One Week Three Hearts: (9 page)

Fingertips grazed the back of her neck. Hypersensitivity to touch caused her body to quickly lift and fall back into the seat. Relief followed when she turned to see Matt holding a bottle of sunscreen. A kinder halo surrounded his eyes, but Rose couldn't read him.

"You need sunlight," Matt said after leading her out to the patio. Something inside Rose nagged to question or protest as she trailed behind him like a puppy following its owner from room to room. Words refused to form. She studied the heart shaped calves lightly covered with light brown hairs, and the sheet draped around her whispered along the floor. A warm cocoon of consent crushed her frustrations. It was easier to let him take over.

Without asking for permission, he untucked the sheet wrapped around her body. The fully exposed nakedness wasn't rewarded with appreciative glances. No head to toe gaze. No suggestive longing or promise of something sensual to come. Matt carefully hid any emotion behind a mask.

He gestured for her to lay down on a lounge chair. Rose snatched up the sheet he left in a pile on the floor, then tossed it towards a side chair. It was easier to comply with Matt's simple requests than to decide between resentment and aching for him.

"This is high SPF but don't stay out here too long — especially on one side," Matt said. "You'll burn. The rest of the week will suck if that happens."

Every place his methodical hands touched soothed her. Matt's sunglasses obscured his eyes, but she could see her pale skin reflected in them as he worked the sunblock into her arms and shoulders.

Matt didn't linger anywhere on her body. A semi-firm touch applied sunscreen to an area, then moved on somewhere else. Flicking the plastic cap open and closed was the only sound breaking silence between them.

Rose licked her lips when his exploring hands reached her breasts. The gesture didn't go unnoticed; Matt told her to relax and not to get any ideas.

Say that all you want; it won't change anything.

"Turn over," Matt said flatly. "You can get the rest of your front without my help."

Rose's legs awkwardly stuck to the lounger's vinyl mat, and she regretted not asking him to spread a towel out. Turning onto her stomach, Rose resisted closing her eyes once she was decently comfortable, and she caught a quick glimpse of Matt squeezing more lotion into the palms of his hand. He worked the sunscreen into her back's freckled skin from her shoulders down to her waist, while Rose guessed his tense expression reflected impatience.

Grateful Matt's firm palms rubbing her back generally avoided her ticklish sides, Rose quietly sucked in her breath when his hands reached her ass. Matt told her to knock it off when she parted her legs. The chastisement hurt. Was she supposed to be made of stone and repress all signs of physical need? What kind of cruel test was this? Matt must know how sore and stretched she was from what Mikhel did to her the night before; every time Matt separated her buttocks with his hands, a burning pain mixed with overwhelming desire shot through her.
 

Matt wasn't even watching her face for any reaction; she saw his hands massaging her fill his sunglasses in a surreal reflection. Rose thought it strange that his hands spent so much time touching the left side more than he did the right. Matt looked as if something just occurred to him, and he abruptly stood up after giving her an excuse about checking on something work-related.

Left alone with the sunscreen and her thoughts, Rose did her best to get the areas Matt ignored before laying on her front to let the sun warm her back.

I came here because I thought you needed me, Matt. Instead, you treat me like a mannequin in a store window for my husband. You shoved the truth about him into my face; I know now it was there the whole time, and maybe I always knew but I pushed it aside.

Is all of this some elaborate classroom for Jason's benefit? Or for mine? Or was this as simple as the point you continually hammer home — Jason wants to watch?

You don't need me, Matt. I was a fool for thinking you did. Jason is the one who needs me. We made a life together that Jason thought he didn't deserve. I just wanted to give him the one thing any woman wants to give… the one thing I know in my heart that will redeem him and prove that yes, he isn't his father. Am I selfish for wanting to experience that at least once?

The sunlight's temperature transformed from warm to hot, and Rose's back felt enflamed. She turned over, and closed her eyes against the bright daylight.

You're his best friend. He went to you because we were so scared and disappointed. You give us a contract that tells us you want nothing to do with us or the baby. But that morning, you gave us a check with "family" written on it? I can't figure you out.

