Suzanne Brockmann – Irresistible Attraction: Scenes of Passion / Midnight Seduction / Beyond Control (страница 16)

She’d moved all the way to the other side of the hot tub, but as he advanced on her, she actually came toward him.

“Matt, kiss me.”

That he could do.

He leaned forward, moving slowly now, until his mouth met hers in the sweetest of caresses. Her lips were soft and warm, and oh, Lord, so willing.

Matt carefully kept himself from touching her, aware once again that they were both naked, knowing that if he felt the softness of her body against his, he’d be lost.

And oh, although it was careful and gentle, it was the kiss he’d been waiting for, for a lifetime.

Maggie was kissing him. She wasn’t pretending to be someone else who was kissing the person he was pretending to be.

It took his breath away.

It was hard as hell to pull back, to stop kissing her, and he had to turn away to keep her from seeing the tears that had jumped into his eyes.

He forced a smile.

Maggie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Matt was treating her the way everyone always treated her—as if she might break. And if she were going to feel embarrassed about this in the morning—and she knew she was—then, damn it, she wanted the kind of kiss Matt had been legendary for in high school, the kind of kiss that would knock her socks off.

Provided she had socks on.

“I think we should try that again,” she said.

“I think I need to get out of this tub,” he countered.

“I think there’s suddenly some doubt as to who would bore whom in bed,” she told him, amazed at the words coming out of her mouth.

“Oh really?” he said. There was an odd light in his eyes as he looked at her. He didn’t move, he just sat there, very, very still.

She shifted slightly, so that the water barely covered her breasts. Matt’s gaze flickered down and then back to her face.

“I’m not going to take advantage of you,” he said, but he still didn’t move.

“It’s not taking advantage if it’s what I want,” she countered. She stood up, water sheeting off her.

Matt stood, too, and scrambled out of the tub, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. “You’re too angry and drunk to know what you want.”

“I am not!”

“Please, just—”

“For the first time in ages, I’m actually making my own decisions—”

“This is no decision. It’s a knee-jerk reaction.” He raised his voice to interrupt her. “If we make love tonight, everything changes between us. Maybe it would be great. Maybe you’d wake up in the morning and still want me. Maybe we’d be lovers until the day I die. But maybe not.”

He handed her a towel. “Maybe it wouldn’t be anything more than a one-night stand,” he continued, the lateness of the hour suddenly evident in his voice. “I really don’t mind if you use me, Mags, but I’m not going to let you use me up. I value your friendship too much to throw it away for just one night.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He headed for the door. “Dry off. I’ll go find you some clothes. Then we can duke it out over whether or not I’m going to drive you to the motel.”

* * *

Matt came back into the bathroom with his smallest pair of shorts, a T-shirt and a sweatshirt.

Maggie was gone.

He’d walked right past her—she was curled up in the middle of the bed. It wasn’t his bed, but she probably didn’t know that.

He sighed, moving closer, but then realized she was fast asleep.

She clutched the sheet to her chest, and her dark hair fanned out against the white pillow. He stood looking down at her, at her long, dark eyelashes that lay against her fair skin, at the smattering of freckles that ran across her cheeks and nose. She looked like the teenage girl he’d first met so many years ago.

As a seventeen-year-old boy, he wouldn’t have been able to resist shedding his own clothes and climbing into that big bed with her.

As a thirty-year-old man, he swore softly, then picked up the towel she’d dropped on the floor. He carried it into the bathroom and hung it up to dry, tossing the clothes he’d brought with him on the back of a chair. He covered the tub and turned off the light.

Okay. Leave. Walk away. Go upstairs.

Instead, he came back to look at her in the light from the hallway.

Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed. He’d leave in a minute.

God, he was a fool. He could have had her, made love to her. He could have been lying next to her right now, basking in the afterglow.

But tomorrow was coming with a vengeance. And tomorrow they both would’ve had to live with the consequences.

Maybe he could make her fall in love with him. Maybe. And wouldn’t that be nice. Then she’d be in love with someone who could make her no promises. Maggie wanted a family—babies and a husband who was going to stick around. Matt could give her no guarantees.

But he knew what he wanted. For the first time in years, he was certain. He wanted her. After all this time, he still wanted her.

He remembered the day more than a decade ago that he’d realized he was in love with Maggie Stanton. He’d been shocked, horrified, disbelieving. The great Matt Stone, slayer of hearts, did not fall in love. Then, as time passed and he realized that he had, indeed, succumbed, he’d had to face the fact that she didn’t see him as anything more than a friend.

When he’d left for college, he’d partied hard, sure that now that he was away, he’d forget about Maggie. It was only a high school crush, right?

He’d dated a long line of long-legged blondes, he’d drunk hard and had been horribly unhappy.

Somewhere down the line, he’d stopped missing her.

At least he thought he had.

Matt reached out to touch her. Her skin was so smooth, so soft. He wanted to kiss her, taste her, inhale her….

He’d leave in a minute. Really.

But he swung his legs up onto the bed, leaning back, resting his head on his hand, propped up by his elbow. He leaned forward to kiss her shoulder, and she smiled in her sleep and snuggled against him.

He knew then that he wasn’t going anywhere, and he put his arms around her.

Tomorrow Maggie would wake up and find him there. And if she still wanted him in the light of morning, there’d be no holding him back, regardless of the consequences.

Seven

Maggie awoke to the sound of the window shade rubbing against the sill in the gentle ocean breeze.

The room was dim, but bright sunlight seeped in around the edges of the shade. She could tell from the brightness that it was late morning, possibly even past noon.

She stretched and her leg bumped something very solid and memories from the night before came roaring back to her.

It was indeed Matt, lying beside her, fast asleep. His long hair was tangled around his face. He was on his side, one arm tucked under his head, his legs kicked free from the sheet. He was wearing a pair of shorts—what a relief. Maggie was hyperaware of her own lack of clothing.

She’d tried to seduce him last night, but he’d refused.

Her face heated. She’d thrown herself at him, but he’d made it clear he didn’t want to be anything more than friends.

So what was he doing in bed with her?

The phone rang, suddenly, shrilly, and Matt stirred. His eyes opened and focused on her for one brief moment before he turned and picked it up from the bedside table. “Hello?” His voice was husky from sleep. He sat up, pushing his hair out of his face, swearing softly. He listened for a moment longer, than handed the phone to Maggie. “It’s your brother.”

“Stevie?” she said, clutching the sheet to her. Her own voice was rusty sounding, and God, her head was throbbing.

“Yo, Mags,” he said, wonder in his voice. “Are you guys still in bed?”