Belonging (28 page)

She could be no less than honest with him.
"I'm afraid," she whispered with a tremulous little smile, "but I'm
even more afraid to spend this night alone."

It was enough. It would have to be, Matt
thought giddily, for his control had just run out. His heart
reached out to her...and so did his arms.

They were strong, those arms, but it was a
strength tempered with tenderness as Angie found herself lifted and
borne silently to the bed. Once there, she couldn't look away as
Matt pulled his shirt off and tossed it carelessly across the
chair.

His chest was wide and muscular, forested
with tangled curls that dipped into the waist of his jeans. He
possessed a dark magnificence that both thrilled and frightened
her. A shudder passed through her as the side of the bed sagged
beneath his weight. But whether it was from fear or some other
nameless emotion, she wasn't sure.

In that very special way he had, she realized
he must have sensed something of her tumultuous emotions. She was
silent as he switched off the light and eased down close beside
her. He touched her nowhere. He touched her everywhere—clear to her
soul.

Their eyes cleaved together, and she saw so
many things—tenderness, caring--that for a second she felt totally
overwhelmed.

A slow silver flame burned brighter with each
second that passed. The unmistakable hunger on his face seemed to
warm her, calling forth the woman inside her that had lain dormant
for so long... but no longer.

Her breath spilled forth in a rush, and she
realized she'd been holding it. Anticipation swept through her like
rich sweet wine. "Kiss me," she whispered.

He lowered his head. His gaze moved slowly,
searchingly, over her face, as if to test the validity of her
request. It finally settled on the parted softness of her
mouth.

Dear God, she wondered frantically, will he
never... ?

His forehead rested against hers. "Do you
know," he asked in a tone of utter seriousness, "how long I've
waited for this moment?" He paused and took a deep, full breath.
For the first time she realized exactly how great his restraint had
been.

And she knew, as she had never known anything
before, that being here like this with Matt was right... and
good.

Her hands lifted to tunnel through his hair.
"Do you know—" her voice was a feminine replica of his own "—how
long I've been fighting this moment?" His mouth opened, but when he
would have spoken, she gave a tiny shake of her head. "But I'm not
fighting it

anymore." One hand traced an unsteady path
around his mouth. "I want you, Matt. The same way you want me."

Matt stared down at her for an endless
moment. If he had indeed harbored any intentions of calling a halt
before things went any further, she had just blown that notion
right out of the water.

"Oh, Angie." His voice was strained. It was
all he could manage. "God, I hope you mean that," he told her
fervently when he could finally speak.

It was all Matt could do to stop himself from
loving her as fiercely and urgently as he ached to, but he
reluctantly curbed the impulse. In spite of what Angie had said,
he knew they had reached a critical point in their relationship. He
intended to see that nothing happened to change that.

And so he held back the driving need to
possess her, the searing passion pumping through his veins. "I want
tonight to be perfect for you, perfect as it's never been before."
He brushed the pads of his thumbs over her cheekbones as he cradled
her face between his hands. "As perfect as I know it will be for
me. Because with you it could never be anything less."

Leaning over her, he kissed her as gently, as
thoroughly, as he could, putting all the tenderness he felt for
her into that one sweet caress. Her lips trembled like the wings of
a bird, but when her arms slipped around his neck, freely and
without any urging from him, he knew for certain they were knocking
on heaven's door.

They smiled at each other when he drew back,
a silly, sentimental smile shared only by lovers.

Matt's was the first to fade away. His hand
rose to cover the softer one curled lightly over his shoulder. "I
love it when you touch me," he said quietly.

Wide blue eyes flashed up to his. "Do
you?"

Her response was rather breathless. She was
nervous, he decided. A twinge of remorse cut through him,
overridden by the ache in his body that was by now almost a
physical pain. But no matter what it cost him, suddenly he knew
exactly what he had to do.

"We're going to do this your way," he said,
smiling at her reassuringly. Then, remembering his words earlier
that night, he couldn't resist adding teasingly, "You can touch as
much or as little as you want." Still watching her, he leaned back
against the pillows.

