Chapter Nineteen
Matt came to see her parents off, brandishing a bag of freshly baked bagels for the road and promises to look them up on Facebook when he got home. It was a cute, boyfriend-like thing to do, and her mom practically salivated when he pecked her on the cheek and promised to look after Whitney.
Her heart swelled with admiration for a man so wholly committed to wooing her parents that he’d remember to feed them. Who was she kidding? She swelled for him, period. But he had yet to look her squarely in the eye.
Something was wrong.
They stood side by side as her parents rounded the corner, waving, cheerful on all fronts. The moment the license plate was out of their line of vision, Matt jumped away and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “Well, that’s done. We don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“Oh, poor thing, did your halo get a little tarnished these past few weeks?” Whitney strove to lighten the mood. Where was her cheerful Matt? Where was the man who made her feel better no matter what kind of gloom and doom lurked ominously near?
He squinted as he turned to face her, the morning sun casting a glow that was rather heavenly on his face, making him appear much younger than his already younger-than-her years. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.”
Her heart stopped. “Then don’t do it,” she replied, her words coming fast and automatic.
Illusions weren’t something Whitney harbored willingly, and she recognized his tone for what it was—the end of a relationship that had been stamped with an expiration date since day one. She’d pushed too hard to keep him away. He was finally tired of pushing back.
The thought of losing Matt just when she was beginning to see how wrong she’d been, scratched at Whitney’s throat, aching and raw. She wasn’t ready to pull the plug. Not now. Not yet. Something hot and sharp prickled in her sinuses.
“I mean it, Matt. Don’t say something you’ll regret—don’t give life to words you’re unsure of. Once you put them out there, you can’t take them back again.”
“I know that.” His face screwed up as if in pain. “Don’t you think I know that?”
Yes. She also knew he was much too noble to continue having sex with her once he made up his mind to move on. Dammit, he wasn’t ready—not when Laura still had her claws underneath his skin. Not when Whitney wasn’t sure she could exist in a world without him.
“Why don’t we go inside?” she said. Inside, where it was safe and she could lock the doors and make him listen.
Is this what it was like for Jared? Screaming with a thousand things to say, scared to death it was too late to say them?
Matt nodded once and followed her into her condo, his head ducked in a gesture of surrender. Unsure what else to do, she poured them both a glass of iced tea with actual mint floating in it. Maybe she could disarm him with domesticity.
It didn’t take. He ran his finger along the outer edge of the glass where condensation beaded, not drinking, not talking, not looking at her.
He was miserable. Galahad to the very end, unable to say the words that would rip her heart, still beating, from her chest. Well, she could at least give him this.
“Should I make this easy on you?” she asked softly, the words bitter on her tongue. “Hey, Whitney. It’s been fun while it lasted, but I think maybe it’s time you and I went our separate ways. I hereby declare myself successfully rebounded, and shall go on to enrich the lives of understated, quiet women the world over.”
She expected him to be grateful, to at least give her a few points for laying it out there, but when he looked up, the color had leached from his face and his eyes were stricken.
“It’s that guy from last night, isn’t it? The one you were dancing with?”
Whitney blinked, her eyes moist. “What are you talking about? What does Jared have to do with anything?”
Matt never knew how profoundly one word could affect a person. He’d long been a proponent of the sticks-and-stones motto, a staple when your primary demographic required rhymes and singsongs to understand complex social problems.
But that word, that name, worked more powerfully on him than a hundred sticks, a thousand stones.
“That was Jared? The one you used to date? The one who...”
“Acted like a certified a*shole and cheated on me?” Whitney’s laugh was rough and shaky, and she brushed quickly at her eyes. “The one and only. He crashed my birthday party.”
Matt’s head spun. “I don’t understand. I thought he lived halfway across the world.”
Whitney took a long sip from her iced tea, staring at the empty region a few feet above Matt’s head. “He did.”
“Did?” Past tense.
“Did, does—I don’t know.” Whitney sighed. “He says he’s here to help with the spa. Kendra and John want to make him our fourth partner.”
“Oh.” There didn’t seem much more to say. The love of Whitney’s life—the one man who’d had the power to touch her heart, who’d wasted the incredible opportunity afforded by her love—was here in Pleasant Park. A doctor. Rich. Powerful. By all accounts, a saint among men.
