Saints and Sinners (A Classic Romance) (16 page)

"You're tearing me apart, Matt. Why are you doing this to me?"

"Ask your heart, not me, for the answer. And while you're at it, I'm getting rid of your clothes. I want you to feel me under your skin as deeply as you're under mine."

She cried openly as she stood and he peeled off panties and hose and black velvet skirt.

She was nude. Cool air brushed her skin. His mouth tasted her belly, dipped into her navel, then nuzzled the triangle at the apex of her thighs. Her knees gave way. His hands steadied her, then gripped her buttocks.

"Lie down on the bed," he commanded her softly. "Lie down beside me. For me.
Only... for...
me
."

She wasn't aware that she'd obeyed, only that somehow she was on the bed with Matthew stretched out beside her. They snuggled, face-to-face, knee-to-knee, embracing. Until he skimmed downward, and she clasped his mouth to her breast.

Moist heat enveloped her. He greedily sucked, raked his teeth gently against the peak while she thrust her chest higher, seeking a perfect fit.

"You're made for me." His words vibrated against her skin that was fevered and pulsing. The sudden slide of a testing finger left her writhing, when it burrowed deep inside, her hips rose off the bed.

"Pretend with me," he urged. "Imagine more than this part of me inside you. Pretend it's us, and our bodies are one. Can you feel it? See it? I'm filling you up and you're taking me. The good. The unholy. But you want all of me. You can have it, beloved. The price is your trust."

"I'm dying," she heard herself say. "Matthew, you're killing me."

"Then die the sweetest death at my hands." His hands were no longer the only instrument of his loving destruction. His head moved between her legs and his moving, sensual torment drove her to piteous whimpers for his tender mercy.

He lay on top of her, laced their fingers together, then spread her arms.

"Profess your love for me, Dee. Your lie of omission is depriving us both of what we need. Tonight and beyond."

"Don't—don't love you," she gasped out. When he released her hands, she entreated him with the rising of her hips, the clench of her nails into his back. He grunted in satisfaction, then wooed her with a slow buck and grind that made her strain for more than a mock coupling. Never had she felt such wondrous sensations. Never had she hurt with such a horrible emptiness.

"Beg for my love," he demanded. "Beg me to give you what you won't give me."

"Love me," she cried, her resistance all but dissolved by his teasing thrusts. "I'm begging you to say that you love me. Matthew, let it be enough."

His laugh was triumphant. "I do love you, Dee. Enough not to be where I belong. Inside you, all the way inside you. That's how deep my love goes." He moved against her once more, before plunging two fingers deep where he'd sworn by his love not to enter.

She orgasmed. Her muscles went taut, then quivered with the frenzy of sensations. Her many cries of his name were greedily swallowed by his mouth. It was beautiful, poetic in its pain. But what she experienced went beyond the physical. His was the absolute claiming of her soul, the ultimate violation of her emotional safety.

"Why?" she sobbed, feeling his fingers gently trace her tears. "Why did you do this to me, Matthew?"

"Because I love you. Because you tried to make me believe that you don't love me."

She raised her hand to his face. Her heart was breaking. It was breaking because they had crossed the line from what they had been to lovers. It was breaking because she loved him more than ever. He was the one man she could marry, spend her life with and thank God for each day he filled her existence. For that reason, she had to remain silent. For that reason, of all the men in the world, he was the one she must not take.

But when she felt the hardness in him, she knew that she couldn't turn away from him yet.

She slid a hand between them and fondled him. "Let me, Matthew. Let me give
you
ease."

"No." His refusal was quick and final, as unyielding as the flesh he denied her.

"And is this because you love me?"

"This is because..." He kissed her hard and completely, then got up. "Because I won't compromise on this any more than I won't on what I want from you."

"You're leaving?" she asked in disbelief as he reached for his shirt. "You can't leave me now."

"I never leave you, Dee. Even when you can't see me I'm there." Matthew regarded her long and desirously before he quickly covered her up with a comforter.

Dee was beyond speech, beyond anything but the need to bring him back into her arms. Until Matthew was already unlocking the door. "But— but where are you going?"

"To church."

"To church? You're leaving me like this to go to church? Matthew, please. Come back."

"While I'm at church I'll still be here," he assured her. "Just think about me, about what we've shared, and I'm that close to you. But right now I'm in need of some serious prayer. Any requests while I'm there?"

"Yes. Ask why a man leaves a naked woman he says he loves. Ask why he won't let her give him even a partial satisfaction."

"I don't have to check with anyone to tell you that. I won't ever be satisfied until you give me all that you are. Your secrets. Fears. Hopes and dreams. At least tonight you gave me enough to sustain my faith in us. I can wait for the rest."

"You could get tired of waiting, Matt."

He speared her with a look that made her shake. It was all-knowing, as if he saw through her and could read her thoughts while his own remained a mystery.

"Judging from tonight, I doubt it. I will get that commitment from you—and once given, we'll seal our vows." His gaze roved over her. "Think about it, Dee. Making love for hours, Tangled legs and rumpled sheets.
Sex..
. shared—endless pleasures."

