Chapter 7
SEVEN
THE REALIZATION HOW far out of my league I was hadn’t settled in. I was trying to hide my freak out from Matt, who looked unbelievably attractive in a casual, cream shirt that showed off his broad shoulders to maximum effect, which tapered in at his yummy waist under his dark pants that did nothing to hide those impressive legs of his. His hair wasn’t slicked back as usual, instead laying in semi-tousled, black waves around his head. Damn, he was fine. He sat across me, grey eyes squinting at whatever it was he looked at on the screen of his tablet. I sipped my champagne demurely and tried not to look out of place on his private jet. A text arrived from him Friday night, instructing me a car would be sent to pick me up at six am the next morning. I had texted back saying I had my own car and could meet him at the airport before we had to check in. It was a worry, wondering how we were going to do this. Would anyone recognize him? Would we act like strangers? Would I sit in coach while he enjoyed first class? Where exactly were we heading to in Italy? Would we share a taxi from the airport when we landed? And, if not, why wasn’t he giving me directions to his place so I could get there on my own?
All the worry had been for naught. Matt had sent another text two hours later, again brief and straight to the point, saying everything was under control and for me to be ready when the car arrived.
I took another sip from my glass and watched him surreptitiously from under my lashes. There were tiny crinkles around his eyes, barely noticeable, and the only signs of his age. I personally believed them to be the results of smiling. I liked the thought of him smiling so much his eyes showed the effect. He wasn’t smiling now. Matt was quickly flicking his index finger over the screen and grumbling under his breath. He sighed and looked up. I tried to act as if I hadn’t been observing him without his knowledge.
“I’m sorry, poppet. I’m rotten company at the moment.”
I sipped my champagne, wrinkling my nose at the bubbles. He chuckled, the tension spilling from him moments ago dissipating into nothing. He put the tablet down and beckoned me over. I shook my head and stayed in my seat.
“Come over here and sit on my lap,” he said with a grin.
Another shake of head directed at him. On entering the jet, I had been assailed with the urge to strip him naked and do things, naughty things. It was an urge I had been fighting and was determined to overcome. I was turning into a wanton slut around this man.
“So,” I started in an attempt to change the topic. “You have a private jet.”
Matt nodded, eyes lingering on my dress. It was a spaghetti-strap yellow number, tight over the boobs, then falling into a light flow of material that covered me to the knees. Summer was almost over, and I wanted to get wear out of my dresses before it became too cold.
“Do you use it much?” I asked, trying my best to ignore his come-hither vibes.
“Yes, you know I travel a lot with work. Come over here, poppet.”
“Nuh uh.” I looked around the plush interior, conscious that somewhere in the jet there were two people who had taken our bags and gotten us the champagne. The pilot was in the cockpit. He seemed a friendly person, shaking Matt’s hand energetically when we’d arrived, and shooting me openly curious looks when Matt wasn’t looking.
“Why not?” Matt asked. He leaned back in his seat and arched a unamused eyebrow at me.
“Because,” I answered unhelpfully.
“That is not a properly constructed sentence, poppet. Come over here.”
I put my glass down, noting the satisfied smile on his face as I stood up. I walked past him, throwing over my shoulders a carefree, “Need to pee, hon.” I hurried to the bathroom and made sure the lock was turned. This was insane. I was on a private jet with a rich white man ten years older than me and heading to his place in Italy. It had been getting easier to ignore the race issue. In fact, the more time we spent together, the less it was apparent. He was Matt to me now. Not white Matt or mega-rich Matt, just plain ole Matt.
My reflection in the mirror was a sceptical one. I might no longer be focusing on the race subject, but he most likely was. I pondered our unusual relationship. Where was this heading? Nowhere, I reminded myself. It was only a matter of time before Matt and I stopped seeing each other. My gaze flickered around the bathroom that was tastefully done in marble. Sheesh. This bathroom was better than mine. After freshening up my sparse makeup, I returned to our seats, pausing to bend over and press a kiss to Matt’s cheek.
