Lovers' Dance (20 page)

“Fuck!” she exclaimed, glaring down at her feet.

Matt couldn’t recall if he’d heard her swear before, then remembered their argument in the pub so long ago. It was startling to hear a strongly uttered expletive from his sweet Madi.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Did you hurt yourself?”             

“I don’t think so,” she muttered, while leaning against him. He watched anxiously as she pulled up her dress a few inches, lifted up the offending foot and wriggled it side to side. “Nope, not broken. These heels were not made for cobblestones. Can I have a piggyback?”

“A what?” Matt made sure the disbelief he felt was clear to see on his face.

“A piggyback,” she repeated, pouting her luscious lips at him. “Please?”

“Madison—”

“It’s not too far to the water taxis, and I may have hurt my ankle,” she wheedled. Matt wasn’t buying it for a second, but she did look cute with that little pout. He injected a high level of sternness into his voice. “I’m a well-respected businessman—”

“Please, please, please, Matt.”

She fluttered her thick eyelashes at him and Matt gave in with a wry grin. “All right poppet, one piggyback and we’re never to mention this undignified occurrence to anyone. Hop on.”

He watched as she hitched her dress up, then turned so she could climb on to his back. This was completely unacceptable behaviour, but her infectious laughter made him feel like a young man.

“You’re the best knight ever,” she whispered into his ear, before planting a big kiss on his cheek.

“Mmm hmm, and you weigh a tonne.” His teasing comment was far from the truth, and she stuck a wet tongue into his ear in retribution. “Do that again, poppet, and I’ll dump you on the ground.”

“Giddy-up.” She clutched his shoulders, making sure her legs were wrapped firmly around him, and he chuckled despite their highly inappropriate conduct. Matt began walking in the direction of the Canal Grande. They could board a water taxi and be back at his place within half an hour. He quickened his pace while Madi drew him into a conversation over the history of the buildings they walked past. Matt, having holidayed frequently here, was a font of knowledge and he felt a deep-seated pleasure in the way she listened avidly to him describe Venice culture. By the time they boarded the water taxi, Matt couldn’t wait to get back to the house. Her lovely brown eyes flirted with him as she deliberately ran her fingers up and down his arm. Gone was the inexperienced young woman he’d taken into his bed a few months ago. In her place stood a sensuous goddess who turned his body into a consuming inferno with a mere touch. When they arrived, Antonio was waiting, ready to execute requests from his employer. Matt dismissed him for the rest of the night. He had everything he could possibly need, and she was standing by the balcony windows in his bedroom, wistfully peering at the night. He glided over, resting a hand on the small of her back.

“What’s on your mind?” he murmured softly.

“I’m—” she paused, twisting her head so she could see his face.

“What, poppet?” Was there a touch of sadness in her eyes?

“Happy,” she answered, but the melancholy smile curling her lips contradicted her words.

“So am I,” Matt said with quiet intensity, as his fingers latched over the zip and he slowly drew it down. She didn’t move as the dress slid to the floor, revealing her underwear-clad body to his hungry gaze. Matt rubbed his hand over her back, venturing lower until he encountered the top of her sexy lace knickers. He let out a rough moan of desire and she turned around, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck as she buried her face in his chest.

“Let’s go to bed,” he ordered, close to the edge of tumultuous passion and wanting to sate himself in the secrets of her body. Did she have any idea how much he yearned for her? Did she truly understand the way she affected him? Had changed him?

Matt took them over to the bed and lost himself in the pleasure of her touch, her scent, her soft moans of lust. He lost himself completely and, when they laid wrapped around each other exhausted from their climax, he vowed to never let her go. Her breathing evened out and soon enough she started snoring gently.

“I love you, poppet,” he whispered as he kissed her cheek.

“Me, too.” she murmured back.

Matt stilled, frozen in shock, then he carefully leaned away to observe her sleeping face. She was sleeping. Bloody hell. Had his words registered in her sleep-induced state? He listened to her weird snoring for a few minutes before settling back down.

