Bound to Be His (The Archer Family Book 2) (9 page)

He turned his feelings over, trying to find some way of describing how freeing that moment had been. Luckily, he knew it wouldn't be hard for Shay to understand. After all, she knew abandonment, too. And loneliness. She knew heartbreak where family was concerned.

"It's like..." he started, paused, and then began again. "It's like in that moment something sort of clicked. I could be standing ten feet from this woman and she wouldn't feel a thing, just like I didn't feel a thing. Sure, she gave birth to me, but that doesn't mean there's some special bond between us. There might have been once, but she gave it up. There was no reason I should tie myself up with the string she left behind."

"And that's why you haven't spoken to her?"

"Not in person. We had a brief email correspondence, but when it came to actually looking her in the eyes…I haven't spoken to her because I don't need to. I'm already at peace. So is Andy, I think. And Derrick, in his way. She's the one who feels abandoned now. Maybe one day I'll take mercy on that fact and let her say her piece, but it's not today."

Shay watched him silently. Then, straightening in her seat, she said, "So, what now?"

"Now I guess I thank you."

"Thank me? For what?"

"Listening," he said, and a pang of awkwardness shot through his gut.

"Oh, you don't have to thank me for that," Shay said, and to his surprise, a slight tinge of pink colored her cheeks.

"I do, though. You're a good listener. And it's good, you know. To talk to someone who understands."

Shay nodded, and he started the engine up and then pulled back onto the street.

For a while, they drove on in silence, neither of them acknowledging the strange current between them. Still, it was everywhere, clinging to every breath he took. He was aware of her in a way he never had been before. Like somehow, without realizing it, he'd made things serious and deep.

And for some odd reason, that only made him want her more.

Then, when they were nearly to the house, Shay broke the silence.

"Why me?" she asked quietly. So quietly that he almost didn't hear her over the radio.

"What do you mean?"

"You... you didn't tell Andy or Derrick about your mother. Why would you tell me?"

"I knew you'd understand in a way they wouldn't." The truth slipped out before he'd thought it over. He didn't know why or how, not really. There was just some unshakable knowledge inside him that Shay Meyers knew what it was like to have the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. That she knew what it was like to try and protect the people she loved from a terrible truth.

"Thank you," she said, and with the words, that current between them rushed stronger still, swirling all around him and thickening the air until it was impossible to breathe.

"You're welcome," he said, and when he pulled into the driveway of the house, it was all he could do not to sweep Shay into his arms and carry her inside.

M
att stared out the window
, watching Shay as she sat on the edge of the waves, the ocean wind whipping her hair around her heart-shaped face. From this angle of the window, he could just make out the curve of her lips in the moonlight, the shape of her chin, but there was little else to tell him how she was feeling. What she was thinking.

She spent most of the afternoon after they'd gotten back in her bedroom, on the phone with one magazine or another trying to sort things out for him. All the while, he tried to stay out of his room, tried not to eavesdrop, but then he headed into his bedroom to grab his computer and caught another snatch of her voice on the phone. This time, it had been less professional and measured than the other calls. Instead, she was almost shrill.

"It's been less than a year," she was saying. "You can't be serious."

He paused, glanced at his computer, and then sat down on his bed. He felt guilty, beyond guilty, really, but he had to know what was going on. Wanted to know the things he knew she'd never tell him aloud.

"No, it's not. It's not okay. You're just giving up."

There was a long pause, and then nothing else. With every passing moment, the surge of guilt rose inside him, and when it finally reached a fever pitch, he gripped his computer and headed for the door.

After that, he hadn't seen Shay for the rest of the night.

She hadn't even come out for dinner. Instead, she stayed in her bedroom, doing God only knew what, while Andy went to check on her every couple of hours.

Now it was ten and the moon was high in the sky while the waves crashed out beyond the rocks, and Shay sat on the sand with her legs stretched out in front of her, staring at the stars and doing nothing.