What do you want from me, Matt? I can't take this anymore. Do you want me to choose between you and Jason? I can't. I want you. I want my husband with all his faults. I love my husband, and at the same time, I want you.

I can't choose you over him. Is that it?

Did I make a mistake directing my anger at you for telling me the truth? I'm not angry at you, Matt. I was furious at the truth.

Was.

Overheated and slightly dizzy, Rose sat up. Not knowing how much time passed since Matt left her out here, she lifted her sunglasses, and was surprised to see her skin appear slightly golden instead of the bright lobster red she imagined.

Rose spied the outdoor shower, and used its lukewarm water to rinse off the sheen caused from the sunblock and a light sweat. Still dazed from the time spent in the sun and wanting another glass of water, she walked back into the main part of the house without covering up. Matt's bedroom door was slightly open.

It isn't locked. That can't be a careless mistake.

Rose pulled open the stainless steel refrigerator, found the pitcher of ice water, and poured herself a glass while keeping an eye on the door. She wondered if Matt heard her pattering bare feet against the cool tile floor or any other sound. When the door didn't suddenly close from the noise she made in the kitchen, Rose glanced up at the camera tucked away among the ceiling beams as she drank from the glass.

That one is on. Who is watching me right now? Jason? Matt? Both? Neither?

Without any signs of life providing any clues from beyond the beckoning door, Rose debated going in and seeing what was in there. After placing the glass on the quartz countertop, she took a few tentative steps toward Matt's bedroom. Her fingers traced the etched lines in the teak wood before her open palm connected solidly. She pushed forward and took a cautious step inside the room.

Shirtless, Matt sat on the bed hunched over a laptop with headphones in his ears, and his head bobbed slightly to whatever they emitted.

"What do you want, Rose?"

That simple, benign question summed everything up in Rose's mind, and she answered without regret or second guessing herself.

"You," she said. Relief washed through her heart as all the confusion vanished.
 

Matt ripped the headphones from his head, violently pushed the laptop off the bed, and strode towards her. Each forceful step revealed another frighteningly intense feature that caused her to recoil from him with a small step backwards. His face transformed into one Rose interpreted as pure rage; his brow furrowed while his nostrils flared, and he clenched his firm jaw so tightly that his lips disappeared into that angry thin line.

Rose quickly searched his eyes and didn't find any familiar visual hints of love or desire in them. Matt oozed fury as he closed the distance between them. For a split second that coincided with his hands raising towards her throat, an overwhelming sense of terror completely possessed her, and every single hair on her body raised in unison.

He… he is going to kill me.

The lines on his hands were the last thing she remembered before they clasped both her cheeks. His lips brutally crushed against her slack mouth. Matt's tongue forced its way through the last barriers of her lips and teeth, while his fingertips pressed firmly into her temples.

His shocking intensity kept her focus to studying his face. A small half moon scar defined his right eye's outer boundary. When Rose timidly met his searing gaze, she gasped at the foreignness she found. Matt forged his tongue deeper into her mouth, entwining it with hers to form a hungry union. Matt then ripped his tongue away, and closed his mouth around her tongue. He sucked on her tongue's flesh so hard, she thought he would disjoint it from her mouth.
 

Rose gathered courage to reach under Matt's arms to place her hands on the back of his neck. Heat radiated from his skin, and her fingertips slid on the slick moisture gathered there. Cold sweat beaded her forehead; she couldn't remember when she last took a breath. Matt's tongue retreated from her mouth at her soft touch. He refused to break his piercing stare while leaning his forehead against hers. After recovering from Matt's partial disengagement, Rose finally breathed in air tinged with his familiar Bvlgari scent.

Matt licked his lips. "Do you want me to turn the cameras off?" he asked in between hitching breaths.

"No, I want him to see this." It wasn't as hard to admit it to herself as she thought.

"Good girl," Matt replied with a half-smile.