‘Me, too.’ She had said, ‘Me, too.’ Matt ignored the obvious fact her response wasn’t made with an alert mind and drifted off to slumber. Tomorrow. He would sit her down and they would have a serious talk. All he had to do was convince her this connection between them deserved more than being hidden in the shadows. Whoever didn’t like it could go fuck themselves.

EIGHT

IT WAS A RAINY Thursday night when we returned to London—a day earlier than planned—and Matt had woken me up. My hair was a wild mess, and I felt like the wrong end of a dog. On the bright side, I was no longer crouched over a toilet bowl begging the Lord to make the violent puking stop. We’d had so much fun until Wednesday. Matt had promised me a gondola ride, so we went into the city and had something to eat. I had chosen supposedly fresh fish—it was to be a mistake. Within an hour of digesting my lunch, I was in the grips of food poisoning. It was a bad sight. Matt had been great although, getting me back to his place and holding my hair back as the war in my stomach waged and the pristine porcelain bowl in the bathroom downstairs had suffered. Oh, man, it suffered. Rosa had fussed over me, berating me for eating out instead of at the house, or so Matt had translated. Antonio had wanted to call an ambulance, but I had a thing about hospitals, so I said no. Franco had paced a hole in the marble floor, muttering in his native language. Matt had finally had enough of them because he carried me upstairs to his bedroom, locked the door as I scrambled to the ensuite, and resumed his kneeling next to me as I hurled.

Venice had ended on a sour note.

“Have some water, Madi.” Matt was holding a glass out to me as I rubbed a hand over my face. “You need to keep hydrated.”

I took the glass with a feeble smile of thanks and sipped it. My stomach gurgled loudly.

“Oh God, Matt, I don’t think I could survive being sick again.”

He sent me a chiding grin. “You won’t be, poppet. It’s safe to assume there is absolutely nothing left in your stomach at this point. Our bags have been loaded in the car. Do you think you can make it off the jet on your own or do I have to carry you?”

He was teasing me.
Unbelievable
. I squinted at him. “Making fun of a sick person is cruel.”

“It was a mild case of food poisoning Madi, not the Ebola virus.”

My squint turned into a full-blown glower and he motioned to the glass in my hand. I begrudgingly took another sip.

“I can walk.” The barely drunk glass of water went on the table and I uncurled myself from the seat. With a final look around the spacious aircraft—who knew the next time I would travel in style—I took Matt’s outstretched hand and we disembarked. His ostentatious Rolls Royce was parked yards away.

“How come your driver isn’t here?” I asked as he opened the door for me.

“I had given him the week off and we’re back earlier than expected. It would be churlish of me to demand he pick us up.”

“What’s the real reason?” I asked as soon as he closed his door. His bullshit answer was just that, bullshit. People did what Matt wanted, when he wanted. No questions asked.

Matt look affronted for a second, then his face split into a grin. “I wanted to take you home myself and finish our holiday. We’re both free tomorrow.”

“I’m too sick, Matt.”

“You’re much better now, and I’ll take care of you all day tomorrow.”

I smiled at the amusing image of Matt pottering around my terrace at my full disposal.  Nice.

Matt was tapping a finger against the steering wheel, giving me a pointed look.

“What?”

“Seatbelt,” he scolded. “How can you always forget to buckle up upon entering a car, poppet? You drive, you should know better. I’ve noticed on more than one occasion you driving up at your home without it on.”

I mumbled under my breath about certain people being bossy and Matt sighed in exasperation.

“It’s road safety and the law.” He continued to berate me, and I blurted out my secret to shut him up.

“It’s my game of chicken.”

“Pardon? Your what?” He was staring at me as if I was from the loony house.  “Explain yourself, young lady.”

Young lady?
I was twenty-six.

“Okay, old dude.” That earned me a clenching of his jaw. “You know I told you my parents were killed in a car crash.”