But he wasn't teasing, and they both knew it.
There had been a time when Angie would have thought nothing of
taking the lead during lovemaking. But that had been a long, long
time ago, she reminded herself.

Consequently, the prospect of doing so with
Matt was a daunting one. Daunting, but provocative--and
irresistible.

He had removed his jeans, but he was still
wearing his briefs, and she was suddenly glad. She edged up
slightly so she could look down at him. There was an intimate glow
of invitation in his eyes. Encouraged by that glow, she reached out
and ran her fingers lightly over the curve of his collarbone, down
over keenly honed biceps and back to his chest.

His skin was warm beneath the dense mat of
hair that had always intrigued her. In an investigation that was
both shy and bold, her fingers sought and found a flat brown nipple
surrounded by a wiry nest of hair. In the moonlight she saw his
eyes fill with a sublime pleasure. His expression reflected a
thousand different emotions. She wanted to exclaim and marvel over
each. She heard the ragged breath he drew, felt his chest expand
with it and knew a heady sense of power unlike anything she'd felt
before. She relished it, savored it, thanked him for it.

Matt felt as if every bone in his body had
turned to water. The touch of her hands filled him with a thousand
explosive sensations. Her fingers brushed, fondled, raked, teased
and taunted as her mouth did the same to his lips. When a single
finger pursued a relentless path downward from his throat to his
navel, his heart beat a driving, pounding rhythm.

It skipped a beat when her finger paused for
an unending, breath-stealing moment... then resumed its journey,
tugging at the waistband of his briefs.

All his good intentions disintegrated. He
couldn't help himself as he shifted his weight and crushed her body
beneath his. It was sweet agony as her nipples burned twin peaks of
fire into the hardened wall of his chest. But he forced himself to
hold her, just hold her until the faint tremor in his limbs began
to subside. He stared into her eyes for a long, breathless moment.
Then his head slowly lowered.

Angie sighed as his mouth touched hers, at
first the touch so reverent that she felt tears glaze her eyes. She
felt him smile against her mouth, and for a heart stopping second
she thought he had changed his mind. But soon the light grazing of
his lips against hers became more urgent. His kiss deepened, and
her lips parted in response. Her tongue flirted with the daring
invader that breached the barrier of her teeth, joining in an
intricate mating that left both of them gasping.

"God, Angie." The words came out hoarsely,
wrenched from deep inside of him. "I want you so much... so much."
That need was magnified a hundredfold in the rawness of his
voice.

She could feel the tautness in the arms that
held her, in the velvet-and-steel fullness riding against her
belly. At the thought the apex of her womanhood tingled with a
heavy warmth.

Touching. Kissing. Caressing. Soon it
wouldn't be enough, for either of them. She didn't care.

She drew away just enough to gaze up at him
with shining eyes. "Make love to me, Matt." She caressed his
roughened jaw with fingers that weren't entirely steady. "Make love
to me."

This time there would be no stopping, and
they both knew it. As if they had all the time in the world, Matt
began to kiss her. Slowly. Leisurely. At every possible angle, in
every possible way he had ever dreamed of.

When he did finally raise his head, it was to
unhurriedly tug at the sleeves of her gown. She mindlessly obeyed
his whispered instructions, and her eyes drifted shut as Matt slid
the material down to her waist.

Her skin burned wherever he touched—the
outward flare of her hips, the slender length of her thighs. And
when her body lay bared to him, her eyes flickered open, anxiously
awaiting his verdict.

He wasted no time in giving it. "You're
beautiful," he breathed, extending a finger toward her breasts.

When he merely traced the deep cleft between
their burgeoning fullness, Angie wanted to moan her frustration.
The feeling quickly transformed into a delicious sense of
anticipation as he settled his hands on her waist and slowly
lowered his head.

His breath caressed her first. She felt its
moist warmth like the first faint whispery wings of night. Her
senses heightened by the deep, emotional pull between them, a
ripple of pure sensation curled through her when his mouth finally
closed over the aching peak. It built to a feverish pitch as he
bathed the quivering bud of her nipple with moist heat. The same
careful attention was applied to her other breast, and her world
exploded into a million shattering sensations as he began a
rhythmic tugging.

