs. They shared the sofa.
Lauren felt peaceful and happy and tremendously drawn to the man beside her. His arm was slung across the back of the sofa, his fingers tangling in her hair. The clean, manly scent that clung to his skin heightened her senses, while his warmth bridged the small space between them with its invisible touch.
“This has been nice,” she told him, slanting a shy glance his way. “I’m glad you came.”
His voice was like a velvet mist. “So am I.” Sliding his arm around her shoulders, he drew her closer even as he met her halfway. His lips touched one corner of her mouth, then the other, then her cupid’s bow, then her lower lip. He’d opened his mouth to kiss her fully when, unable to help herself, she laughed.
He drew back and stared at her for a minute, then cried in mock dismay, “Lauren! What kind of behavior is that? Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to laugh in a man’s face when he’s about to kiss you?”
“I’m sorry … It’s just that … you were tasting me one little bit at a time…. You reallyarecautious!”
His eyes danced mischievously. “Caution’s gone” was all he said before he covered her mouth with his and proceeded to deliver the most thorough kiss she’d ever received. No part of her mouth was left untouched by any part of his, and by the time he buried his face in her hair, she felt totally devoured. She might have told him so had she been able to speak, but her breath was caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat, for his hand was sliding over her waist, over and up, ever higher, and anticipation had become as tangible as those long, bronzed fingers. When at last they reached her breast, she let out a soft moan and succumbed to the exquisite sensations shooting through her.
Lauren had never been touched this way, yet there was nothing demure in her response. Both mind and body said that what she was experiencing was right and natural; instinct, goaded by desire, set her fingers to combing through his thick hair, running over his broad shoulders, splaying eagerly across his sinewed back.
“Lauren.” His voice was hoarse. “Lauren … I have to … we have to stop….”
“No,” she whispered. She held his head with one hand, pressing it to her neck. Her other hand covered his at her breast. “Don’t stop.”
A groan came from deep in his chest. “Do you know what you’re saying, sweetheart? What it does to me?” His voice was thicker now, foreign to her ears yet exciting. She held her breath when he transferred her hand to his own chest and slowly slid it lower.
Lauren could feel the strength beneath her palm, the tautness of his stomach, then the stunning rigidity beneath the fly of his jeans. She wanted to hold him, explore him, let him satisfy the ache that had taken hold deep in her belly, but the newness of it all brought a measure of sanity. With a shuddering breath, she sagged against him.
“Yes. Do stop,” she whispered. She was shocked by her own abandon, not quite sure what to make of it. “Everything … everything’s happened so fast … and there’s still the other matter.” Of her own accord, she retreated from him, taking refuge in her corner of the sofa and clasping her hands tightly in her lap. The aura of arousal, a telltale quiver, lingered in her body, but thought of that “other matter” gradually put it to rest.
Matt, too, retreated to his corner of the sofa. He shifted in an attempt to get comfortable, finally hunching forward with his elbows on his knees. His fingers were interlaced, not quite at ease. He cleared his throat. “Yes … that other matter.”
“We didn’t reach any conclusions.”
A pause. “No.”
“What do you think?”
Another pause. “I don’t know.”
“Should I call the police?”
“No.” Emphatically.
“Why not?”
He didn’t answer, but studied his hands and frowned. “I have to ask you this, Lauren. I know it may sound terrible … but you did mention that your parents were against your coming here—”
“My parents? You think myparentscould have been behind what’s happened?” Vehemently she shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. They may disagree with me, but they’d never try to harm me.”
“Maybe just scare you into going back—”
“No.” She was still shaking her head. “Not possible! They wouldn’t be capable of conceiving of violence.”
“Maybe not violence, but if they’ve already lost one of their children—”