He nodded and I continued. “I guess it’s my way of testing death. It’s stupid I know, but I should have died in that car crash too and in some perverse way I—I don’t know—maybe a part of me wishes I had. When it happened…all I remember is that seatbelt over me. I couldn’t—it wouldn’t release and I wanted to get to them—I kept telling them to wake up, but they didn’t and I couldn’t—it’s my game of chicken.”

There was something lodged in my throat. It tasted like repressed emotions to me. I took a ragged breath and twisted in the seat to get the belt. Matt leaned over, startling me by his sudden movement, and grabbed the belt. I sat still as he pulled it across my body and securely fastened it. Then he kissed me hard.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, poppet but, if I ever catch you not wearing your seatbelt, I’ll make you regret it.” His voice was blunt. I nodded in the wake of his threat. He kissed me, much gentler this time around.

“I’ve never told anyone that,” I muttered after our kiss, embarrassed and feeling vulnerable. Matt would think I was a freak with a death wish. A crazy-ass black woman.

“I’m glad you confided in me,” Matt said as he buckled up. “But I meant what I said, Madi. Don’t do that again.”

The atmosphere in the car was tense and, in an effort to lighten it, I said with forced humour, “It’s not like you’ll know anyway, not unless you install a camera in my car and spy on me every time I get behind the wheel.”

Matt regarded me coolly, his left eyebrow arched with a touch of defiance. “I will if it’s necessary, and I truly hope it isn’t, poppet.”

My mouth fell open. Matt started the car, reaching over with his left hand to caress my knee for a moment, then grabbed the gear stick and drove off. We didn’t speak much on the way to Greenwich. It was with a heavy heart I picked up on Matt’s pensiveness. Feelings of doubt and insecurity swamped me. This was not good. I had fallen for him. Pathetic, I know, but it seemed like I couldn’t help myself. It had gotten to the point where I dreamt he’d told me he loved me.
How ridiculous was that?
I consoled myself with the fact it was understandable and inevitable. He was my first. Everyone had deep feelings for their first. The problem with that was Matt’s view on our ‘relationship’. It didn’t take a genius to know exactly what I was to him. Not a token black fuck—we’d spent enough time with each other for my original fears concerning that issue to be laid to rest. My position was more akin to being his piece of ass on tap. Maybe his latest fetish. Shit. There were loads of white men who preferred black women simply to satisfy their messed up desire to own a black pussy. I shook my head. Matt wasn’t that sort of man. At least, he didn’t give the impression of being that sort of man. We hadn’t discussed the race situation much. Neither the money issue. It made me uncomfortable, and he seemed to want to avoid dwelling on it also. We were almost near my street and, with those unhappy thoughts trickling through my mind, I wanted to go to sleep and not think. 

“Matt?”

“Hmm?” He glanced at me, turning down the road and driving up to my house.

“Do you mind if I take a rain check on tonight? I’m exhausted and feel a bit under the weather.”

He didn’t reply until he parked, then he swivelled in his seat and gave me the full weight of his grey eyes. “Is it because I told you off about the seatbelt? I’m concerned about your safety, Madi, but I might have come across a touch—”

“Domineering?” I suggested with a tired smile. “No, it isn’t. I’m tired.”

He peered at me for a minute in silence, then slowly nodded while exhaling louder than was necessary. “All right, poppet. I’ll return to my lonely house tonight instead of spending it in your bed.”

I stifled a laugh at the forlorn note in his voice. Manipulative beast. “Behave yourself. We could both do with a proper night’s rest. Pop the trunk so I can get my stuff.”

Matt and I exited the car. He got my bags and insisted on seeing me in. There was a bunch of post waiting inside the front door. I picked up my mail as Matt put my bags on the couch. I hid a frown when I saw the letter from HM Revenue & Customs. It reminded me of Aunt Cleo’s own tax problem, which she was expecting me to solve. I stacked the letters away. They could be dealt with in the morning.

“Madison.” Matt was leaning against the back off the couch, arms folded and an unreadable expression on his face. He hardly called me by my first name, it was usually poppet, or Madi.