Never in her life had she felt more
beautiful, more desirable, more alive. She wanted his mouth on
hers, his tongue making wildly delicious magic with her own. She
wanted his hands on her breasts, to feel him stroke the secret fire
hidden deep inside her. She wanted his weight pressing into her, to
feel him deep inside her to fill the empty void that cried out for
him.

"Please, Matt," she begged. "Come to me. Come
to me now."

Firm lips swallowed her husky entreaty. With
a moan of sheer pleasure, Matt settled her bare breasts into the
dark cloud of hair on his chest. Strong hands slipped under her
buttocks, lifted, aligned his hips between the intimate cradle of
hers.

The velvet strength of him sank slowly into
moist, flowering petals of femininity. Matt closed his eyes at the
incredible sensations bombarding him as her satin warmth surrounded
him, made him whole. She was his... his at last.

Mindlessly he tangled his fingers in her
hair. His eyes flicked open, and he stared into passion-drenched
eyes. His voice stole softly through the silence. "I love you,
Angie... I love you."

Then they were together, together with
nothing between them. Hands touched and caressed; lips blended and
merged. Her pleasure was his and his was hers as their hips
indulged in a dance as old as time itself.

Higher they climbed, ever higher, to a
blissful place where hearts ran wild and free.

And then they were no longer two, but one.
One body. One soul... One heart.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Some time later Matt awoke. An oppressive
heaviness hung in the air. Through the sheer ruffled curtain he
saw that the night was starless. The heavens loomed dark and
menacing. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the storm
clouds with an eerie silver glow for the space of a heartbeat.

He had expected to awake with Angie still
slumbering in his arms, but he was alone. A cold sense of
foreboding swept over him, and slipping on his pants, he went in
search of her.

He found her in the dining room. She was
sitting on the window seat, clutching a small patchwork pillow to
her breast and staring out into the stark blackness of the night.
She had slipped on a thin robe, and just imagining the honey-tinted
sheen of her skin sent an electrifying rush of awareness through
him.

But his intuition was right after all.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

She looked so lonely. There was a remoteness
in the smooth lines of her profile that had him twisted in knots.
He wanted to go to her, to take her in his arms and soothe her,
comfort her as he had done once before that night. A flash of
lightning lit up the room as bright as day, and he took a single
step forward. She must have sensed his eyes upon her because she
turned then.

The haunting bleakness in her eyes stopped
him cold. He leaned a hand against the doorframe. "Can't sleep?" he
asked quietly.

She shook her head and sat up straighter. He
sensed she was gathering her courage.

Outside the wind began to howl. A pelting
rhythmic rain began to fall against the windowpanes. In the corner
a clock ticktocked.

The silence spun out between them. Matt
waited... and waited. A sickening feeling of dread gathered in the
pit of his stomach.

Finally Angie looked across at him. With the
enveloping cloak of darkness, he had no way of knowing she'd spent
the last hour fighting back tears—--and not always succeeding. But
there was nothing in her voice, no hint of emotion whatsoever as
she said, "I'd like you to leave in the morning, Matt."

Matt couldn't quite control the fiery mist of
anger that burned before his eyes. After all they had shared this
night, she might have been a stranger. Her words were like a slap
in the face.

His jaw clenched. "Why?" he demanded.

"Everything's been fine this weekend," she
murmured. "The note—must have been a prank." She prayed he
wouldn't see how difficult this was for her. "I don't see the
necessity of having you stay any longer, so you needn't bother
coming home with me after work tonight."

Matt's expression was stony. It irritated him
that she pretended to misunderstand his question. His eyes never
left her slender silhouette as he reached out to switch on the
light. "It's not like you to beat around the bush, Angie. Why don't
you just say what you mean? This is goodbye, isn't it?" His lips
twisted bitterly. "In other words, it's been nice but don't come
back."