"You can go talk to her, you know." He nearly jumped at the sound of his sister's voice.

"I think she wants to be alone."

"You never know until you ask."

"Didn't you ask?"

"Yes."

"And what did she say?"

"That she wants to be alone. But that doesn't mean she always knows what's best for her. I think she's sick of hearing the same talk from me. You could probably be a nice fresh voice for her."

"I don't know." He stared out the window again, studying the angular curve of her jaw.

"Well, there's only one way to find out." Andy shrugged. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you later."

She trotted off through the kitchen and down the hall, and once he heard her bedroom door close, he started off toward the sliding door.

It was hard to say why he did it. Maybe because she'd been there for him today when she didn't even know it, but he wanted—no, needed—to help. Needed to help her bear some of her burden.

When he was a few feet away from her, he stopped and said, "Hey."

Slowly, she turned and he noticed the little smudges of tears streaking her face. She ran the back of her hand over her cheeks, sniffed, and said, "Hey."

"You want to be alone?" he asked.

"I'm sick of being alone." She patted the sand beside her, and the wind whipped the chiffon of her skirt over her knees and swung her hair in front of her face.

He joined her on the ground and stared out at the ocean for a long moment, letting the crashing of the waves and the saltiness of the wind envelope them, along with the darkness of the sky and the light of the stars. It was a beautiful night, and despite the breeze, the water was calm. He could see why she'd come here to soothe herself. Even in the few seconds he'd been here, a part of him was loosening and relaxing, too.

"She's an idiot, you know?" Shay asked, and Matt didn't have to ask who she meant.

"What happened?"

"She's starting to see the cracks in this relationship she's in. You know, I don't even think I'm mad at her. I think I'm mad at me. No matter how many times we go through this, there's some stupid small sliver of me that hopes and dreams of things really being different this time. Just like she promised. Just like she always said..." She let out a little gasp and stopped herself, shaking her head.

"Why do you need it to work so badly?" he asked gently.

"I..." She pursed her lips, tilted her head to the side, and then said, "You know when you were a kid and you woke up on Christmas morning and you and Andy and Derrick all ran down the stairs together and opened your gifts in front of your dad?"

Matt nodded, and the look in Shay's eyes when she met his nearly broke his heart in two. "I don't know what that feels like. Do you know what it's like to go your whole life and not remember what it's like to feel the stability of a tradition? The safety of a family? One year, one stepfather would make Christmas breakfast, the next we'd go out to eat, the next I'd go to some strange grandparent's house who I was bound to never see again."

The ocean crashed behind her as she shook her head again. "It's silly. It's stupid. But when it's your whole life... I just want to know what it's like to feel stable. To have something you can count on. Andy has that with Logan. Why is it so hard for everyone else? Why does everything have to be so hard?"

"It doesn't have to be." He brushed a strand of hair from her face, and then their eyes met again, sending a wave of pure heat through his body. Slowly, she lifted her hand to meet his and held it to her cheek, nuzzling it slowly.

"Thank you," she murmured, just low enough for him to hear her above the current.

"Any time," he said, and his voice was lower and needier than he would have liked.

This was wrong. Wrong to want her right now when she was baring her soul to him. Still, there was a part of him that wanted to lay her down and hold her, just hold her, so she could feel secure somewhere. So she would know warmth and stability, even if it was only with him.

And the idea of her stability coming from him did nothing to curb his need for her.

"Do you want to go for a swim?" she asked, and he blinked.

Even at this time of night, he knew the water wouldn't be cold, but...

"A swim?"

"I think it could be relaxing." Without warning, she pulled the hem of her shirt over her head and left it in the sand, and the ample swell of her breasts in her light pink bra was too much to tear his gaze from.

"I don't have swim trunks on. I can go get them—"

"Just swim in your boxers. Where's your sense of adventure?"

He swallowed, and she pulled her skirt down to reveal matching tiny pink panties. The second she got wet, her underwear would be completely see through. Hell, even now he could see the straining buds of her nipples through the thin fabric of her bra.