“Yes, Matthew?” The smile on my lips was strained. He was tense; that made me tense.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something for the past few weeks but the time never seems right.”

Why was he staring at me like that? I licked my lips nervously, trying not to jump to conclusions and failing miserably. He was going to say something that I probably didn’t want to hear.

“Um, is it important?” I hedged, not wanting to know the reason behind his closed-off expression. “Or can it wait for another time? I’m exhausted.”

Matt fidgeted, running a hand through his hair and averting his gaze for a moment. He looked nervous. That was a first.

“No, I don’t think it can,” he said, gaze returning to my face. I sighed, nodding and folding my arms. Defence mechanism.

“It’s okay, Matt. I can probably guess what it is.”

Scepticism covered his handsome features and he let out a sharp bark of laughter. “I doubt it.”

I walked over to the fireplace, unable to stand still. “You want to break things off. It’s fine. Whatever. I figured this was going to happen sometime soon. I’m not going to get mad or cry, unless you try to take back the shoes you bought me.” It was a feeble attempt at a joke.

Matt’s mouth fell open. What? Did he believe I was too stupid to notice how distracted he’d been the past few weeks? I may have been inexperienced when it came to relationships, but I wasn’t dumb. Well, not too dumb.

“Look, it is what it is,” I continued, brittle calmness echoing through my words. “We had fun and now you want out. That’s fine by me. I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s not like anyone would believe me anyway.”

The more I spoke, the angrier Matt seemed to get. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why he looked at me as if I was insane.

“Can I have my keys back? You’re not going to be needing them,” I finished, dying on the inside, but giving no outward appearance of it.

<><><>

Matt couldn’t believe his ears. Her little speech had left him without words. And her quiet acceptance of her erroneous assumption beggared belief. How could she stand there so calmly in front of him and act like their relationship meant nothing? For the first time since being with her, Matt felt true anger at his dark beauty.

“Are you out of your bloody mind?” he asked, seething and undecided whether he should shake some sense into her, or kiss what little she had out of her. He stalked a few steps towards the fireplace and she stiffened. “It is what it is? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I thought you—” she began with an unsure gaze.

“You thought?” he interrupted coldly. “Poppet, right now it seems thinking isn’t your forte. You’re going to stand there, after spending almost a week on holiday with me, and say you’re fine with me breaking things off? You have the cheek to look me in the eye and categorize the past few months we’ve been together as just fun?”

“Matt, I was being realistic—”

“You are so far off reality it shocks me.” He was past fuming. The urge to take her right now and prove to her that she belonged to him was overwhelming. He wanted to paddle her arse for her impertinence. How could she think about their relationship as a casual fling? Matt took another step towards her, literally shaking with fury. Then he noticed her dainty hands, frantically attacking her pinkie finger while she stared up at him in confusion. He closed the distance between them, his anger fading away into nothing as he grabbed her hands, stopping her from unconsciously hurting herself.

“I don’t want to stop seeing you, poppet,” he confessed softly. He had wanted the moment to be perfect when he made his admission, but he was tired of waiting for the opportunity to present itself. There was always something cropping up. He wasn’t going to wait any longer. “I’m in love with you, and I expect you to reciprocate those feelings. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to do something drastic—”

“What? You’re in love with me?” The astonishment on her face was priceless. Matt nodded, experiencing a sudden and rare spurt of indecisiveness. He had never said those words to a woman and truly meant it. He did now. Bugger.
Why wasn’t she saying anything?
She regarded him in shock. Then her face underwent a transformation so fast he wasn’t prepared for it. Or her reaction.

<><><>

“What the hell are you playing at?” I hissed, yanking my hands away from his hold. “You love me? Piss off. That’s bullshit. You love me?”

Matt nodded, eyeing me cautiously as I began to get mad. What sort of game was he playing? Did he expect me to believe this shit? Matthew Bradley, gazillionaire playboy, in love with me…yeah, right. And Oprah was my fairy godmother.