In the thrall of memory, she groaned, the sound vibrating in her chest, in a place that echoed with emptiness.
Jonah, she thought. Be like Jonah again. Use me as much as I use you. You were almost there that one night….
“Hey,” he said again, voice garbled, familiar in its lust.
So familiar…
The shock of longing stimulated her, and she nipped at his neck. Her heart pounded like a broken, out-of-control machine stamping steel into jagged shapes. Condensation from its urgent thudding trickled down and down, lubricating her.
He seemed to sense that she was about to attack, as she’d done that time at the hospital. Maybe that’s why he slowed things down now, loosening his hold on her wrist. He slipped his hand behind her head, cradling it, deepening their kisses.
At first, Dawn didn’t know exactly what to do. Usually, she’d be down a guy’s pants by now, guiding him out, shucking off her clothes to get him inside of her as soon as possible. After that, she’d be cleansed of him.
But Matt wasn’t letting her do that. He was slow driving, taking his time with each suck, each nip, running his other hand over her neck.
Dawn tried to calm her breathing, but it was impossible. Her heartbeat skittered, her body becoming one long throb after another, one long melt.
Making out, she thought. Is this what it was?
When she tried to take things a step further, stroking her hand up his thigh, he blocked her, weaving his fingers through hers and ending the kiss with an easy sip of her lips.
His breath bathed her ear. “I’ve got something for you.”
Lust nudged at her. “I’ll bet you do.”
“Dawn.” He laughed, the vibrations of it tapping over her skin. “Humor me. You like games. You like pushing things, don’t you?”
She did a half wince, half purr, and he laughed again.
“Come here.” He pulled her up to a stand. “I’ve got something that’ll…You’ll see.”
God help her, but her gaze traveled right to his zipper, where she hoped to find an erection waiting. But his untucked shirt covered the details, damn it.
He held up a finger, grinning, then went to his bedroom.
Without her.
“Am I supposed to follow you?” she asked, mentally crossing her fingers while fidgeting in pained frustration.
“No, stay out there.” He was clearly amused.
Great. She waited, body belting out SOS codes in the most uncomfortable places.
What was he do—?
One of those shivers attacked her again, and she reached for her revolver, spinning toward the window, hoping—and not hoping—to discover something there.
Shoot, shoot! her dark half said, loving the power.
But…there was nothing. Nothing but the wind and the bird-of-paradise.
“Okay,” Matt said.
Adrenaline screeching to a halt, she shoved her weapon back into the holster before he could see it, then turned around to find him walking out of the bedroom.
You almost lost it again, she thought. Get it together, Dawn.
He was clueless to her drama. And it was pretty cute how he was just standing there with a grin, holding some folded material.
“Um,” she said optimistically, “lingerie?”
“Not quite.” He was blushing. Blushing.
Endeared by his shyness, stumped by it, she shook her head. “Come on, what is it?”
“I thought…It’s…”
“Good God.” Dawn strode forward, all her aggression surfacing. “It doesn’t look like a French maid’s outfit.”
He made as if to keep the material away from her, but then he held up a hand. “Let me explain first—”
There was no stopping her. She grabbed at the material. It belled out, filmy and flowery, into a dress.
It took a moment for her mind to wrap around what she was seeing.
“I found it in the window of a vintage store,” he said, blushing even more furiously now. “Can you believe it?”
She was trying not to.
Dawn reached out, fingering the sheer material, not accepting what she touched.
It was a copy of the dress Eva Claremont had worn in her most famous movie, Daydreamer.
She remembered how his gaze had gone all goofy that day at lunch when she’d said Eva’s name. Remembered how most men got that way with just a mention.
“You’re not expecting me to put this on,” she said, voice quavering, in what she told herself was only anger.
“Oh.” He awkwardly looked at it. “I just—”
“Tell me this isn’t the only way you’ll find me attractive.”
“Dawn, wait, wait. I didn’t mean—”
“Is this a joke?”
He just shook his head, the dress hanging from one hand like the most loaded weapon she’d ever encountered. If it wasn’t for the gleam of something in his gaze—disappointment?—she would’ve felt sorry for him.
Would’ve.