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He pulled aside her knickers and dove into her folds, his thumb brushing over the hard nub.
Enough thinking. She let sensation take her. With every touch of his tongue on her nipple, every stroke of his fingers between her legs, her body jerked, pleasure sparking then fanning out, following the path of her blood as it chugged through her veins.
“Matt!” Ripples of desire sensitized her skin. “Please!”
“You seem to be doing a lot of begging lately, Angel.” His voice practically purred as his fingers continued their excruciating work. “What would you say if I did...this?”
One finger slid into her slick heat and she gasped. Oh, yes. She waited...waited...
He’d stopped.
What the hell...? She groaned, wriggled around, trying to get him to move. Yet he remained still, his other hand flat on her belly, firmly holding her in place. Her breath raced, blood throbbing as she snapped her head up to meet his glittering gaze.
“Or maybe...” he said, his mouth kinking up into a wicked smile. “This?”
And in one smooth movement he slid down her body, removing her underwear as he went. Then he replaced his fingers with his lips and she nearly bucked off the sofa. White-hot sensation exploded as his tongue began lavishing attention on the most intimate part of her, licking, sucking, loving.
Desire throbbed through every single vein, every muscle in Matthew’s body. AJ surrounded him—her skin, her scent, her soft moans of pleasure. It made him want to rip off his clothes and take her hard and fast on the floor. Yet instead of giving in to that desperate need, he took a jagged breath, gathered the threads of his shredded control and focused on loving her with his mouth.
He nibbled her inner thigh, dragging his chin across the sensitive skin. His fingers dug into her skin as he lifted her hips to him and feasted on her sweetness, running his tongue slowly up, then down, loving the way she tasted, loving that her scent and arousal were in his every breath. And when he felt her trembling slowly increase, felt her thighs tense around him, he knew she was heading to the edge.
He left her there, legs spread with her dress rucked around her waist, one breast exposed, head flung back in a familiar arch of ecstasy while he quickly pulled off his clothes.
It took too long, way too long.
When he was finally naked, he positioned himself between her legs, his hands splayed on her rib cage, feeling her deep panting breath, the ripples of passion across her skin.
“Angel,” he ground out. “Look at me.”
She did, slowly, languorously, and the arousal in her eyes blew him away. With a groan, he plunged deep inside her.
He made love to her that way, his hands gripping her waist, their eyes locked, as he slid deeply in, then slowly out.
His pounding heartbeat echoed in his head, his chest. Damn, it felt so good! Better than anything he’d ever experienced in his life. He groaned again as she tipped her hips, and when she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, he let her pull him down. She kissed him, deeply, passionately, using her tongue to tease, taste, toy. His breath galloped, matching hers, the throb of their hearts pounding in unison as he plunged into her. And gradually, everything built, sweeping closer and closer until he couldn’t stand the mix of agony and ecstasy any longer.
He thrust a hand between them, where their bodies were slick with passion and friction, his fingers seeking her tight bud. When he found it, she shuddered, eyes wide, as he flicked it over and over.
“Matt!” She gasped, her breath coming out in tight little puffs as her legs squeezed his waist. “I think...”
“C’mon, Angel,” he crooned in her ear, his lips against her damp hair. “Come with me.”
When she did, it was the most glorious thing he’d ever seen. It was so intense, so powerful, that his teeth clenched, jaw grinding as waves of pleasure rushed him, tossing him up then quickly dumping him down, down, so deeply down.
Everything screamed, every muscle, every vein, every inch of his skin. Hot. Too hot. I can’t... Then sensation took over and with a wrenching groan he spilled into her hot warmth.
“Angel,” he groaned, her slick heat surrounding him, accepting him, taking all of him.
Glorious.
Eventually, when he slowly began to return back to earth, his other senses kicked in. He took in her racing breath, her musky skin, the aftermath of her orgasm still pulsing around him. He’d done that, brought her to the peak of ecstasy, had made her beg for him, before taking them both over the edge. And man, he felt like leaping up and punching the air like some macho alpha, smug in the knowledge he’d thoroughly pleasured a woman.
Not just a woman. This woman. His arms tightened around her, skin still moist with sweat. Her chin was tilted up, her eyes shut, hands provocatively splayed across her neck, just above her breasts.
He dropped a gentle kiss on one peaking nipple and she started. He grinned as she glanced down to meet his eyes.
“You okay?”
Man, that smile undid him every time: languorous and thoroughly sated, full of warm pleasure. “Oh, yeah.”