His cock surged hot and hard against his zipper, and he knew if he took his pants off now, she would see the evidence of his need. Then again, he remembered the look on her face when she'd first seen his length. The way she licked her lips before she'd taken him into her mouth just the other day...

He unbuckled his belt and slid his jeans off quickly, and then his shirt, and she stood, dusting the sand from her bottom while she waited for him to finish undressing.

It was like she did it just for him. The display of her perfect bottom in those incredibly tiny panties. He wanted to nibble her cheek, to bend her over and lick her up and down over and over until he fucked her right here on the sand.

The tent of his erection flicked, and he ran into the water ahead of her if only to have a moment of relief from his need.

It was no use, though. As soon as he turned around to see her splashing through the waves toward him, he knew he was a goner. She was just too beautiful, her eyes shining in the moonlight while the pink of her bra dampened until it was transparent.

He glanced from her breasts to her face, and when she smiled at him, he knew—this was what she'd wanted.

And if this was what she wanted?

He was damn sure going to make sure she got it.

F
or a moment
, she didn’t walk toward him. Instead, she stood in the current, watching him as he waded through the water, his boxers dampening with each step. His pecks were unbelievable, speckled with droplets, and she wondered if his body would be warm from the heat, or if the water would have cooled him. What would that water feel like she traced his rippled muscles? What would it taste like as she kissed his neck?

Maybe it was wrong to want him like this. After all, she was vulnerable and needy. Normally, this was when she'd break out the rocky road and her favorite movie. Thinking about that, though, left her feeling hollow and sad.

No, she didn't want that. Didn’t want anything but him.

And for once in her life, she was going to get exactly what she wanted.

"Come with me," she said, and then she swam further out into the water untill she'd reached the mouth of a grotto not far off from a wooded area. When she got to the rocks, she waded in the water, waiting for him to join her, but it didn't take long. Within seconds, he reappeared, his dark blond hair made black by the salty water, and he was walking toward her again, making her breath come in shallow little gasps.

It was like something out of a movie, watching him move toward her with the whole of the island and the beautiful night skyline behind him, and still he was the center of it all, the most beautiful part of the scene. His light green eyes met hers and her lips parted, thinking of the times she'd felt him on top of her. Of all the times the heat of his lips had scorched her.

He'd always been so in command when they'd been together, so forceful. But now? Now she had led him here and she was in charge. If only just for tonight.

"Matt, I--" she started, but then he was there, his arms wrapped around her, and her brain short circuited.

"Before anything happens, I want you to tell me what you want," he said. "I want to hear you say this is what you want."

"I want you. I want this." She nuzzled his neck, but he pulled back again, tucking one finger under her chin to tilt her head toward him.

"I want you, too. All of you." His free hand dipped beneath the water and she felt him brush against her panties, finding her center.

"I want to taste you," he said, lower and hungrier than before. "I want to have you and then in the morning I want to have you over again. As many times as I can. I want you to be my woman."

She blinked, unsure what to say. Unsure what to do about the thrill that shot through her at the words "My woman."

"I want you to say you're my woman." He slipped his hand beneath her bra and tweaked one nipple until it was as hard and aching as the rest of her. As needy.

"I..." she tried, but then he pushed aside her panties and thrust two fingers inside. She gasped, but he never broke eye contact. Never said a word. With his thumb, he rubbed the delicate bundle of nerves that was waiting for him.

"I'm yours," she said at last, but then he pulled away and she was left bereft and hungry.

"That's not what I asked," he said, gripping her hips and driving her back against the rocks. A chill ran through her as her back connected with the cool stone of the grotto, but it was extinguished just as quickly by the feel of his hot, rock hard skin against hers.

“Say it,” he breathed.

“I’m your woman.”

“You’re damn right you are,” he answered, and then his lips crushed against hers before he pulled her panties aside and pushed inside.