Matt had never felt so sick in his life, but more than the overwhelming urge to run and hide from this conversation, he wanted to hit something. A sweltering surge of anger encroached just on the edges of his vision, making it difficult to distinguish dark from light.
“Is that why you were arguing with him last night? Is he moving here?”
“What is this really about?” Whitney dropped her glass and stepped forward, warily, almost as if approaching a dangerous animal. She is. Matt had never before teetered so close to the abyss. “Matt, what was it you wanted to say to me? What was it you promised you wouldn’t do?”
“I wasn’t going to ask about him.” I wasn’t going to care.
“Is that all?” She let out a shaky laugh. “I thought—”
But what she thought remained a mystery, because she shook herself and stopped in the middle of her forward movement. “Oh, my God. You know what this means, don’t you? You’re jealous. You’re jealous of my ex-boyfriend.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Matt firmed his stance. He’d never been jealous of anyone in his life. He felt the occasional pang of regret when friends got married, sometimes wished he’d made more attempts to further his career. And it was impossible not to regret Laura’s infidelity. But jealousy? No way. This felt mostly like he’d been plucked from the earth and tossed too near the sun, like he was still falling.
“Is it?” A small smile, tentative and unsure, crossed her face. “My ex-boyfriend slithers into town and you’re suddenly a new man, all territorial and angry. What would you call it?”
“You still have feelings for him,” he said, changing the subject.
“That is the one thing I can safely say I do not have.”
“I was watching you last night. You might not be aware of it, but there were feelings.”
Whitney stood up straighter and jabbed a finger his direction. Whatever lethargy she’d been feeling before was suddenly yanked out of the room, replaced by the brimstone and brilliance of the woman he loved. “Don’t you dare transfer your dysfunctional relationship over to me. You’re the one who hangs around your ex-wife’s house, buying her aspirin and refusing to sever the ties. Not me. I’m happy to report that what I feel for Jared is bitter and cold.”
Matt waited for her to continue.
“Don’t look at me like that. You should trade that skepticism for a pen and paper to take notes. When Jared cheated on me, I would have given anything to be able to leave him in my dust, but I couldn’t. I had to watch, wait, fester—exactly what you’ve been doing for the past year.”
A surge of emotion filled Matt’s chest, constricting his breathing with how forcefully it hit. Since when was taking care of someone in need considered festering? “So what does it mean inviting him to become your business partner twelve years later? Is there an expiration date on this sort of thing? Am I only allowed to help Laura a dozen years from now?”
Whitney frowned. “I didn’t invite him. He just showed up.”
“I don’t see the difference.”
Neither did Whitney. If anyone had asked her, the last thing she wanted out of this life was to ever look at Jared’s smug, conceited face again. She’d seen that face every day of medical school and residency, in all her peers begging her for a good word to try and get close to the great Dr. Fine and his feats of benevolence. F*ck benevolence, she’d told them. Build a nice private practice and buy a sports car instead.
Yet here Jared was—and seemingly to stay. Maybe it was Matt’s sudden burst of jealousy, the reversal of roles that placed her directly in her ex-lover’s path, but she felt suddenly magnanimous. Screw it. Jared could help them open the spa. He could help them open a thousand spas.
Just so long as she had Matt by her side.
“I think we should start dating,” she announced.
“Very funny.” Matt didn’t look like he found it very amusing. “Didn’t you just break up with me?”
“Not on purpose. I thought you were going to break up with me first—I was trying to save you the agony.” When he didn’t exhibit any of the joy one might hope for in just such a situation, she added, “I’m sorry?”
“I thought sex with no strings attached means never having to say you’re sorry.”
A soft chortle escaped her lips. He was teasing her—now, of all times. Ah, how far things had come since the day they’d first met. She lowered her voice and dropped her eyelids seductively. “Think about it—you, me, buying pottery together. Isn’t this what you’ve wanted since the beginning?”
Matt’s movements stilled and he took a full minute to examine her closely. She tried not to squirm or make a face, but it was hard. Here she was, laying her heart out on the line, and he was judging, watching, tapping into his uncanny ability to unsettle her without saying a word.
“Define what you mean by dating.”
She released a slow breath. “Since when have you become such a cynic?”
“I’m a realist. What’s the catch?”
