He’s trapped me. Not behind bars, but with nudity.
“You’re judging me again,” he warns.
“Because you’re effectively holding me here until I can get my dress back.”
His placid face hardens as he hunches over, elbows back on knees. “I have a room full of clothes if you’re in a hurry to run. Take a sweatshirt. Take my whole fucking wardrobe. I’ll have your clothes sent to your hotel first thing in the morning.” He shoves to his feet. “Forgive me for thinking I was doing you a favor.”
He stalks to the door, shoving the silk robe into my hand as he passes, then escapes into the hall.
Damn it.
I’m not used to this.
I have no familiarity with someone doing things for me out of kindness instead of strategy. The compliments are all new. The affection foreign.
My walls may be down where attraction is concerned, but I guess snap judgment is still my default defense mechanism.
I return the towel to the bathroom while feeling like a complete bitch, then shove my arms into the billowing robe, tying the sash around my waist.
I’m pushing away the best thing that’s happened to me since Stella’s birth and I don’t know how to stop.
Vulnerability isn’t an enjoyable sensation. It’s caustic and cruel, its sharp teeth nipping at my heels. But denying the exposure means giving up on this connection. This passion. Even if it’s temporary.
I pad back along the hall, finding him in the kitchen, one hand on the counter, the other on his scotch glass.
“Want me to arrange a driver?” He peers at me over the rim of his drink before taking a gulp. “You wouldn’t have to wait long.”
Do I go or stay?
He takes another mouthful, leaving the glass dry, then drops it down to the counter with a heavy thud. “You’re not my fucking hostage,” he mutters. “I’m not keeping you here.”
“I know.”
He frowns. “Do you?”
“Yes.” I wince. “And I’m sorry. You caught me off guard.”
He remains quiet as he watches me, unappeased.
“I felt stupid when you said I didn’t travel all this way just to sleep with you, because the truth is I kinda did.” My wince deepens. “But it’s even more pathetic than that.”
“What do you mean?” His expression softens.
My throat tightens with the resurfacing rage I harbor toward my brother. “I had a fight with my family and needed to get away. It’s hard to admit I had nowhere else to go.”
The confession hurts. Soul deep.
There’s nobody else in my life. All I have is Stella, my innocent daughter, who I’ll never burden with my troubles.
Matthew releases a long breath and wipes a rough hand down his face. He’s tired of me already. Bored of my bullshit within an hour.
He doesn’t say anything as he walks toward me, probably preparing to reintroduce me to the front door. I bite my lip as he approaches, each step leaving me more vulnerable in an already isolated world, until he stops before me.
His gaze rakes my face, a subtle frown pinching his brows as he conducts the appraisal. “Are you okay?”
I release a tight breath.
He’s concerned about me? After I accused him of having bad intentions, he’s still acting protective?
I blink through the sharp burn in my eyes and step back, needing to distance myself from the weakening effects of his patience and concern.
“Hey.” He reaches out, grasping my fingers to drag me into his chest. “Tell me you’re okay.”
I hold in a whimper, the fragile sound built from overwhelming gratitude. I wither against him, lowering my head to his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his waist.
In his embrace, I’m good.
I’m sheltered.
I’m whole.
“I don’t need you, Matthew,” I whisper against his skin. “I’m not someone who can’t take care of herself. I just…” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m not used to having someone care for me. Not like this.”
“I understand.” He kisses the top of my head. “I don’t have anyone either.”
I lean back, needing to see the truth in his expression. “What about your family?”
“I have a mentor. But apart from him, Bishop is all I have. All I trust.”
He has it worse than I do, and now that I know of his isolation, I can see it. Loneliness is hidden beneath the confidence in his eyes.
“I have a feeling we’re similar in a lot of ways,” he continues. “Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to you.”
“And here I was thinking I’d captivated you with my body,” I tease.
“That, too.” He doesn’t laugh—there’s only the slightest upward curve to his mouth as he gives me a subdued kiss. When he pulls away, the humor is gone. “I want you to trust me.”
“I’m trying.”
“It doesn’t come easily for me either.” He kisses my nose. My forehead. The sweetest brushes of gentle lips. “We have to give it time.”
I sigh, nestling back into his shoulder. “It sounds like your life is as messed up as mine.”
“It was. But not anymore. I left it behind. You can, too.”
I close my eyes, picturing this dream world of his. One without notoriety etched into my family name. A place where tables aren’t turned on the daily and I don’t have to constantly watch my back. A utopia where Stella would always be safe.
“Want to tell me about the fight?” he asks into my hair.
“It was about you.”
The muscles of his chest stiffen. “You told your family about me?”
“No. But they guessed I’d met someone. Apparently, my face has a tell when I’ve received my first non-self-administered orgasm in years.”
He snickers, deep and sinful in my ear. “If I’d known it’d been that long—”
“Nope.” My face heats as I snap a finger to his lips, silencing him. “We are not talking about my abstinence.”
His grin presses into my fingertip, the glimpse of a dimple teasing me from his left cheek. “But understanding why you’re confident in one moment and shy in the next is fucking cute.”
“Stop it.” My eyes flare. “There’s nothing cute about being daunted by someone else’s prowess.”
He’s right though.
So fucking right.
I guess I grew up being self-assured by my family’s power. Of how to conquer and rule. But when it came to sexuality, my teachings came from a man who would’ve preferred never to have met me.
“You’re daunted by me?” he teases.
I shove at his chest. “You know I am.”
He sobers, the flirtatious vibe seeping away as silence builds.
“I don’t want you to be daunted by me, amore mio.” He grabs my hand, raising my knuckles to his lips. “You told me before that I made you feel empowered. That I gave you confidence.”
“You do that, too.” I shake my head. “I wish I could explain…”
I can’t find the words. No, I can’t find the honesty. The truth about how Benji made me question my desirability isn’t something I’m willing to discuss.