“Stop being bossy, Matt.”
He chuckled, grabbing my waist and tugging me onto his lap. “I am trying, poppet. Are you looking forward to your first visit to Italy?”
I nodded vigorously and he chuckled, a hand stroking up my back lightly.
“Is there anything in particular you would like to do?” he asked, staring intently at my lips. “Or see?”
“Venice, Rome, the Vatican City, Milan.” I started counting them off on my fingers. “The Amalfi coast. Oh, and Pompeii.”
Matt laughed before slipping one hand up my neck and pulling me into a deep kiss. What seemed like a lifetime later, he leaned back, tongue tracing his lips slowly and a burn of desire igniting in his grey eyes. “The house is in Venice, so that’s no problem. We could spend a day in Milan, maybe fly over to Rome at some point, but we’re only in Italy for a week, and I plan to spend most of that time in bed with you.” He wagged his eyebrows at me, lecherous and comical at the same time. I couldn’t help my laughter as I wriggled from his hold and returned to my seat.
“Mr Bradley.” I kept my voice strict, although I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. “I’m beginning to think you only want me for my body.”
Matt blinked at me, the previous teasing on his face gone in an instant. “Is that what you think, Madison?”
My smile faltered at his serious demeanour. He was back to looking stern. I hated that expression on his face. It made me feel like an errant child who’d committed a great wrong and was deserving of punishment. I shrugged, reaching for my half-drunk glass of bubbly.
“It was a joke, Matt.”
His mouth tightened as he observed me silently. The air between us got uncomfortable, to say the least, and I averted my confused gaze towards the window. Why was he acting so weird? It was a joke.
>>>
Matt kept his eyes on her as she fiddled with her glass and stared out the window. Now was not the time nor the place to admit his desire to make things official between them. Her flippant remark had caused him a moment of extreme frustration though. He wanted to shake sense into her. Making a joke like that, as if she was nothing more than a sexual conquest to him. Matt reminded himself that she was young, inexperienced in the ways of relationships. But, bloody hell, her comment had stroked his anger. Matt noticed her scratching her pinkie finger, and attempted to arrange his features into something that hid his displeasure. He forced a playful smile to his lips and moved seats. She glanced shyly at him as he sat next to her.
“We should be landing soon,” he advised, after checking his watch. “Are you hungry, poppet? You said before you didn’t have time for breakfast.”
She shook her head, eyes unsure as she tried to smile at him. Matt felt like an arse. The look on her face was his fault. He needed to work on his tone of voice when conversing with his poppet.
“You’ll love the house,” he said, stretching an arm over her bare shoulders. “It has great views and an indoor pool…I’ll take you sailing sometime this week. Have you ever been sailing, Madi?”
She shook her head. This time her smile blossomed into a real one and Matt felt his lips curl up in delight. He would do almost anything to keep that smile on her face.
>>>
“Sailing is dangerous,” I said, snuggling closer to Matt. He wasn’t wearing that angry expression anymore. “I can’t risk getting knocked overboard by a falling mast. I might break an important bone. Same thing goes for horse riding, skiing, skydiving, any sport where the possibility of bodily injury is higher than normal. I stay away from them.”
Whatever Matt was going to say got put on hold as the woman who’d poured our champagne earlier came sauntering from the back. I immediately moved out from under Matt’s arm. I didn’t want his staff gossiping. Matt stiffened and twisted his head to give me an unreadable stare.
“Mr Bradley,” she said with a beaming smile when she stopped a few feet away. “We’ll be arriving in thirty minutes. Would you like any light refreshments before we land?”
“No thanks, Belinda, but you can call the driver to ensure he’s waiting for us at the airstrip and check the boat is ready.”
She nodded, with that Colgate smile. Her gaze lingered on Matt as she continued towards the front of the jet. I ignored it because Matt ignored it.