“No catch. I think we should go public, make it official. We’ll hold hands in the park, eat romantic dinners for two, make out in the back of taxis on the way home. You’d like making out in the back of taxis, wouldn’t you?”
“What’s the catch?” he repeated, his tone surprisingly firm. “Why all this now? Is it because you’re really ready to take our relationship to the next level, or is it because you want to prove to your ex-boyfriend that you’ve moved on?”
Damn him. Damn Matt and his nobility. Damn Matt and his never-ending pursuit of all things good and honest.
“The timing isn’t great, I’ll admit,” Whitney said. And there was no way to be one hundred percent sure Jared’s involvement didn’t have a role in spurring her on. “But I mean this from the absolute bottom, softest part of my heart. I want you. All the time. Day and night. With every fiber of my being. Please let me be more than your rebound girl.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Answer my question first.”
Impatience took the place of tenderer emotions. “Nothing is black and white. Sometimes there are lovely shades of gray thrown in. I like the gray area. It’s where the good sex is.”
“Can you be serious for one second?” He gripped his hair with both hands, his glance pained. “If you really want to be my girlfriend, I need to know where it’s coming from. I need to know you aren’t going to turn around and change your mind in a few days.”
She reached for him, but he backed away as if her touch could burn. It could.
“I’m not you, Whitney. I can’t turn that part of me on and off like it’s a switch.”
Matt wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe her so much it was a physical pain, lodged in his chest, rendering him unable to breathe.
No matter how long she kept looking at him like that, how many times she promised today’s conversation had nothing to do with Jared, he kept coming back to two realizations. The first was that Whitney was clearly willing to go to incredible lengths to avoid her ex. The second was that no woman took such careful pains to avoid a man unless she either hated him or loved him beyond her own strength.
Matt suspected the latter. And it was killing him.
“You’ve seen all my tricks.” Her voice grew soft, pleading. “I’ve shown you my whole playbook. The sex part is all I’m good at—it’s all I know. For the past few months, I’ve used that to help you, to get you to realize that life exists beyond your ex-wife and the rules you’re determined to live by. Now it’s my turn for help. Show me how the rest of this relationship stuff works. Teach me how to care for you without losing a part of my soul.”
“I can’t.”
Whitney turned away, tears forming in her oversized brown eyes. He reached up and wiped them away, cupping her face and forcing her to look at him.
“Such a thing doesn’t exist,” he explained softly, “because in order to do this the right way, we both have to put our souls on the line. The only thing I can safely promise you is that I will give everything I have to make sure it’s safe while in my keeping.”
“Oh, Matt.”
He didn’t let go yet. “If we do this, I want you to understand—we do it my way.”
“And by this, you mean...?”
“All of it. Everything. I want to rent bad movies and eat good takeout together. I want to cuddle after sex. I want to be able to tell you how I feel whenever I feel like it.”
Her mouth parted, lower lip trembling as he made his demands.
“I want to take my time exploring every inch of your body. And I want to kiss you like I mean it every time.”
So he did. Unable to keep himself apart from her for another second, he captured her mouth with his. Falling into her was so easy. Her breath was a whisper, her tongue a gift, her lips a promise. Matt held her close, his hands entwined in her hair, unable to pull away. He could remain holding her in his arms forever.
But she eventually pulled back, gasping. Her skin flushed pink and tempting. “I think I can get used to that one. Any other rules of yours I should know about?”
He couldn’t help but smile. Always business, his woman. “Just one. I’m even going to make you meet my sister.”
Laughter lit her face, and Matt realized it was his favorite sight in the world, seeing her glow just for him. “Why, Matt Fuller—I think that’s the least sexy thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Does that turn you off?” he asked, kissing her along her neck, taking his time with the delicate curves where her pulse beat hot and strong. “Should I tell you about how Hilly likes to trim her husband’s nose hairs for him?”
She angled her head, giving him better access to the soft, sloping skin of her shoulders. All this unexplored territory. His territory.
“I’m practically thrumming with anticipation.”
“Or maybe we can talk about rashes,” he murmured. “Those are sexy. Once, when I was a kid, we went swimming in a pond over by the quarry and got swimmer’s itch. We had big, scabby sores all over. Oozing pustules.”
“You forget that I’m a doctor,” Whitney said with a low chuckle, playing along. She grabbed his belt loop and pulled their bodies closer together. “Parasites get me really hot.”