He bathed in the satisfied glow and let the silence surround them, a silence punctuated by the faint hum of the engines and the gentle rocking of the boat as it cleaved through the choppy Sydney waters.
“What time is it?” she finally asked, then suppressed a shiver.
He glanced over to the entertainment unit at the glowing DVD clock. “One. Why?”
“Shouldn’t you be getting some rest before your early flight?”
“I can sleep on the plane.” He looped his arms around her waist to gather her close but stilled when he felt her gentle tug of resistance.
Okay. That was odd.
Smothering a frown, he eased back, then slowly, regretfully, slid from her.
Whatever she was thinking, it wasn’t good, given the prolonged silence while he gathered up his clothes.
When he’d dragged on his pants and turned back to her, she’d fixed her clothes and was now sitting demurely on the couch, knees pressed together, staring thoughtfully at her hands. Almost as if by meeting his scrutiny she’d inadvertently divulge something she’d rather keep private. And judging by her expression, she’d rather make a swim for the shore than tell him what she was thinking right now.
Steady on. This isn’t some kind of race. And this was AJ—a woman who heated up his bed, gave herself so completely to their lovemaking, yet managed to keep a part of herself untouched.
The desire to break down her walls had never been as intense as it was right at this moment.
“You know,” she finally said, meeting his eyes. “I never did get that dessert.”
His sudden bark of laughter made her lips curve in response, and the tension leeched out.
“Then we shall have to fix that.”
He offered his hand and she took it without hesitation.
Eleven (#uc6995030-bbe3-5a4d-a36e-670b963e109b)
AJ awoke slowly in her darkened room, checked the time—nine—then rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling. She’d left the curtains open last night and now the gathering storm clouds were obvious. A perfect start to a dingy day.
Matt had been gone for hours and he hadn’t even said goodbye.
At six she’d heard him turn on the shower, then turn it off barely five minutes later. He’d moved around in the kitchen, then she’d finally heard the front door gently close at half past.
He was under no obligation to say anything, even if she was his houseguest. Even so, his absence of manners nettled her.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop with all this emotional stuff,” she said sternly in the cool silence. “This is what we want, right? Matt to remain work-focused and you to concentrate on making a baby.”
A baby. Her hand slipped down to the flat plains of her belly. It was way too soon, of course. She wasn’t even ovulating yet. Still...she gently palmed her stomach, forbidden excitement rising as she glanced down. “Just don’t take too long, okay?” she whispered. “Because I’m really not sure how much of Matt I can handle when he gets all focused and intense.”
She lay there for a few more minutes, bathing in last night, flushing at certain memories and grinning at others. Finally she sighed, tossed off the covers and headed for the shower.
Today was the perfect day to move back into Zac’s apartment. And no doubt Matt would be happy to reclaim his space, too.
* * *
Two hours later she shoved the key in the door to Zac’s apartment and stumbled through. Everything about this twenty-fifth-floor penthouse suite drew her in, from the huge panoramic view of Potts Point, Centrepoint, the Harbour Bridge and Rushcutters Bay to the vibrant sunflower yellow interior walls, sleek blond furniture, colorful cushions and tangerine rug in the center of the polished wooden floor. But it was the massive living room that drew a smile every time.
Zac had framed and strategically hung her paintings along the huge feature wall there. She remembered every gentle, colorful mark of her watercolor pencils, the damp brush strokes that brought the scenes to life—Coogee Beach with its beach towels, umbrellas and crashing azure waves. A Sydney cityscape bathed in an orange and purple sunset. And Circular Quay, complete with busy ferries and peak-hour commuters against a Harbour Bridge backdrop.
“Hello, gorgeous things.” She grinned as she dropped her bags inside the door and kicked it shut. “Miss me?” She cocked her head, her gaze going from one picture to another. “Of course you did. Well, the good news is, I feel like painting. The bad news? No paints.” She dug around in her shoulder bag and plucked out her sketch pad, then a pencil. “Still, better than nothing, right?”
After fixing herself a cup of Earl Grey, she dragged the blanket off the couch arm, wrapped it around her shoulders, then padded to the patio doors. With a whoosh and blast of cold air, she walked out onto the balcony, settled in a comfy chair and began.
* * *
AJ formed a routine of sorts for the next few days —she rose at eight, swam a few laps in the heated rooftop pool and lifted weights for half an hour in the fourth-floor gym. Then she had breakfast, followed by sketching, and lunch from one of the many restaurants that occupied the ground floor. After lunch she went walking, undeterred by the weather’s sudden return to midwinter temperatures. She made her way down William Street, poking around in the funky boutiques and secondhand stores, admiring the baubles and handmade clothing, then crossing over Crown Street and heading toward Hyde Park. Turning right on College Street, she headed east, toward the New South Wales Art Gallery.