“This is going to be so much fun,” I said. He flashed me a smile before topping up my glass. The remainder of the flight we chatted about inconsequential things. I got the feeling something was on Matt’s mind. He had that distracted air hanging around him. When we landed, there was a limo waiting and a chauffeur opening the doors for us while our baggage was put in the trunk. Totally out of my league. Another bottle of champagne was opened and we were ferried to the docks. I was getting slightly tipsy, my face felt hot and I was beginning to babble as the driver unloaded our stuff onto a large boat. The man on the boat let out a stream of Italian, to which Matt responded with a rumble of laughter between his words. I assumed it was about me, given the way the man eyed me speculatively and winked. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion as Matt helped me onto the boat. It was lovely being on the water. Matt was charming company, as usual. The champagne we had started drinking in the limo was finished as he pointed out the sights of Venice.
“Here we are, poppet,” he said as we arrived at wrought iron gates partially submerged by the water, with an intricate ‘B’ in the middle. I giggled and gestured at it.
“A bit pretentious, don’t you think, hon?”
The remote controlled gates opened up and Matt shook his head at me. I giggled.
“ I think opening this bottle was a mistake. You’re drunk.”
“Tipsy,” I corrected. “We’re on vacation. In Venice. It’s allowed.”
Matt fingered my chin, then kissed me with major tongue action. “Did I mention how lovely you look?”
“Nope. When I got in the car back home, the first thing you said was ‘half an hour late, poppet.’” My head was swivelling around, checking to see if that man had seen us making out and whether he was leering at me. Did he think I was a floozy? Did Matt bring women here all the time?
“You were,” he admonished with a mock glare. The instant retort on my lips died as the boat bobbed to a stop. I eyed the walkway, remembering a book I’d probably read years ago that Venice had a problem with rats. I didn’t like rats.
“Um, Matt?”
“Yes?” he asked, gesturing to the man to get our bags. Matt moved away to help tie off the boat and I followed, glancing around. Those critters could be hiding, waiting to pounce as soon as we got off the boat. Rats could eat through steel. Visions of being covered by the beasties with their gnawing teeth flashed before my eyes, and I shuddered in revulsion.
“Are there rats here?”
Matt finished tying off the boat and shot me an amused look over his shoulder. “There are rats everywhere in the world, poppet.”
I scowled and he chewed his sexy lower lip, obviously trying to stop his laughter.
“As someone who has lived in New York,” he continued. “I’d think you’d be on familiar terms with rodents.”
My scowl deepened at his pointed crack at my adopted hometown, and Matt couldn’t hold back his deep laughter at my expression. Arrogant Brit.
“Don’t worry,” he cajoled, smirking at my discomfort. “I rarely see rodents whenever I visit. The alleged rat infestation that is linked to Venice is an exaggeration. Take my hand and I’ll help you off the boat. Don’t squeeze so hard, poppet.”
I gave him an extra squeeze for making fun of me and he tugged my hand up to his lips, pressing a light kiss to my skin. The man said something behind us and Matt replied in Italian, leaving me to assume he visited here often enough to know the language and wondering if they were talking about me.
“How many languages do you speak?” I asked, a tad breathlessly as he helped me off the boat. If I fell into the murky water, I would freak out for sure.
“A few. Can you grab this bag, Madi?”
I took the bag and fidgeted with excitement, while waiting for Matt to get the rest of our stuff. Oh my God. I was in Venice with my boyfr—whoa. Did I mentally call Matt my boyfriend? My face must have reflected my shock, because Matt paused, peering over at me, and asked, “Are you all right, poppet? You’re not going to be sick, are you?”
I shook my head, avoiding his gaze as he turned his attention back to the man. What in the hell was wrong with me? Matt wasn’t my boyfriend. We had sex, good sex…spectacular sex, but he wasn’t my boyfriend. Hell, he was thirty-seven years old, well past the flush of youth, although he didn’t look it. This wasn’t a real relationship, just two people from different worlds having fun. He. Was. Not. My. Boyfriend.
“Arrivederci,” the man called with a vigorous wave as he started the boat’s engine.
