Barbara Freethy - Some Kind Of Wonderful (21 page)

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sixteen
Emily was still asleep when Caitlyn and Matt stopped in front of their
respective doors. The silence that had grown between them on the car
ride home lengthened and deepened. It was no longer comfortable but
tense, edgy, filled with unspoken questions, unanswered desires.
"Think Emily is out for the night?" Matt asked as he unlocked his door.
"Probably. She was up all evening."
"That doesn't mean anything."
"I'll keep my fingers crossed for you."
"Does that mean you won't be staying?"
She met his eyes and nervously licked her lips, drawing his attention
to her mouth, which was a big mistake. Because then she thought about
kissing him. And she was trying not to think about that.
"Well, since you have Emily . . ." Her voice drifted away, knowing it
was just an excuse. Emily was a tiny baby and was also fast asleep. As
far as chaperones went, she wasn't
much of one.
Matt pushed open his door. "Running away again, Caitlyn?"
"Hardly. I'm not even moving," she said defensively.
"But in a few minutes you'll be on the other side of that door with the
chain pulled safely across."
"Where do you want me to be?"
"You know where I want you to be, naked, under me, on top of me, all
around me."
She blew out a sharp breath, her nerve endings fired up by his blunt
response. "God, Matt, how can
you just say things like that?"
"It's the truth." His gaze bored into hers. "But you're afraid of the
truth, aren't you?"
"No," she said, although he was partly right. She wasn't just afraid of
the truth, she was afraid of the
way she was feeling about him, like
she was in quicksand, going under without any hope of being saved.
"It's your move, Caitlyn, You know where you can find me." He walked
into his apartment and shut the door.
"Good night," she muttered crossly. "I had a great time. Thanks for the
invitation."
She stood there for a long minute and stared at that closed door. It
was not the way she'd expected things to end. At the very least, she'd
thought maybe a kiss on the cheek, a "Thanks for the nice evening," a
smile. But no, Matt had to make his point. Well, he could wait forever
for her to act.
She unlocked her door and stepped inside her apartment. She threw her
purse down on the table and kicked off her heels. Going to bed would be
a good decision, she told herself. Only problem was she didn't feel
tired, more like wired, jittery, frustrated. Matt had been warming her
up all evening only to
give her the cold shoulder now. Why? Because he
wanted her to come to him.
Well, she could do that if she wanted to. But did she want to? Matt
wouldn't be easy. He wouldn't play by the rules. He wouldn't let her
hide in the shadows, where she was most comfortable. He probably
wouldn't even stay on his side of the bed. Not that she was planning to
go to bed with him. Good heavens! How crazy would that be?
Crazy in love . .. there was that pesky word again. Not love, lust.
Okay, maybe a little liking, but that
was it. Then she remembered the
way he'd asked her about her day earlier, listened to her design plans
for Danielle's wedding dress, and he'd never looked bored. And she
thought about how he'd pulled out her chair at the dinner table and
changed the subject when she'd become uncomfortable, the little
proprietary touches that made her feel protected .. . She didn't just
like him a little. She liked him a lot.
Too much. She had a feeling this one could hurt bad. She also had a
feeling that this one could be spectacular.
"Oh, Matt, why did you have to leave it up to me?" she whispered.
Brian would have either kissed her or said good-night. He wouldn't have
left this indecision between them. But then Brian wasn't here. He was
at home reading some book, trying to figure out how to get
her back. As
if a book could explain her actions; she couldn't even explain her
actions. Nor could she explain how a lone wolf bachelor with a lot of
rough edges had completely stolen her common sense
and replaced it with
overwhelming desire.
This wasn't her—this woman who wanted to strip naked and make wild
passionate love with the sexy man across the hall. She wasn't wild or
passionate. Or was she? The woman before the accident had certainly not
been those things. But those were the days of innocence, when she'd
happily anticipated everything's ending up happily ever after. Now she
knew she'd have to find her own happy—even if it didn't last forever.
She wondered what Brian's book would make of that.
Of course, Matt didn't need a book. He knew exactly which buttons to
push. He probably knew what
she was thinking right now, no doubt
writing her off as someone who couldn't make a decision, couldn't take
a risk, a scared little girl who couldn't say she wanted a man to his
face. Well, she'd show him.