“Is that so?” He lifted her shirt roughly over her head. Her bra, a soft, worn, white cotton thing, had to be the least lingerie-like item in her closet. He loved it. He loved the comfortable ordinariness of it, the fact that she wasn’t out to impress him for once. He moved lower, kissing the swell of each breast.
“Tapeworm.” He left the bra in place and fixated on the soft curve of her belly. “Scabies.” Moving lower, his tongue dipped into her belly button. “Lice.” He was down to the band of her skirt now, a man with nowhere left to go. He peeked up and grinned. “Um...botfly?”
Whitney let out a low moan. “This is my kind of dirty talk. Don’t stop.”
“I think you might have to pick up from here,” he said, giving up the fight. He straightened and brought his head close to hers, brushing her lips so softly it could barely be registered as a kiss. “I’m running out of organisms to name.”
“You’re doing fantastic,” she whispered.
Both of them stopped, a cavern of things still to say. It was one thing to turn lovemaking into playtime—that was something Whitney did incredibly well. Joking, laughter, fun. But those kinds of words were easy. It was the not-so-funny ones that seemed to stick on Matt’s tongue.
“I feel too much,” he confessed, his eyes searching hers. Difficult as it was, the conversation had to happen. “I always have. For life, for you, for what it will mean to make love to you the way you deserve—long and slow and giving myself to you one hundred percent.”
Whitney’s eyes flared with surprise. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she hadn’t remembered that part of the deal.
“Don’t ask me to be your boyfriend unless you mean it, Whitney. Don’t ask me because you want to prove a point or because it’s what you think I want to hear. Don’t ask me because you fear my encroaching ex-wife. Ask me because you can’t imagine spending tomorrow without me.”
Her hands wound around his neck, pulling him close. He thought she was going to kiss him, but instead of bringing their lips together, her mouth moved to the side, grazing his earlobe.
Bodies taut with anticipation, so much tension in the air it sealed them into their embrace, she whispered, “I can’t imagine spending tomorrow without you, Matt. Or any of the tomorrows after that.”
His heart roared, the rest of him not too far behind. Taking her firmly by the hand, he pulled her toward the back of the condo. There was no joke on her lips, no laughter in her eyes when they reached her bedroom, messy and unkempt and quite possibly his favorite place on earth.
He laid her gently on the bed and held himself suspended above her.
Matt intended to take his time. Even though Whitney was all urgency, her hands everywhere at once—in his hair, at his shirt buttons, tugging at his fly—he stilled her with a kiss, deep and determined.
“I’ve been looking forward to this for two and a half very long months. You’re going to have to be patient.” He traced a finger down her sternum, past her stomach, not stopping until he reached her waistband. Carefully, he pulled the fabric down over her hips and past her legs, taking the time to kiss her calves, sleek and smooth, on the way back up.
That was when he noticed she wore sweet, white cotton panties to match the bra—yet another pleasant surprise. He hadn’t even known she owned such practical underthings.
He traced his finger over every stitch of the fabric, where it curved over her thighs and dipped between her legs, showing his appreciation as a caress.
“I don’t think I can be patient.” Whitney undulated against the bed, arching her back so that her whole body strained toward him. “You have no idea how much I want you right now.”
He nudged her legs apart with his knee and slipped a hand farther between them. Hot and wet before he even got past the fabric. “I have an inkling,” he said, tugging the panties down.
Matt knew Whitney’s body intimately—much more than he thought possible for a woman he had yet to have actual sex with. She loved it when he thrust his fingers inside her and kissed her deeply at the same time. A long, hard suck at her nipple had her hips jerking from the bed almost as though her body parts were attached by taut, electrified wire. Her favorite was when he gripped her ass and held it firm while he buried his face between her legs.
In return, she knew that a wet fingertip pressed firmly to the head of his erection reduced him to a monosyllabic beast, and that he could only take her hands cupping his balls for about sixty seconds before they grew too sensitive and she needed to move on.
But there was so much still to explore—and he wasn’t the only one looking to stake a claim. Whitney sat up and whisked her bra up with a flick of her fingers, motioning for him to take her place on the bed.