Matt slipped an arm around my waist and waved goodbye. We stood there until the boat sailed out of the iron gates. Matt turned and I got a face-full of yummy chest. I tilted my head back to look up at him. Damn. It never failed to take my breath away, his handsomeness.
“So,” he drawled, leaning down to run his tongue lightly over my parted lips. The bag slipped from my hand and I wrapped my arms around his waist.
“What shall we do first?” he asked with a decidedly devilish quirk to his mouth.
I grinned. He grinned. In a movement so quick it had happened before I could react, he tossed me over his shoulder.
“Matt,” I shrieked, upside down and clinging to him like a monkey. “Put me down, you oaf.”
He ignored my shouts to be released and headed for the door.
“Our bags,” I yelled, head bouncing over his back. “Matt, put me down this instant.”
“Salve, Signor Bradley, e bene avere qui.”
I jerked at the sound of a strange male voice, then frantically tried to maintain an upside down one-armed hold on Matt while tugging my dress down tight.
“Good morning, Antonio. Our bags are back there. I trust everything is prepared as to my specifications?”
“Si, si, Signor Bradley.”
“Capital,” Matt replied as he adjusted my weight on his shoulder. “Have lunch prepared for around one. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
My head bounced as Matt strode to the open door and entered the house. The upside down view I had probably didn’t do it justice, but I did like the marble flooring.
“I’m going to be sick,” I warned, hoping the threat would cause him to release me from the undignified position I was currently being held in. The rush of blood to my head, the bumping into his back as he easily took the stairs, the champagne I had imbibed during our trip here…it would serve him right if I hurled all over his ass.
“Here we are, poppet.”
“Oof.” The air hissed out of me as I was unceremoniously dumped on top of a huge bed. The room spun crazily for a second while I began to berate him. “You are the most insufferable man—” My words were cut off as he climbed on top of me and devoured my lips with his own.
“Is that any way to talk to your knight?” he teased. Matt was pulling his shirt off, while I lay dazed beneath him. It was embarrassing the way his kisses left me speechless. “Oh, poppet, we’re going to have fun this week.”
He stopped talking, finding something else far more enjoyable to do with his mouth, and I forgot why I was mad with him moments later…
>>>
“I’m going to crash your boat, Matt,” I called in warning, glancing over my shoulder to where he lounged reading papers. His wind-tousled head rose up for a moment, calculating the distance between us and the oncoming boat.
“You’re fine, Madi. Keep your heading straight.” He resumed his reading.
I grimaced behind my shades and spat curls out of my mouth. The wind was picking up even though the early morning skies were bright blue without a cloud in sight. I had no idea what I was doing, so I maintained my death grip on the wheel and hoped to God we didn’t crash. Matthew Bradley was the craziest man I’d ever encountered. And the sweetest, I mentally added, while marvelling at the sparkling ocean and the other boats around. A girl could get used to this lifestyle. It was day three into our holiday and I was having the time of my life. Matt’s whole demeanour had undergone a startling transformation. He was so relaxed one would be forgiven for thinking narcotics had played a part. I took another look over my shoulder, experiencing a spurt of girlish delight at the man who had whisked me away from the mounting stress in England. He had picked up a golden tan over his muscular body, and the dark-blue swimming shorts he wore seemed to make it more apparent. The wind blew through his black hair, playfully whipping the silky locks around his head. A memory of his strong arms wrapped around me had me squirming in my bikini bottoms. The realization that I was stupidly falling for him had dawned yesterday morning when we’d been having breakfast. Matt had plucked a flower from the vase in the centre of the table and tucked it behind my ear before finishing his cup of tea and disappearing with Antonio to discuss the water levels under the house. It wasn’t really a house, more like a palatial abode for a rock star. I was afraid to touch anything for fear of breakage. Matt thought it was cute the way I minced around his vacation home. Antonio wasn’t the only member of staff at our disposal. There was a woman, Rosa, whose job was chef maid; how she did it all, I had no idea. And an old man, Franco, whose job I hadn’t guessed, was always hovering around and reminded me of an Italian version of George.
