She looked him square in the eye. “Think about it. Think about me.”
A humorless laugh escaped him. “You say that like it’s optional.”
Some inner voice urged her to her feet. She didn’t want to watch him walk away, she couldn’t, not after what he’d said. So she would leave first, even if it hurt to put distance in between them. “See you later, Matt.”
She skirted past what was left of the balloon fight and descended into the nearest subway entrance, knowing instinctively he watched her the entire way.
Chapter Twelve
Matt sat at a red light in his ESU truck, performing the usual East Side patrol he’d been assigned to for the last six months. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel; a dull throb worked its way up the back of his neck. Every sound, every flash of sunlight off his windshield was an irritant. Even his jaw ached, he suspected from grinding his teeth together nonstop last night and this morning. Twenty-four hours without Lucy and he felt like a junkie who’d gone too long without a fix. How he’d already formed an addiction to the girl was beyond him. But he had. An all-consuming one that had stitched her beautiful image permanently on the inside of his eyelids. Caused him to catch her scent in the oddest places.
He couldn’t focus on his job. Every thought led back to her, the way she’d looked yesterday. Full of life. Excitement. The way she’d made him feel it, too, during the brief, shining moment he’d allowed himself to feel. It had seemed too good to be true. He’d been forced to remind himself that he wasn’t that man. The kind of man who made a girl like Lucy smile. He might be able to pull it off for one afternoon, but it couldn’t last.
Tell me. Show me. She couldn’t have known what those words meant when it came to him. They’d barely scratched the surface, even if the memory of his hand connecting with her flesh alone could bring him to his knees. When he allowed himself to fantasize about Lucy, he imagined her bound to his bed, under his command. He imagined her on her knees, wearing nothing but a chaste pair of white panties, waiting for his instructions.
The image caused an uncomfortable swelling between his legs and Matt couldn’t resist granting his cock a tight stroke through his uniform pants. It only made matters worse, his thoughts escalating from Lucy on her knees to Lucy asking for permission to suck him off. His flesh disappearing for the first time past her pink lips.
Like this, Matt?
Teeth gritted in agony, he shook his head. Being an adventurous girl, she might be excited by the promise of a new experience, but was most likely just experimenting. Curious about the unknown. But for how long? What if his nature dimmed her free spirit before she’d had enough? He’d never forgive himself. At this point, he’d stopped warning himself off with the reminder of her family name. She was a Mason. Brent’s little sister. If his best friend had an inkling of the thoughts plaguing him day and night, he’d have him in a pair of cement boots, sinking to the bottom of the Hudson. He’d deserve it, too.
Could she have meant it? Could she…accept me, just like this?
Another flashback projected itself in his mind, identical to the ones he’d been having all morning, whenever they’d managed to form a crack in his thoughts of Lucy. His ex-fiancée’s expression of distaste when he finally revealed his needs. Her panicked look when she realized she’d agreed to marry a man with what she referred to as a “sickness.”
Back then, he hadn’t yet explored his urge to dominate in bed. It had been hiding somewhere in the back of his consciousness for as long as he could remember, but when he’d finally gotten the courage to admit what he needed, he’d been shut down cold. After that, he’d tried so hard to keep it under the surface, until he’d finally gotten the nerve to explore it one night, taking it just a little too far with someone who clearly didn’t understand. He’d seen the emotional damage he could cause. The way she’d recoiled from him like he was a monster. That memory had been seared on his brain, only now it was Lucy’s face, looking appalled, repelled, by what he kept tied up inside. Lucy turning to another man for comfort. A man with normal needs.
Matt pounded the steering wheel so hard it shook.
He wouldn’t recover from that outcome. Not his time. Not with Lucy.
If he walked away now, it would be best for her. He knew that. It would ensure he didn’t continue to disrespect his best friend by going behind his back, too. The fact that he’d let it go on this long was inexcusable. If he walked away now, Lucy would meet someone else. A man without a truckload of baggage and an ugly past. One who had the ability to treat her right. Brent would rib the poor guy constantly, but he’d be at peace with Lucy’s choice in a way he would never be okay with Matt. His friend who’d taken advantage of his trust, pursuing his sister well past the point where he’d found out her identity.
Or he could take one more leap of faith. A shot in the dark that Lucy could allow him to explore his needs while he took unqualified care of hers. He could trust Lucy to know her own mind, giving him the chance to return the favor for the times she’d trusted him. He could…show her. Another surge of anticipation tore through him. To be with Lucy, guilt-free, no limits…
The light turned green. Instead of continuing down Second Avenue as his route dictated, Matt flipped a U-turn back toward the Upper East Side, where he knew Lucy and Brent were having lunch at Quincy’s in half an hour.
…
Lucy sat on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art sipping a Diet Coke through a straw and staring into space. Groups of students on field trips diverged around her, cabs honked, hot dog vendors yelled into their cell phones. The multitude of sounds swept along the warm summer breeze, barely registering. She hadn’t exactly been in the best frame of mind for a job interview but thought it had gone surprisingly well. The young woman who’d interviewed her had been a Syracuse alum and they’d talked for an hour before actually getting down to business. If she was offered the job, she might even have a lunch buddy on day one. Luck seemed to be on her side.
At the very least, the interview had distracted her for an hour, and reminded her of her objective to become employed as soon as possible. Now however, against her admittedly weak will, her thoughts returned to Matt. He hadn’t come to her last night. They’d made no plans to see each other. So why had she lain awake in bed, listening for the door? When it became obvious he wouldn’t come, she’d tossed and turned in the enormous bed, her body feeling hot and achy. Throughout college and grad school, she’d rarely felt the compulsion to touch herself. She’d been exhausted from studying, too focused on other things. Yet last night, she’d found her hand slipping down the front of her panties before she’d made a conscious decision.
Lying facedown, she’d taken off her shirt so her nipples could rasp along the cool sheets. Her thighs had moved restlessly as she’d massaged herself in quick strokes, her moans muffled by the pillow. It had been taking too long—she’d been growing frustrated with the need for relief, her anger projected at Matt for not showing up. That’s what had finally sent her flying. She’d thought of arguing with him, trying to walk away. Him stopping her. Holding her against the wall, demanding that she stop fighting him…before he’d resorted to touching her. Replacing her anger with reluctant pleasure. It hadn’t been long before she submitted, in the fantasy and in reality. Before her climax had brought his name to her lips, over and over.