Matt closed the door behind her. “Does he know?”
She shook her head. “He thinks I’m cheating on him.”
“I’m sorry, Alex.”
She shrugged. “It’s just the excuse. Nothing has been right between us since Jim told me to look the other way. I see him differently than I used to. He’s a good cop, really—he just doesn’t want to make waves in the department.”
“There are too many cops like that. Even good cops don’t want to rock the boat.”
Matt seemed to notice he was only in boxers. “Why don’t you sit down? I’m going to grab some clothes.”
Matt went down the hall and Alex looked around his living room. It was small and functional. She’d been here a few times; this was where she’d first met FBI Agent Dean Hooper when Matt brought them together to discuss Tommy Cordell and his potential connection to Russian organized crime. Hooper had given her a crash course on how the Russian mob worked and the major crimes they were involved in, and why it was so hard to make a case. They’d sat here, in this room, for hours.
She walked through the dining room which Matt used more as an office. Files and papers were spread on the square table. She didn’t want to pry, so went through to the kitchen. It was small, but completely updated.
There was a cozy family room off the kitchen, with a breakfast nook, fireplace, and large screen television. It was clear that Matt preferred this room to the rest of the house, as it was a bit more cluttered and lived in. Built in bookshelves were crammed with equal parts history tomes and crime fiction which leaned heavily toward historical mysteries. Pictures of his family—mostly his sister and half-sister—decorated the few empty spaces. She didn’t know much about his relationship with his parents, but his father had died a few years back, and he’d never talked about his mother. There were no pictures of his parents.
She didn’t really know Matt Elliott, she realized, yet she felt like she did. Why was that? Why was she so drawn to him when she only knew about his career and not his personal life?
He walked into the kitchen and she turned guiltily. “I guess I’m being nosy,” she said. He’d put on sweat pants and a faded blue U.S. Navy T-shirt. She might have preferred him half-naked.
Or completely naked.
What the hell was she thinking? She hadn’t come here for sex.
He smiled, sending the thought of sex back to the forefront of her brain.
“Sit down. Relax.” He uncorked a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. He walked over to where she’d sat on the couch. “Here.”
“I shouldn’t have come here.” But she took the wine and sipped.
“Of course you should have. We’re friends, Alex.”
“Friends? Is that it?”
She stared at him, surprised and pleased as his green eyes darkened. Maybe she hadn’t consciously come here to sleep with Matt, but her physical reaction to him told her that maybe Jim hadn’t been that wrong about her having an affair. It had all been in her head. It wasn’t fair to Jim, and it wasn’t fair to Matt, but she’d realized over the last six months that she wanted a man—like Matt Elliott—who believed that the system worked. Who wanted the system to work. Who didn’t turn his back on crime or corruption just because it was the easier thing to do. His values had attracted her just as much as his good looks. Maybe more so.
“Alex,” he said, his voice rough.
She put the wine glass down and kissed him.
He grabbed her arms and started to push her away, but before she broke off the kiss, suddenly he was kissing her back, pulling her on top of him as he leaned back into the deep sofa. Her hands couldn’t stop moving. She couldn’t stop touching him. She’d wanted Matt Elliott for months, and the guilt of that desire had fueled her anger toward Jim. It certainly hadn’t been fair to Jim. Wasn’t it better to know now that she didn’t love Jim, that she couldn’t love Jim? That there was someone who’d slipped into her heart when she wasn’t looking. Someone she’d been craving for weeks. Months. Maybe longer.
“Matt,” she whispered between kisses. “I’ve been thinking about you. Too much.”
“Alex—”
“Shh.” She didn’t want him to stop her. She needed this. Keeping secrets from everyone she worked with, even her friends; investigating Tommy, reporting weekly to the FBI, letting Tommy get away with a bunch of small shit in order to get him to trust her enough with the big things ... it was eating her up inside. But this ... Matt ... was the one sane thing in her life. He understood. He knew what she was doing and why. He supported her. He believed in her. She needed that faith, maybe because she was beginning to doubt herself.
All she wanted, needed, was a little affection. She wasn’t asking for a ring, just a night.