“Eyes front, Madi,” Matt murmured, peering at me from over his shades. I stuck my tongue out at him, but resumed staring frontward at the open waters, death grip in place. The approaching boat was almost upon us, and I let out a high-pitched squeal which had Matt tossing down his newspapers and hurrying over.
“Relax, poppet.” he said, coming behind me and resting his hands over mine on the wheel. I exhaled in relief as the boat went past without collision, letting my body melt against Matt’s and thoroughly enjoying his breath fluttering over my ear. “You’re a natural.”
I scoffed in disbelief, then asked, “What are we doing after sailing?”
“Mmm, I can think of a few things,” Matt murmured, while dropping one hand to my hip.
“Nuh uh, mister. All we’ve done for the past three days is laze around in that palace of yours and eat pasta.”
His touch on my hip became insistent. “Best three days of my life so far.”
I laughed at that, got a mouthful of hair and spluttered unattractively. Matt fiddled with the ties on my bikini bottoms, and I promptly smacked his hand away. He sighed loudly before putting it back on the wheel, taking control of the boat with me standing in the circle of his arms.
“We’ll go into the city today, if you want,” he said in a long-suffering tone.
“I want,” I replied, turning around to face him. The reflection staring from his shades surprised me. That couldn’t be me. I looked damned happy.
Heartache, heartache, a shitload of heartache, my mind chanted mercilessly.
“Okay,” he agreed. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you shopping in Milan. Would you like that, poppet?”
I reached up to slide my shades down my nose. “Which woman wouldn’t? But I’m not spending a ridiculous amount of money—”
“You won’t have to spend a penny,” he interrupted.
The shades were off completely as I chewed my lower lip in discomfort. The money issue had reared its head. Awkward.
“Thanks for the offer but, no, I don’t want you spending money on me.”
Matt shrugged, attention on the water and not on my uneasy expression. He was deliberately ignoring me. Impressive considering I was literally centimetres away. “I’ll do whatever I want. No sense getting worked up over it. Are you hungry? We left before breakfast this morning and Rosa has made us a basketful of goodies.”
“Did you gloss over my last comment?” I asked, bare feet tapping the deck.
“Yes, I did,” Matt confirmed, without a sliver of remorse as he shut off the engine. “We’ll drop anchor here and have something to eat. Then I’ll show you how to handle the boat in open water.”
My mouth was hanging open. Matt laughed, raising a hand to shut my jaw and moving his shades so they nestled atop his head.
“You are, without a doubt,” he said cheerfully, “the most delightful woman I’ve ever met.”
“Delightful, my ass,” I muttered.
Matt gripped my chin, intense grey eyes roving over my face. “That’s delightful, too, poppet, but I’m serious. You are fast becoming a fixture in my life, and we need to have a frank discussion about that.”
I stilled, unsure where he was going with this. He didn’t seem relaxed anymore; tense was a better description for the vibes he was giving off. I ducked my head, not wanting to have the talk with him. The ‘what do you think is happening between us’ talk. The talk where he verbally clarifies that fun things must come to an end, or worse, one where he wants to keep me as a secret bit on the side. I couldn’t bear that, even though that was exactly what I was right now. Knowing it and having it spelt out were two completely different things.
“I’m hungry, Matt. Let’s go eat,” I said brightly and ducked under his arms before heading to the stairs leading to the lower deck.
>>>
Matt couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was absolutely stunning in her dress and earning more than a fair share of appreciative male glances as she tossed her head back, laughing in delight at whatever the grey-haired Italian man had whispered in her ear. Matt sauntered over, drinks in hand and wearing his usual aloof smile. The dirty, old man was hitting on her, not that he could blame him. The strapless green gown fitted her perfectly, cinching at her waist to reveal the enticing lines of her figure, and the contrast against her smooth, chocolate skin was mouth-watering. Matt stifled a laugh, remembering the look of horror on her face when he dragged her into the Valentino store, intent on seeing that dress in the window on her instead of the mannequin. She had flat out refused to let him purchase anything, only relenting when he threatened to leave her stranded in the city. When they’d entered the next store, her eyes lit up in shameless delight. He felt no reservations in spending his money on three pairs of what he thought were ridiculously over-priced Manolo Blahnik shoes. The child-like giddiness on her face was worth it. The amount he’d spent in the shops was a drop in the ocean where his finances were concerned.