The room blurred as Matt forced her to turn around. His fingers didn't relax their grip on her face, and the pressure on her cheekbones touched pain's thin border. The terror left her as quickly as it arrived when Rose realized he was just trying to guide her to the bed across the room. Sure enough, Matt pushed her to walk backwards until her calf hit the short footboard, and then released her to fall on to the coverlet.

The potent expression didn't waver from Matt's face as he parted her legs by grabbing Rose's right leg and roughly shoving it towards her stomach. Rose briefly wondered if he would enter her right then, but she quickly realized this allowed Matt to lean over, position his arms underneath hers, and reach back with one to grab a fistful of her hair. Fear crept back from its hasty retreat as his face closed in to within inches of her own, trapping Rose between his hand and body.
 

Burnt orange light slipped through a narrow gap in a window covering, placing a stripe on Matt's forehead dotted with small beads of sweat. His facial muscles visibly tensed. Lips she desperately wanted to kiss twisted into a restrained sneer as if daring her to move or make a sound. Any remaining doubt about his intentions completely vacated her mind. This was the real Matt. The man that tempted her almost a decade ago. He didn't seek comfort; Matt needed something else from her — accepting his true self. The small acknowledgement she could afford him came in the form of the tiniest nod.

Yes, Matt. Please.

Teeth scraped her lower lip, and his tongue quickly bathed the chapped skin before pulling Rose's head back by her hair. Forced to arch her back by the movement, Matt sat back on his knees and supported her torso with his free arm while sporadically kissing her neck with small bites interspersed. A shudder traveled through her body to her heels braced on his calves.When Rose was halfway to a sitting position and using her arms to assist supporting herself, Matt's face aligned with her breast and his hot breath warmed her skin.

Rose sucked her cheeks in and gave her lungs a luxuriously long fill as Matt's mouth moved to her unattended breast. Holding her nipple between his teeth and flicking it with the point of his tongue made Rose moan in pure ecstasy. Although the bite wasn't particularly painful, the pleasurable shock snapped her focus to the combined effect of control and teasing.

She fought to keep still enough for him to continue without sinking back into the bed. Rose didn't want to do anything that would pause his tongue's incredible rhythm that somewhat matched the tinny sounds emitting from the headphones abandoned on the floor. The tantalizing sensation from his tongue dancing behind his teeth lit a fire deep within her, and set off the caged connection shared with Matt.

Craving a greater level of physical action to match his exhumed intensity, Rose increased downward pressure on his arm wrapped around her wide back, and hoped the action conveyed her desire to relinquish full control of the situation to him. His shorts' cross hatch pattern imprinted on her rigid inner thigh as Matt's body pressed forward.

Force was as her aphrodisiac. She didn't want to consent; Matt already had that. She wanted him to take the decision making from her and push her down on the bed without going limp and passive.

He broke her into pieces and now Rose wanted him to make her whole.

Matt permitted her to lower her torso while his teeth pulled on her nipple; the tantalizing sight of his eyes on her added a shiver down her spine to her growing reaction repertoire. Rose couldn't tell if it was the pain itself — or the sharp contrasting absence — that caused her gasp when Matt's teeth released her nipple and let her back touch the bed's coverlet.

The air conditioning kicked on. Cool air hit the spot where his damp forehead rested on her chest, sending a tingle throughout her overheated body. She looked past the rapid rising of her chest to see his tongue sliding the length of her stomach. Her hands unsuccessfully grabbed at the tightly tucked bedspread, while Matt's hands followed the direction his body slid, lingering only a moment to emphasize a particular spot his tongue previously visited.

Rose's deepening sighs transformed into lower octave moans when Matt's teeth sunk into the flesh of her inner right thigh with a sharp pinch. Before she could react, Matt quickly bathed the spot with his tongue and a slight suck between his pursed lips. He constantly stayed one step ahead of her responses and completely controlled their tempo. As soon as her moan almost finished, Matt was on to the next spot, building on her heightened awareness using layers of stimulation. Rose couldn't keep track of what specific action he performed that caused each reaction.
 

He knows I'm ready.