“I am.”
Matt instantly shook his head. “Nope. The only time I have seen the real Rebecca was when you were drunk. And all it takes is one look at this house to know the level of hiding going on.”
“What hiding?”
“Please, like you don’t know what I’m talking about, you self-help guru,” he said with a chuckle. “Let me put it this way—I’ve never known another living soul to alphabetize their canned goods.”
“There is that,” she sighed. “Did you notice the color coding, too?”
Matt laughed. “I think somewhere in that perfect house and in this perfect body is you, who is not so perfect, just dying to get out and breathe.”
Astounded by his insight, Rebecca lifted her head and blinked up at him. “That’s so true!” she admitted woefully. “But I don’t know how. I’ve tried everything.”
“Not everything,” he said, and pulled away from her so that he could see into her eyes. “Not. Everything,” he muttered again, his eyes all but smoldering in the pale moonlight. “Let me help you, Rebecca,” he murmured as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead. “We’ll peel some of those layers away and see what lies beneath.” He leaned down so that his lips brushed against her ear. “I’ve seen you come, you know . . . and I think you can do better.”
Just knock her over with a feather now, because she thought she could, too, and if he kept it up, she might do it right there. But Matt’s hand was sliding down her bare arm, to her breast. Rebecca slowly drew her breath. “You know you can do better,” he whispered. “Say it. Say, I want to come . . . better.”
The ground felt like it was shifting beneath her; a damp fog had swept into her head, and she was a slave to his touch. “I . . . I want to come harder,” she whispered. “Matt.”
He made a guttural sound deep in his throat, and in that dangerous fog, Matt took her hand, started for the house. Rebecca’s heart was pounding. He mounted the porch steps in twos, walked right through the mess of dogs in the kitchen and down the long hallway to her room. Once there, he easily pushed her into the middle of the room, then shut the door and turned around, pressing his back against it and smiling devilishly. The bathroom light was still on; it was just enough light that she could see the hard glint in his eyes as his gaze casually roamed her figure.
“I’m going to help you really let go, if you think you can handle it.”
Could she? She felt light-headed, almost dizzy. His way with words was intoxicating, and when she nodded, her head felt loose on her shoulders.
Matt smiled. “Then take off your shoes.”
That was not exactly what she had expected. Rebecca looked down at her sandals and kicked them off her feet, across the room.
“Now let your hair down.”
She thought about making a quip, but obediently pulled the band from her hair, letting it fall in silky waves to cover her shoulders.
The smile on Matt’s lips faded; he just looked at her, taking her in, then said, “I want you to light some candles and place them on the nightstands. Then turn off that light.”
“Yes, sir,” she said with a playful salute, then padded over to her dresser, lit several candles, and moved them to the nightstand on either side of her bed. When she had turned off the bathroom light and returned to the middle of the room, Matt put a finger to his lips. “Don’t talk,” he said softly.
Rebecca smiled, mimicked zipping her lips, locking them, and tossing away the key.
Matt slowly pushed away from the door, his arms still folded, and walked toward her. “Are you wearing panties?”
“Of course!”
He quickly pressed a finger to her lips and shook his head. “Take them off.”
She lifted a brow; Matt nodded. With a little laugh, Rebecca managed to push her panties down to mid thigh without actually lifting her dress, then very delicately reached under her hem and pulled them down. As she moved to toss them aside, Matt caught her hand and took them from her.
“Now your bra.”
“Ah—”
“No talking, Rebecca—you said you could handle it, didn’t you?”
She nodded.
He smiled approvingly. “Take off your bra.”
Her skin felt warm with anticipation; a little shaky, she reached behind her, fumbled over the fabric of her dress with the clasp of her bra for a few seconds while Matt gazed at her breasts, then slipped her arm out of one strap, and the other, and let her bra fall to the floor beneath her dress.
“Good,” he said. With his gaze on hers, he lifted his hand and let his fingers dance across her nipple, tweaking it beneath the fabric of her dress. “Go ahead,” he said low, watching her closely. “Take off your dress.”