Throwing open the door, she found Matt leaning against the doorway to
his apartment.
"What took you so long?" he drawled.
"You are too annoying to sleep with," she replied, both hating and
loving the fact that he could read her mind.
"I wasn't planning on sleeping," he said with a sexy smile.
She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. There was such a
predatory male look in his
eyes, she was torn between running back into
her apartment and closing the door and taking the last
three steps to
bridge the gap between them.
"We sure are spending a lot of time in the hall," he said. He crooked
his finger for her to come forward. "Come here."
And she went, God help her. Straight into his arms, directly into his
kiss. His arms came around her as
he explored her mouth with a warm
sweep of his tongue. He tasted like the chocolate they'd eaten earlier,
deliciously spicy, dangerously addicting, and her arms crept around his
neck, keeping him close as she wantonly plastered her body against his.
"Uh, Caitlyn, we're still in the hall," he murmured against her mouth.
"So?" She looked him straight in the eye. "I want you. Matt, right
here, right now. What do you say?"
The pulse in his throat leapt at her words, and she felt a feminine
surge of power.
"Uh. . ."
"You want truth, Matt. Here it is." She took a deep breath and looked
straight into his eyes. "I want to make love to you. But there's a part
of me that's really afraid that at the end of it all I'll be in love
with you. And you won't like it, and I probably won't like it either."
"I can't make any promises, Caitlyn," he said in a husky voice.
"I'm not asking for any. I don't have a lot to offer a man—not for the
long-term future anyway."
"You have more than enough to offer any man." He pulled her into his
apartment and backed her up against the door, then kissed her until she
couldn't think straight. His hands ran through her hair,
trapping her
in a passionate prison from which she didn't want to escape. She just
wanted more, more
of his mouth, more of his hands on her body, more of
him.
Caitlyn pushed up his shirt, spreading her hands across his abdomen,
running her fingers up through the fine black hairs on his chest.
Matt groaned. "Slow down, honey, we're not even in the bedroom."
Despite his protest, Caitlyn felt the zip on her black dress hit the
bottom of her spine and a second later the dress was pooled around her
ankles, leaving her in the sexy underwear she'd chosen earlier. Thank
God for a little forethought.
Matt lifted his head and looked at her.
She held on to his arms, trying to keep him close, but he wasn't going
anywhere, he was just staring at her, his gaze drifting from her mouth
to her breasts, to her belly button, and below . ..
"'Wow," he murmured.
She smiled. "That's the best you can do? I might have to get you a
dictionary."
"You might have to get me oxygen," he said with a groan, filling his
hands with her breasts, his thumbs drifting across her nipples, raising
them into tender, pulsating points that demanded even more attention.
His mouth pressed against her lips, then dropped to her cheek, his
tongue sliding along her jaw, dancing past the edge of her ear, his
breath sending shivers from her head to her toes. And then he was
peeling back the straps of her bra, unhooking the front clasp, his
lips, his tongue nuzzling the valley between
her breasts, circling
closer and closer, as he licked his way slowly to the heart of her, his
mouth finally closing over her breast in a kiss of desire, possession .
. .
Caitlyn eagerly pressed her body against his, his denim jeans brushing
roughly against her thighs,
arousing her even further with proof of his
hardness. She dropped her hands to his waistline, to the top snap of
his jeans.
"Yes," Matt murmured, leaving her breast to plant a quick kiss on her
lips before grabbing her hand and whisking her across the room. She
stumbled after him, not at all steady on her feet, but she didn't need
her feet when he pushed her down on the king-size bed in the middle of
his bedroom. Dazed, she simply lay there, watching him as he stood at
the edge of the bed, his ragged breaths raising his chest up and down.
He was all male, tall, strong, muscular. And her heart stopped as he
reached for
his jeans and slowly undid the snaps.
One by one they popped open as if in slow motion, each click giving her
a chance to run ... or not. She raised herself up on her elbows, barely
aware that her breasts were bare and she was wearing nothing more than
a tiny black bikini. She was mesmerized by Matt, by the way he was
watching her, by the
sight he was revealing. She'd never seen a man
strip before, and certainly not one with such slow deliberation.
