Chapter 47
hope
I had an idea where we were going, but it wasn’t until we hit the top of the stairs and he turned left that I knew for sure.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be in here?
” I asked as he pulled me into his bedroom, where soft afternoon light filtered through the windows.
“There’s that spare room down the hall, or . . .”
“This is fine,” he said, closing the door and locking it before drawing me into an embrace.
“You were pretty upset the first time I was in here.”
“I overreacted.”
“To what, exactly?” I’d been thinking and thinking about it, and I’d wondered if he’d been upset that I’d somehow defiled Christine’s memory. He headed to the bed and pulled down the comforter. Was this the bed that he’d shared with Christine? The thought creeped me out a little.
“To the fact I was attracted to you.”
My heart lifted like a butterfly. “You were?”
“From the moment I saw you.” He sat down on the white sheets. “But I have to say, I thought you were a little . . . odd.”
“Is that a polite term for cray-cray?”
“Well, you were wearing a fairy costume.”
“It was my grandmother’s nightgown.”
He lifted a teasing eyebrow. “Like that’s completely normal?”
I laughed and sat down beside him.
He lifted a strand of my hair. “I just thought you were, as Zoey would say, in’propriate.
And when the girls came home, I had a mental image of them telling their preschool teacher that they’d seen the pretty neighbor lady in Daddy’s bedroom, and having it turn into this whole small-town gossip thing.
” He pulled me down until we were lying side by side.
“And the thing is, I wanted it to be true.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. But I didn’t want to want you.”
“But you couldn’t help yourself, because I’m so amazingly irresistible . . . even though you thought I was deranged.”
“That’s it, exactly.” His eyes were tender and amused.
“I have to ask . . . is this the bed where you and Christine . . . ?”
He closed his eyes. “Conceived Zoey and Sophie? No. I got a new bed after she died in that one.”
“Oh!” My heart lurched. “Oh, I’m so sorry!
Oh, wow . . .” I put my hands over my face.
What was wrong with me, asking a question like that?
“Oh, Matt—I feel terrible. That was completely tactless and thoughtless. I don’t know what I was thinking!
I wasn’t thinking, that’s the problem, and now I’ve gone and spoiled the moment, and you probably wish .
. . I bet you want me to just leave.” I started to stand up.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me back on the bed. “What I want, Hope, is for you to shut up and kiss me.” He grinned at me. “Did I mention you’re a bit odd?”
The terrible tightness in my gut unfurled. I grinned back and let him pull me down, and suddenly his lips were covering mine, and my motormouth-itis came to an abrupt halt, because I was too busy getting thoroughly kissed.
The kiss moved to my neck, then Matt pulled off my shirt, and then my bra.
His finger traced a circle around one nipple, then his mouth followed. Heat shot right to my groin.
“I want to see you naked,” he whispered close to my ear.
“Me, too. I mean, I want to see you that way—not myself. I see myself naked all the time,” I babbled.
He smiled. “Lucky you.”
He stood up, stripped off his shirt, kicked off his shoes, then pulled off his pants and underwear in a single move.
My breath hitched. I’d felt his six-pack the night in the shed, but seeing it was a whole other thing.
It was hard to keep my eyes above his waist, though, because he was massively aroused.
The mattress dipped beneath me as he sank down on it, pulled off my skirt, then wrangled my panties down my legs.
“Oh, man—you’re so beautiful.”
I started to protest that no, my breasts were too small and I hadn’t gone to a gym in ages, but those thoughts were cut off by the smoky heat in his eyes. He obviously liked what he was seeing—and I was so turned on by everything about him that my lady parts felt like they were melting.
He stretched over me and kissed me. I was so aroused I nearly forgot to breathe, but breathing didn’t seem like a necessity.
All that seemed absolutely essential was the continued touch of his hands on my body, the feel of his naked skin against mine, the heat of his erection pressing hard against my belly.
He kissed a trail down my stomach, lower and lower until he reached the part of me that throbbed for his touch.
His fingers and his tongue worked magic.
“Now,” I gasped at length. “I need you now.”
He raised up and pulled a foil packet out of the bedside drawer. A moment later, he hovered over me, taking his time, the thick tip of him easing in, then pulling out until I ached with wanting, with longing, with raw needy need.
And then he drove home, filling me completely. I came on that first thrust, I was so ready—and then it started to build all over again, that delicious pulsating desire, spiraling higher and higher. This time he came with me.
When I finally regained the ability to think, I realized I was crying.
He brushed my cheek with his thumb. “Hey—are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just relieved. Or maybe I mean released. Or both.”
“Me, too.” He grinned down at me. “In fact, I probably should be bawling like a baby.”
I smiled up. “Please don’t.”
“Okay,” he said, and kissed me instead.