He sat, but only after she reached down and slowly unzipped his jeans, her fingers lingering over the task. He shrugged out of his shirt as she splayed a hand over the flat of his abdomen and ran her fingers through the smattering of hair there.
“I feel like I could write a poem about your abs.” Whitney sighed. “A happy ode to a happy trail.”
He chuckled. “Don’t let me stop you. But odes tend to be really long. You’re better off with a haiku.” He turned her so that she stood facing away from him, his head level with where her back sloped into her glorious rounded bottom. Pressing a series of soft kisses to the curve of her spine, he basked in the feeling of so much softness within his reach. Mine. All mine.
She purred and arched against him. “I’m a doctor. I don’t do haiku.”
“Kiss falling softly.” He pressed a deep, warm kiss to each dimple of her back.
“The world spins until it stops.” He whirled her around so that she faced him.
“And I stop with it.” He stopped.
Whitney sat astride him, her sex brushing against his erection but not taking it in. She lifted his face in her hands and kissed him softly. Her hair blanketed them both, smelling sweet and spicy at the same time. He breathed deep, looking forward to the time when he could wake up next to the splay of that hair on his pillow.
“No one has ever written me a poem before,” she teased.
“Someday, Whitney. I will write you the whole damn ode.”
Gripping her ass in his hands, he finally guided her onto his cock. It had been his intention to take her slowly, to savor the overwhelming rightness of her body wrapped around his, but as she opened her legs to take him in, moaning with each movement bringing them closer together, he found himself powerless to stop. Himself or her. Especially her.
“Please don’t hold back.” She thrust her hips against his, finalizing the fit, proving that the complete fusing of two bodies was a shared effort. “You feel amazing. You are amazing.”
He gripped her ass, lifting her up and bringing her down, feeling the fit of her all over again. Amazing didn’t even begin to cover it.
“I meant to woo you with kisses and sweet nothings,” he said, his voice coming out raspy as he strained to slow down. All the blood pumping through him commanded that he move rougher, faster, harder. And Whitney, rocking against him, her body a perfect blur of sensation, wasn’t helping matters any.
“And I mean for you to lose control.” She ground her hips against him, drawing him deeper, and the last of his resolve fled. “Let it go, Matt. Take what you want and worry about the sweet nothings later.”
“You. I want you.” He captured her mouth in a kiss, pumping against her with an untamed intensity he didn’t know he possessed. And she pushed right back against him, hips and tongue, her teeth clamping down on his lower lip.
As their bodies continued to move as one, Matt realized just how right they’d been to wait for this. He was inside Whitney, yes, but this was so much more than a physical penetration. Whitney’s body was pure, hot silk as it moved over his, and no man could ever tire of her passion—but it was more than that. She’d finally let him in.
Him, an ordinary man with noting special to say or offer. Him, a quiet nobody who could only offer her his heart in return.
He slowed his pace, an agonizing feat of restraint, but it seemed important to kiss her one last time before she came. Without leaving the embracing depth of her body, he brought his lips to hers, a soft promise that was the only thing he had to give. Before he could do more than sweep his tongue gently against hers, she bucked her hips and cried out in release.
The tight compressions of her body around his erection brought his own orgasm to a roaring head, and she collapsed against him just as he was sure he’d never be able to breathe again.
But breath came, as it always did.
So, too, did their heartbeats resume a normal pattern against one another. Still, neither of them moved beyond the physical demands of bodies that intended to continue living. Hopefully for a very long time.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to walk again,” Whitney finally said, lifting herself off and falling to the bed.
“See how much fun it is being my girlfriend?” he asked, falling next to her. His hand trailed a lazy pattern over her stomach before settling, firmly entwined in her own. He rolled his head to the side. “Don’t you wish we’d done this weeks ago?”
“I can’t believe you’re trying to bribe me into loving you with sexual favors.”
Matt jerked back, her words taking him by surprise. He’d long since fallen in love with her—he’d been doing that since the day they first met—but he hardly expected to hear the words come out of her mouth without being forcefully pried.
“Loving me? Is that what you’re doing?”
She smiled and pulled him tight. It wasn’t an answer, but Matt realized that words didn’t mean anything as long as their momentum was moving in the right direction. As she nestled firmly in the crook of his arm, burying her face in his neck, he decided her direction was perfect.
She was moving toward him. And he was waiting to catch her when she finally arrived.