Matt had made the decision to cut short their early morning sail and take the train into Milan. During breakfast, she had seemed unusually withdrawn and it didn’t sit well with him that his dark beauty wasn’t smiling. So, wanting her bubbly demeanour to return, he notified her of the change in plans, hoping it would improve her mood. It worked. They donned baseball caps and shades, and she’d joked they were incognito. Matt had toyed with the idea of broaching the topic of their secret relationship, but was unwilling to risk spoiling her mood. He could wait a while longer, wait for the right moment to present itself, then demand—no, not demand—ask her to consider being in an open relationship with him. It was a lot to ask. Being with him would mean her life would be open to public scrutiny, and Madi didn’t seem the type to adapt to the sort of publicity he’d faced over the years. If she said no…Matt shoved that thought away. She wouldn’t say no.
“Here’s your drink, poppet,” he murmured on arriving at her side. He arched an eyebrow at the man old enough to be his father as she took her glass with a grateful smile. Matt asked the stranger in fluent Italian whether he thought he could steal his woman away from right under his nose. When the old man burst into raucous laughter and slapped Matt good-naturedly on the back, Madi’s gaze swung suspiciously between them.
“Forgive me,” the grey-haired man gushed. He’d obviously had one drink too many. “But she is una bella giovane donna.” He lapsed into his native Italian and clobbered Matt on his back. The man turned to Madi, hands flying up to grab her shoulders before either her or Matt could react, and kissed both her cheeks with flourish. “Bella.”
“Enough of that,” Matt warned with a friendly smile, but he did step closer to her and slipped a proprietary arm around her waist. Old or young, Matt didn’t want any other man touching his poppet. Ever.
“Making friends?” he asked after the man stumbled away. She turned into his body, face raised and grinning impishly at him. So damn beautiful, he thought to himself.
“What did you say to him?” she asked, brown eyes alit with curiosity.
“To sod off before I kicked his arse.”
“You didn’t.” She glanced in the direction where the man had headed, then looked at him.
“No, I didn’t,” he admitted. “But I should have. Bloody man taking liberties with you. I’m not leaving your side for the rest of the night.”
Madi pressed herself closer to him, and Matt suddenly didn’t want to spend another minute here. The party had been suggested by Franco. Matt wanted to take her dancing, but somewhere he wouldn’t run the risk of running into anyone he knew. When people found out about them, it would be on their terms, not due to someone spotting him, then gossiping about it.
He tightened his arm around her and tossed back his non-alcoholic drink. “Do you want to go?”
She leaned back in surprise, forehead furrowing as she observed him closely. Matt winked at her and watched the realization dawn on her face.
“Let’s go.”
“Good,” he muttered, relieving her of the untasted drink and propping it on the low wall where they stood. “I’ve got a raging you-know-what and it’s entirely your fault.”
“Matt,” She gasped, head darting around to check if he’d been overheard. “You can’t say those things in public.”
“I just did, poppet. Let’s find the fastest gondola in Venice and call it a night.”
She huffed for a moment, then beamed at him, slipping her hand into his as they left the jovial crowd behind. They walked about five minutes before she let out a sharp cry of alarm and stumbled against him. Matt instinctively righted her movements before she fell.
“Fuck!” she exclaimed, glaring down at her feet.
Matt couldn’t recall if he’d heard her swear before, then remembered their argument in the pub so long ago. It was startling to hear a strongly uttered expletive from his sweet Madi.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“I don’t think so,” she muttered, while leaning against him. He watched anxiously as she pulled up her dress a few inches, lifted up the offending foot and wriggled it side to side. “Nope, not broken. These heels were not made for cobblestones. Can I have a piggyback?”