He slid the jeans down his hips, taking his briefs off along the way,
leaving nothing to the imagination. Not that her imagination could have
sculpted such a handsome specimen.
"Now you," he said huskily, tipping his head toward her underwear.
She hesitated, thinking it would be easier if he stripped her. But then
she realized that was what this was all about, choices, truth. He
wanted her to come to him without hiding anything. She lifted her hips
and pulled off her panties. "Is this the way you want me?"
"It's one of the ways," he said as he came down on the bed, covering
her body with his. "But I'm open
to suggestions."
She loved the feel of his skin against hers, his hands in her hair, his
hardness pressing between her thighs, and she wanted him so bad she
didn't think she could wait one more second.
"Why don't you come inside," she invited as his mouth drifted against
her ear.
"What about foreplay?" he asked, his fingers sliding up her thigh.
"Haven't we been playing all night?" she asked on a sigh as his penis
pressed against her hot spot.
"I want you to be ready," he whispered.
"I was ready three days ago."
He looked into her eyes and said, "You're going to kill me."
"I'm going to try."
He reached over her and opened the drawer in the nightstand and pulled
out a condom. His hand shook as he ripped open the package, and it was
that tiny tremor that told her this was absolutely meant to be, for
Matt was as nervous and as needy as she was.
Caitlyn put her hand over his and smiled into his eyes. "Let me." She
pressed him down on his back and slid the condom on, then straddled his
legs. His hands moved from her waist to her hips as she took him into
her body, delighting in the breaching of the final barrier between them.
They moved together in delicious friction, her breasts against his
chest, her mouth against his mouth. Each movement drew her muscles
tighter and tighter and tighter, until she burst with pleasure, her
cries mingling with his as they caught each other on the way down.
Mail put his hand around her neck and pulled her face into the crook of
his shoulder. "Don't move."
''I wasn't planning on it."
"Good. Because I'm not leaving until you kick me out."
Caitlyn sighed with satisfied pleasure. Kicking him out was the last
thing she wanted to do.
Matt awoke, bewildered at first by the fragrant womanly-scent
surrounding him. Then he realized Caitlyn was curled up next to him,
her head resting on his chest, her arm flung across his waist, one of
her legs tangled up with his.
She was all woman and all his .. . the thought came to him
unexpectedly, shocking him with the truth.
He wanted her to be all
his, and only his. How had that happened? He'd slept with women before
and
not awoken with this possessive need to keep her close throughout
the rest of the night. In fact, he was usually the one who got up and
dressed in the dark of the night and went home to his own bed. But this
time Caitlyn was in his bed, and he didn't want to leave.
She'd touched him in ways he'd never imagined, not just great physical
sex, but mind sex, too. She'd made him laugh. She'd made him shake.
She'd made him want more. Damn.
What had she said—that she might fall in love with him after sleeping
with him. Well, he had a feeling
she wasn't going to be in love alone.
Jesus! What was he thinking? He wasn't in love. He was .. . Well,
he
didn't know what he was, but love ... What was love anyway? It had
always been a transient emotion in his life at best. He didn't know how
to handle it, and he sure as hell didn't know how to keep it.
"Are you awake?" Caitlyn asked in a soft voice as she lifted her head
off his chest.
He only wished the shadows weren't so deep. He wanted to see her,
really see her. They would have to make love in the sunshine so he
could watch every expression travel through her eyes. She hid nothing
from him. This woman who'd been living with secrets had bared her body
and her soul to him. And the gift humbled him in a way he'd never
imagined.
"I'm awake," he replied, even though it was unnecessary, because she
was smiling into his eyes with a love that took his breath away. At
least he thought it was love. Maybe it was just the aftermath of great
sex. How could he be sure?
Her hand slid down his thigh, and he caught his bottom lip with his
teeth. "Don't start something you
can't finish, honey."
"Who says I can't finish it?"
"Apparently, Emily does," he said with a groan as the baby began to
cry. "It must be the witching hour." He glanced at the bedroom clock.
"Two a.m. Right on schedule."

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