“Heaven,” he said, and he moved over me. Filling me, emptying me. I flexed my body to meet his thrusts. “Not yet, no,” Matt panted whenever he felt me nearing the edge. Then he slowed and I slowed, and we started that exquisite rising spiral all over again.
“I want to be with you,” he whispered in my ear. “You’re soaked for me…”
I caressed his silky hair and rubbed his back when he began to move more urgently. This wasn’t our usual sex—rough and dirty and torturous. This was about love and mutual need, and my heart burned as hot as my pleasure.
I wrapped my legs around Matt’s waist. His jeans rubbed along my inner thighs, his abdomen grinding over my clit. This time, we didn’t slow down.
We gazed at one another in a state of wonder.
“Need this.” He mouthed the words again.
I fisted my hands in his hair.
My climax came as a slow shock, mounting in intensity until I was shaking, and I felt Matt coming inside me. Is anything more intimate?
I watched ecstasy unfold on his face against a backdrop of leaves and nighttime sky. It was, inadvertently, the most romantic sex of my life, and afterward we clung to one another.
Only then did the full weight of relief settle on me. Matt is going to live like a normal person. He’s in Denver, not hiding, and he wants a life with me. A life we can actually share.
We could really make a go of it now.
And if we failed? At least we tried.
I felt, too, the darkness of the last four and a half months—Matt at the cabin, me in Denver, lies and secrets. Worries. Quick calls. Lonely nights.
No more.
No more waiting and wondering about the future. No more living with one foot in the real world and one foot in Matt’s world. No more choosing between the two.
But I had been willing to give up a normal romance to be with Matt, because I loved him. Now he was willing to give up his sanctuary to be with me, because he loved me.
He loved me.
My happiness eased into soft, uncontrollable sobs. Matt held me close.
“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s all right now, little bird.”
His quiet voice went on and on in the dark.
Chapter 44
MATT
After the night Hannah cried, I assumed she would come home. She didn’t. She “still needed to think,” she said, and she “might have more stipulations.”
On Friday afternoon, I met with Pam and Gail Wieder of Denver Buzz. Gail showed me around the set, thanked me for agreeing to appear, and briefly reviewed the program. Afterward, Pam and the staff talked me through a pile of paperwork.
“I need you here at seven on Wednesday,” Pam said. “Here. I’m not going to hold your hand, Matthew. Call me when you arrive. We’ll go over everything, they might want to do a little makeup, then we’ll rehearse some more and—”
“Makeup?” I sneered.
“This is TV, Matthew. Don’t be na?ve. Also”—she glanced at my gray shirt—“no gray. And no crazy prints. Wear something solid, bold, a rich color that won’t wash out under the light. No red and no white. Do you have blue? Well, of course you do. Wear blue.”
Pam went on talking as we left the building. She gestured officiously as she spoke, tapping my shoulder for emphasis.
I stared at the pavement. The gray day suited my mood. Where was Hannah?
“Your job this weekend is to memorize the talking points. Hit your points. Less is more. You’re conveying a message. And do not ramble.”
“Hannah … you think she’ll watch the show?”
Pam sniffed. “Not sure, Matthew. Not relevant.”
“Mm. Sorry.” I leaned against my Lexus.
“Any relevant questions? I need to get to the office.”
“Will Knopf publish Night Owl?”
Pam laughed and began looking for her keys. “Knopf will publish anything you write, but you can’t be serious. Haven’t you already—” She cut herself short.
I knew where she was going.
Hadn’t I already damaged my relationship enough?
“Hannah’s a good deal more open-minded than you know, Pam. And she’s a bit of a writer herself. You better watch out; you might find yourself in a book.”
I opened my car door and lingered, waiting for Pam’s riposte.