“A what?” Matt made sure the disbelief he felt was clear to see on his face.
“A piggyback,” she repeated, pouting her luscious lips at him. “Please?”
“Madison—”
“It’s not too far to the water taxis, and I may have hurt my ankle,” she wheedled. Matt wasn’t buying it for a second, but she did look cute with that little pout. He injected a high level of sternness into his voice. “I’m a well-respected businessman—”
“Please, please, please, Matt.”
She fluttered her thick eyelashes at him and Matt gave in with a wry grin. “All right poppet, one piggyback and we’re never to mention this undignified occurrence to anyone. Hop on.”
He watched as she hitched her dress up, then turned so she could climb on to his back. This was completely unacceptable behaviour, but her infectious laughter made him feel like a young man.
“You’re the best knight ever,” she whispered into his ear, before planting a big kiss on his cheek.
“Mmm hmm, and you weigh a tonne.” His teasing comment was far from the truth, and she stuck a wet tongue into his ear in retribution. “Do that again, poppet, and I’ll dump you on the ground.”
“Giddy-up.” She clutched his shoulders, making sure her legs were wrapped firmly around him, and he chuckled despite their highly inappropriate conduct. Matt began walking in the direction of the Canal Grande. They could board a water taxi and be back at his place within half an hour. He quickened his pace while Madi drew him into a conversation over the history of the buildings they walked past. Matt, having holidayed frequently here, was a font of knowledge and he felt a deep-seated pleasure in the way she listened avidly to him describe Venice culture. By the time they boarded the water taxi, Matt couldn’t wait to get back to the house. Her lovely brown eyes flirted with him as she deliberately ran her fingers up and down his arm. Gone was the inexperienced young woman he’d taken into his bed a few months ago. In her place stood a sensuous goddess who turned his body into a consuming inferno with a mere touch. When they arrived, Antonio was waiting, ready to execute requests from his employer. Matt dismissed him for the rest of the night. He had everything he could possibly need, and she was standing by the balcony windows in his bedroom, wistfully peering at the night. He glided over, resting a hand on the small of her back.
“What’s on your mind?” he murmured softly.
“I’m—” she paused, twisting her head so she could see his face.
“What, poppet?” Was there a touch of sadness in her eyes?
“Happy,” she answered, but the melancholy smile curling her lips contradicted her words.
“So am I,” Matt said with quiet intensity, as his fingers latched over the zip and he slowly drew it down. She didn’t move as the dress slid to the floor, revealing her underwear-clad body to his hungry gaze. Matt rubbed his hand over her back, venturing lower until he encountered the top of her sexy lace knickers. He let out a rough moan of desire and she turned around, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck as she buried her face in his chest.
“Let’s go to bed,” he ordered, close to the edge of tumultuous passion and wanting to sate himself in the secrets of her body. Did she have any idea how much he yearned for her? Did she truly understand the way she affected him? Had changed him?
Matt took them over to the bed and lost himself in the pleasure of her touch, her scent, her soft moans of lust. He lost himself completely and, when they laid wrapped around each other exhausted from their climax, he vowed to never let her go. Her breathing evened out and soon enough she started snoring gently.
“I love you, poppet,” he whispered as he kissed her cheek.
“Me, too.” she murmured back.
Matt stilled, frozen in shock, then he carefully leaned away to observe her sleeping face. She was sleeping. Bloody hell. Had his words registered in her sleep-induced state? He listened to her weird snoring for a few minutes before settling back down.
‘Me, too.’ She had said, ‘Me, too.’ Matt ignored the obvious fact her response wasn’t made with an alert mind and drifted off to slumber. Tomorrow. He would sit her down and they would have a serious talk. All he had to do was convince her this connection between them deserved more than being hidden in the shadows. Whoever didn’t like it could go fuck themselves.