11. Goldie
Chapter 11
Goldie
I BLINK. THEN I blink again. I’m not sure I’m breathing. But I am doing a fuck ton of blinking.
“Erhm, sorry.” He clears his throat and starts to turn away. “I have the wrong person.”
The thought of losing him is enough to launch me into action. “No!” I yelp, my mind racing. What do I do? What do I do? Holy crap, what do I do? Won’t he know my voice? I’ll change it. No idea how, but I’m doing it. I swallow, deciding if he recognizes my voice anyway, or anything else about me, then I’ll admit it. Maybe he’ll think this is funny. Like, ha-ha, what are the odds that you matched with your best friend’s little sister , am I right? Hilarious! I clear my throat and make my voice a little deeper. “The crow flies at night.”
His shoulders loosen and his mouth relaxes into a generous smile. “Dawn.”
I finally allow myself to take a breath. “James.”
“You look amazing,” Matty says. The mask does nothing to dim his eyes. If anything, it makes them even more mesmerizing.
What was in that drink?
“Thank you,” I smile, then gesture up. “Nice hat.”
He chuckles, and the sound of it, low and sensual, sends shivers racing across my body. I swear I have never heard that sound come out of him, and it’s doing funny things to my insides. He raises his fingers to the brim of it and tips it. “You like it?”
I nod. “The mask is a good touch.”
It’s a great touch. The damn thing is not only making his eyes look incredible, but also highlighting the fullness of his lips, and good gracious, he just licked them. I barely manage to repress a groan and an irritated stomp at the universe. Like, listen: I know he’s hot. I’ve been acutely aware of this man’s hotness—and goodness, and kindness, and goofiness, and loyalty—for literal decades . I do not need a dozen neon arrows blinking and pointing at him. I get it. I know.
And yet.
Even knowing all of this, I’ve never had the visceral reaction to him that I’m experiencing now. My palms are sweaty, for God’s sake, and I can’t wipe them on my dress because, you know, silk. It’s fake silk, but still.
I turn to wave the bartender over, then glance back at Matty. “Drink?”
He grins. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you?”
I shrug. “I was here first.”
He shifts closer and tilts his head toward me, and with the hat, the effect makes it feel like we’re the only two around. When he speaks, his voice is low. “Oh, I noticed.”
Is it hot in here? It’s hot in here.
He straightens and orders our drinks. We’re quiet while we wait, and when they come, he raises his in a toast. “To mysteries.”
I can’t help the smile that blooms on my face. “To mysteries.”
We chat just as easily as if we were texting on the app, and when the lights dim even more and the band kicks into a slower song, Matty holds his hand out. “Shall we?”
I thread my gloved hand into his as my heart leaps into my throat. “I’d love to.”
He pulls me close on the dance floor, leaving just enough room between us to keep it respectable. He smells so good, like always, dark vanilla mixed with laundry detergent. It’s so distinctly Matty that I nearly blurt everything out, the scent of him luring me like a siren to my doom.
God, has he always had these muscles? And the cowboy hat—why is that so sexy ?
“Talk to me, Dawn,” he says, sending a fresh wave of shivers down my body. “You’re awfully quiet now. Am I that bad of a dancer?”
I let out a nervous laugh. If he only knew. I remind myself to make my voice sound different. “Not at all. You’re…wonderful,” I finish.
He smiles, his hand tightening on mine while the other rests on my lower back like a branding iron. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say, breathier than I’d prefer.
“You smell amazing,” he whispers. “It’s familiar, but I can’t figure out why.”
Shit. It’s my signature perfume, and surely, he’s smelled it on me before. But he’s never said anything, and why should he have? “It’s, ah, a lot of things. You know, hair stuff, body wash, deodorant.” Maybe I should stop dancing with him.
But it feels unbelievably good to be in his arms. And his breath on my neck is…
“Hmm?” he asks, pulling back to meet my eyes.
“What?”
A side of his mouth tugs up. “I thought you said something.”
Nope. I suppressed a moan, Matty. God help me. “Just…thirsty. Maybe some water?”
“Of course. After you.” His hand stays on my lower back as we move through the crowd and remains there when we get to the bar.
My blood is on fire. The water is a balm, but it does nothing to soothe the state this man has put me in. I’m barely able to keep my hands from shaking.
“So,” he starts.
“So.” I down the rest of the water and try to focus on anything that isn’t Matty. The problem is that the man is wearing his suit like nature intended, complete with freshly shined boots and a shirt collar that’s just tight enough around his neck to draw my attention. I swallow. There, just beneath his ear, is the freckle that I’ve always wanted to kiss.
I might combust.
“I—sorry.” He glances away and laughs nervously. “You are—God, Dawn, you’re taking my breath away here, and I still don’t know who you really are. It’s messing with my brain.”
Oh, thank God. “Me, too,” I confess. Minus the part where I don’t know him, but you know, details.
“Can I just—” He stops. “Dance with me. I need?—”
Fuck it. I grab his hand and lead him to the dance floor, pressing my body to his, threading a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck and wrapping my other arm around him. He shivers as he pulls me closer, one hand gripping my hip and the other splayed across my bare back. I suck in a breath. “Better?”
He nods, staring into my eyes. “Much.”
If I thought I crushed on him before, then I’m a freaking goner now. The way he holds me, the way he’s looking at me…this is not the Matty I’m used to. This Matty is oozing sex appeal and holds himself in a way that is both confident and desperate, as though he knows what he wants but isn’t sure he’ll get it.
And I will so let him have it. Consequences be damned.