Chapter 11

Two days later, early on Saturday morning, Matt received a phone call. He sat straighter in bed as he listened to Sally Henderson's recounting of her mother breaking her hip on Thanksgiving, and, Reverend, so sorry to call with the Christmas cantata at stake, but as the only child of a widow, she'd be out of town indefinitely tending dear Mother. Matthew offered his usual calming words, then hung up.

"Yes!" he whooped, raising a victory fist.
Your will be done, Father. I hope the mother gets well But if it takes a while, I could use the time
on
this end. And I won't waste a second. I'm on the mission even as we speak.

Without so much as a concluding amen, Matt strode naked to the kitchen and went to the freezer. Glass in hand, he returned to his bed, and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?"

"Love the husky voice. Anyone ever tell you how sexy you sound first thing in the morning?"

Dee's sleep-laden murmur sounded like a no. He wished that were true, though reason denied the possibility.

"I missed you yesterday," she said with a yawn. Once she woke beside him each morning, he would cover her yawns with a kiss. "How did things turn out at the hospital?"

"I'm afraid one of the Smith kids didn't make it. Because of that wreck, Andy won't be scribbling in the hymnal tomorrow."

"That poor family, they must be grieving terribly."

"They are. It was a long day and night for the Smiths."

"And for you, Matt."

"Yes," he agreed somberly. "Dealing with a tragedy like that is hard for me too, but I'm glad I was there to give what little help I could. I'm conducting the funeral Monday. I know you're not very close with the family, but I'm sure they would appreciate your presence. I would too."

"I'll be there. I only wish I could have been there for you when you got home last night."

"Then we share the same wish." A wish that might come true quicker now that some additional ammunition had come his way. "But that's not the reason I called. I just got word of a job opening for a pianist. Think you might be interested?"

"Would I! Where is it? When can I apply?"

"You can apply this morning. It's an opportunity that needs filling immediately."

"Wonderful. Do you have any idea how much it pays?"

He'd suspected Dee was running short of money. Even though he couldn't offer her as much as he wanted to—and would once their incomes cozied up in a joint bank account—he was glad to do what he could for the present.

"Not much, unfortunately. But I do understand the benefits are great. I happen to know who's hiring and he's a super guy, very understanding, and easy to work with. He's supposed to be at the church in an hour or so. Think you could be there for an audition?"

"As soon as we hang up I'm in the tub and getting ready."

Matthew imagined her submerged in the water, a vision that caused an immediate reaction under the covers.

"But you're in bed now, aren't you?" His voice was seductive.

"Yes," she whispered hesitantly.

"So am I." He paused, allowing her imagination to aid his ploy before stirring the flame. "I sleep in the raw... but I remember that you wear a nightgown. Is your bedroom door shut?"

"Yes." The sound of her swallowing carried over the wires. Matthew was no less than delighted with her quick response.

"Good. Do something for me? Describe what you're wearing."

"It's a—a long white flannel nightgown. With pink satin ribbons tied in front."

"Ah... I can almost see it. The way it's twisted at your hips from your moving in the night, and the flannel on your bare skin as smooth and warm as my palms. But wouldn't you be more comfortable without anything on?"

"Yes," she gasped. "Matthew, what are you—"

"Take it off. Feel the ribbons, Dee, so nice and silky between your fingers. Are they shaking? Yes? That's good. Especially with your eyes closed, and you pretending it's me tugging them loose. Feel my hands on your shoulders, sliding the nightgown from your body. It is off now, isn't it?"

A breathy moan was her answer.

"Imagine me stroking your breasts. Do it for me since I'm not there?"

"Matt—Matt, I've never—"

"You will do it, won't you? For me. Because you love me and you know how perfectly we'll fit." He blew softly into the receiver and was rewarded with a tortured groan. "Pretend that you've said those three magic words and we're making love. Can you feel me touch you, how your breasts are responding to my mouth?"

"Lord... oh, my... oh..."

"Ah, Dee. They're so soft. Luscious. Now, listen." Suppressing a groan of his own, Matthew lifted the ice-filled glass close to the receiver. He shook the cubes. "The ice, beloved. Do you hear the ice? You must, since I can hear you moaning. The ice is sliding between my fingers. Cold, so cold on your skin."

"Hot," she gasped. "So... hot..."

"Mmm. And
wet."
He jiggled the glass once more, then blew a stream of air into the mouthpiece. "Enjoy your bath, Dee. And one other thing—"

"Ah... ah, sweet heaven, Matthew—what?"

"I love you." He sent her a parting kiss before murmuring, "See you at church."

He hung up before she could come down from the state of arousal he'd left her in. Stretching broadly, with a grin just as wide, Matt patted the empty space beside him. He could almost forget his own extreme discomfort when he considered his ruse bringing Dee that much closer to filling another open position: Wife.

"The gloves are off, Dee," he said. "Your new employer's ready to play hard ball. And lady, you ain't seen nothin' yet."

* * *

As Dee played the postlude, she watched Matthew descend from the pulpit. He caught her gaze, one that mirrored the yearning she felt inside. A sense of connection, of oneness, passed between them before he broke it to touch a member's drooped shoulder. Taking someone else's hand, nodding his head to another, he slowly made his way outside.

The piano keys seemed to respond to the many emotions he evoked in her. The music flowed as everyone stood and exchanged hugs or words of sorrow for the Smiths. Matthew had spoken of life, of humanity's relationship with death, and had given her a new perspective on it.