She spent all afternoon soaking up the rest of the amazing art and doing a few sketches before heading back, only detouring for her usual Starbucks grande latte and a chicken sub.
On Tuesday night, Matt called.
“So what have you been doing the past few days?” Just hearing that low, cultured voice in her ear was enough to make her body quiver.
“Oh, you know, living the life of luxury. Sketching, walking. I missed the Van Gogh exhibit at the art gallery by a day.”
“Bummer.”
“Yeah. He’s one of my favorites.” She started to sharpen a pencil. “When are you back?”
“I fly in late Wednesday night.”
“Okay.” She added the finishing touches to her drawing—a view of the sunset-strewn Queensland hinterland from the seventy-eighth floor of the Q Tower. “Oh, by the way, I’m at Zac’s apartment.”
A small moment of silence passed, way too long to blame on the time delay.
“Why?” Matthew finally said.
She paused and stared out the window, watching a slow-moving ferry glide along Botany Bay. “Because that was my plan, remember? Besides,” she added lightly, “I make a lousy houseguest, leaving my wet towels on the floor and hogging all the bathroom bench space.”
Another too-long silence. “I wouldn’t know. You never stay long enough for me to notice.”
Her breath came out sharp. “Wow. That was a bit harsh.”
She heard him sigh down the phone. “Sorry. Look, it’s been a long trip and I just want to get home. I’ll send a car to pick you up tomorrow and I’ll meet you at Saint Cat’s for our appointment.”
“Matt—”
“I have to go. See you on Thursday.” And he hung up.
She slowly clicked off her phone, head churning. What on earth was that about? Again he’d brought up their past, which meant it must be bothering him more than he cared to admit.
It’s just not working for me, AJ.
Despite the passage of time, that statement still made her wince. He’d made the decision to break up and there was nothing more to be said. So of course, retreat had been her best course of action. She’d simply nodded, risen on unsteady feet and left.
And he’d let her go.
But she needed to stop analyzing this and focus on her appointment. Emily was the deep thinker of their little family; her endless pros and cons list was something AJ ribbed her about all the time.
Sadness bloomed for one second, making her sigh. God, she missed her sister, missed her overwhelming optimism, her unique outlook on life. Her logical advice.
What would she say about this arrangement?
AJ scowled. Eventually she’d have to tell Emily what was going on. That is, if Zac hadn’t already.
At any rate, she had a two-week reprieve to practice before they returned. With that thought, she picked up her abandoned pencil, turned the page and began a new sketch.
* * *
True to Matt’s word, a car arrived at eight-thirty the next morning and took her across the Harbour Bridge to Saint Catherine’s Hospital, set in the exclusive north shore suburb of Kirribilli.
The hospital still looked shiny and new even though it was almost twenty years old. She’d read about the amazing leaps in medicine and research they’d made there throughout those years, along with all the other achievements: best heart surgery team in Australia, a crack cancer research facility. And of course, the addition of a new wing, opened by the Prime Minister herself—the Alicia Cooper Neurosurgical Unit.
Matt met her at the entrance with a smile, and before AJ could steel herself, her heart did a little skip. Then he removed his sunglasses. “Hi, Angel. How’ve you been?”
“Nervous.” It was the truth. She’d been riddled with worry all the way across town, and a lot of it had to do with Matt. Despite all that inner talk, all that “this is just a deal, nothing personal” stuff, she was genuinely elated to see him again. Giddy almost.
“Don’t be,” he said, laying his hand gently on her elbow as they walked to the bank of elevators. “Dr. Adams is the best. Which reminds me, I have to tell you something before we go in.”
“Yes?”
“It’s going to come up in the consult. I had leukemia when I was seven but I’ve been in remission for close to thirty years. Don’t worry,” he added, misinterpreting her shocked expression. “This strain isn’t hereditary.”
“That’s not what I was thinking.” Holy crap. He had cancer? She paused, searching for something, anything, to say. “Are you okay?”
“Never better.”
“Good.” He’s okay. No reason to panic. Then in the next moment she felt a small stab of hurt—why hadn’t he told her this before? Still, her expression must have given her away because he glanced at her and frowned.
“Don’t look at me that way.”
“What way?”
“It’s not a big deal. I don’t need your pity.”