I don’t know how long we dance. It could be five minutes, it could be an hour. All I know is the heat of his hands against my skin, the silk of his hair, the broadness of his shoulders, and the sound of his laugh against my neck, velvet and deep. I never want it to end.
But end it does, when the band stops for a break. We make our way off the dance floor slowly, hands clasped, neither of us willing to let go of the other. Unfortunately, all the water and wine has had an effect, so I excuse myself to go to the restroom and make my way out of the ballroom and into a side hallway, finally finding the restrooms on the other side of another darkened ballroom.
As I wash my hands, I look at myself in the mirror. I don’t recognize the woman staring back. It’s not just my hair. Even my eyes look different with this mask, and my lips are stained a deep red, a color I never wear. It’s no wonder that he doesn’t recognize me.
I have no idea what I’m going to do. I should tell Matty it’s me. I know I should.
But I can’t. Not yet. It’s selfish of me, but I can’t bear the thought of him not looking at me the way he’s looking at Dawn.
Tomorrow. I’ll come clean tomorrow.
I dry my hands and leave the restroom, turning back to the ballroom when a hand darts out from the darkened room to my right and yanks me in.
I’m about to scream, but there’s just enough light to see that it’s Matty.
“Shh,” he says.
“James,” I breathe, proud of myself for not saying his real name.
He steps us farther into the dark, walking me backward until I’m pressed against a wall. My heart pounds and my mouth has gone desert dry. I watch silently as he moves, a shadow in the night, taking the hat off and placing it on a stack of chairs beside us.
“Can you see anything?” he asks.
“No,” I whisper. My heart is about to pound out of my chest. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I’m here for any of it. All of it.
Without a word, he removes his mask. I can’t see his features, which is both a relief and a disappointment. His hands find mine, and I don’t move as his fingers trail lightly up my arms and over the curve of my shoulders to my neck. Goosebumps trail in his wake, and I hitch a breath as his hands hover over the ribbon securing my mask.
He shifts closer. “May I?”
The only thing I can hear is my heartbeat. “Yes.”
It takes only a moment for him to untie the ribbon and remove the mask. A second later, his hands are cupping my face and tilting my chin.
Fuck. I can’t get enough air. My chest heaves.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat as his thumb strokes my skin. “So soft,” he whispers. “I didn’t let myself wonder what you looked like. I told myself it didn’t matter. And it doesn’t.” He presses his thumb to my lower lip, dragging it down slowly, and it might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced. He growls. “But these red lips, Dawn.”
An ache blooms between my legs as my hands move of their own accord, finding the loops of his dress pants tugging him closer. I want to demand he kiss me. To beg. But I have no words. He’s shredded them all with the ones he just uttered.
“May I kiss you?”
I squeeze my eyes shut in relief. “Please.” It comes out as a whimper.
He threads his hand around the back of my neck, angling me exactly where he wants me, and then his lips lower to mine.
I moan as he takes my mouth, offering myself up on a platter. This man’s words have already ruined me, and now his lips are killing me. I feel everything at once: his hands holding me in place, unbelievably strong and commanding, yet soft and gentle. The way his body surrounds and presses into mine exactly like I knew would happen. His scent invades me as his tongue licks across the seam of my lips and I open for him, knowing it was my last defense and unable to care.
When he groans, it unravels me. Teeth and tongues clash as his hand slides down the side of my body and dips into the open slit of the dress, his touch searing against my bare skin as he wraps his fingers around my thigh and pulls it up to anchor his hips between my legs.
We both curse at the contact, and he nips at my lower lip, pulling it into his mouth and sucking it before releasing it.
Without stopping the kiss, I push my hands up his chest, exploring the hard muscles obvious even beneath the dress shirt before moving one hand around and down to grab his ass and guide it forward. He rocks against me, the hardness of him doing little to ease my aching center.
“Dawn,” he breathes, his chest heaving against mine. He starts to pull away. “We?—”
“I know.” I tug him back. I want to memorize everything about this moment. The darkness, the scent of him, the feel of him, the mystery that permeates all of it despite me knowing exactly who he is.
He kisses me harder, grabbing my wrists and raising my arms above my head to pin them against the wall as his mouth trails hot kisses down my neck. When his other hand grazes the side of my breast, I gasp, the sensation both too much and not nearly enough. His hand keeps going, the fingers tracing beneath my breast before falling to my stomach, then around to my waist to grip me hard.
“The things I would do to you, Dawn,” he says, his voice low and dark. “We’re not there yet, but when we are.” He scrapes his teeth against my neck as he releases my arms, his lips soothing the light sting.
We stay there for a moment, just breathing, his head bent beside mine, before he reaches to grab my mask. Together, we position it on my face, and he ties it behind my head. In two short movements, he’s secured his own mask and put his hat back on.
He reaches for me, his hand cupping my chin once more to place the lightest of kisses on my lips. “Can’t wait to see if I ruined that lipstick.” His chuckle is so signature Matty that I nearly crumple.
I place my hand in his and let him lead us back into the light. We pause at the edge of the ballroom. “How do I look?” I ask.
His eyes are soft, but his mouth tips into a wicked grin. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been kissing someone.” He closes the distance between us once more. “Dance with me.”
We dance for another hour, until my feet are so numb I can’t feel them. He walks outside with me to wait on an Uber, taking his jacket off and wrapping it around me when he sees me shiver.
Of course he does .
I blink up at him, wrapped in his scent and the warmth of his coat, and never want this night to end. When the car eventually comes, I return the jacket and get another kiss in return. Reluctantly, I get in the back seat, his scent still clinging to me as I turn to watch him. He holds his hand up, waving.