Читать книгу Hot Christmas Kisses - Joss Wood - Страница 11

Two

Matt walked into Brogan and Winston’s showroom on Charles Street and looked around.

A counter ran along an exposed brick wall and to the right of it was a waiting area with a striped green-and-white sofa and a white chair, both with perfectly placed orange cushions. Funky art hung on the walls and a vase brimming with fresh flowers sat on the coffee table. He liked what he saw, immediately understanding why Winston and Brogan had such an excellent reputation and were booked solid for months.

DJ, as the CFO, worked behind the scenes, but Matt knew how important her work was to the company’s overall success. He couldn’t do what he did without Greta, his office manager, who took care of the paperwork, the staff and the billing. Greta was as indispensable to him as DJ was to Winston and Brogan. Her name, after all, was on the door.

Matt heard footsteps on the iron staircase to the left and he turned to see a pair of knee-high boots and sexy knees coming down the stairs. He knew those legs, the shape of them. He’d tasted the backs of those knees, nibbled those pretty toes. The rest of DJ appeared: short skirt over black leggings, a white blouse, that gorgeous long neck. As she hit the bottom stair, he finally got to see her face for the first time in too many months and, as always, her beauty smacked him in the gut.

Her thick hair, as dark as a sable coat, was pulled back into a soft roll, tendrils falling down the sides of her face. Black-rimmed glasses covered her extraordinary brown-black eyes and her lips were covered in a soft pink gloss. She looked both beautiful and bossy, efficient and exciting.

Two steps and she could be in his arms—he’d duck his head and he’d be tasting her.

“Matt.”

No excitement, no throwing herself into his arms, God, he didn’t even rate a smile? What the hell had happened between last Christmas and now?

Matt took a closer look at her eyes and saw wariness, a healthy dose of I-don’t-need-this-today. Well, tough. He didn’t like unresolved situations. When he’d left DJ in the UK everything had been fine. Yeah, many months had passed but, unless she now had a boyfriend and had moved on, nothing should’ve changed. And if she had found someone—a thought that froze the blood in his veins—then why the hell hadn’t she just said so? That was their deal, dammit.

“Got someone else, Dylan-Jane?”

It took her a little time to make sense of his words, but when she did, her eyes widened and she quickly shook her head. Yep, that was answer enough. So, no boyfriend. “Then what’s the problem?”

DJ glared at him, sent the young receptionist a cool smile and jerked her head toward the stairway. “Can we discuss this in private?”

Matt jammed his hands into the pockets of his pants as he followed DJ up the stairs and down a short passageway to a corner office. He stepped inside the brutally neat room and watched her stride toward her wide desk.

She wanted to put a physical barrier between them but he had no intention of letting that happen. One long step allowed him to capture her wrist. He swung her around and pulled her to him so that her breasts touched his chest and the top of her head brushed his chin. He looked down at her, his mouth quirking at her shocked expression. “So, no new guy, then?”

“No.”

Thank God. Matt dropped his gaze from her eyes to her mouth and after a couple of beats, looked her in the eyes again. She immediately understood what he wanted...and yeah, it was what she wanted, too. The attraction between them had always been a living, breathing thing. A year ago, he would’ve dived into the kiss and been sure of his welcome, but too much time and distance had created a barrier between them. It was hell to wait for her to make the first move, to wait for her to rise onto her toes and fit her mouth against his. It took a minute, maybe more, but then her lips were on his and the world suddenly made sense again.

Matt immediately took control of the kiss, covering her mouth with his, sliding his hands over her hips and bringing her flush against him. His pants immediately shrunk a size as he filled the empty places of his soul by kissing Dylan-Jane. Spice, sex, heat, heaven...

It took less than a heartbeat for Dylan-Jane to open her mouth up to his tongue, and a second later her arms were looped around his neck and her fingers were in his hair. Potent relief ran through him: she still, thank God, wanted him as much as he craved her.

Matt wound his tongue around hers, tasting her spiciness and sweetness, and sighed. Yeah, he’d missed this, missed her breathy moans and the purrs of appreciation she made in the back of her throat.

When DJ’s fingers pushed into his hair, when she held his head to keep his mouth on hers, he knew she was fully, completely in the moment with him.

Matt pushed aside his urge to strip her, telling himself that he wasn’t going to make love to her on her office couch in the middle of the day. But he could kiss her, let her fill up those hollow spaces in his soul. He needed nothing as much as he needed to hold her...

Soft, sweet and still sexy—Matt felt like he’d conquered the world when she quivered under his touch. He needed to taste more of her, kiss a place more intimate than her mouth, so he flipped open the top buttons of her designer silk shirt and pushed aside the fabric to reveal her lace-and-satin bra. Unable to wait, he pulled aside the cup and there she was, pretty and plump. Ducking his head, he touched his lips to her, swiping his tongue across her nipple, feeling the shudder run through her.

He loved that he could make her feel like this, that he could take her from mad and sad to pleasure, that he could put those purrs in her throat, make her arch her back in eagerness. Her fingers in his hair tightened as he blew air over her nipple and his name on her lips was both a plea and a demand for more.

He moved to her other breast, loving the taste and texture of her. His hand traveled down her hip. Matt slid his other hand over her ass, kneading her under the fabric of her skirt before inching the material up so his fingers brushed the back of her thighs. He wanted those legs around his hips, her breasts in his mouth. He needed to be inside her as soon as possible.

He wanted them naked; he needed her. Matt’s hand slid between her legs, wishing away the fabric barriers between her secret places and his fingers...

Then Matt was touching air and DJ was...gone.

Matt looked at the empty space between them and shook his head. One minute she was in his arms and the next she was halfway across the room, staring at him, her mouth wet from his kisses and her eyes blurry with desire. She wanted him, so why the hell was she six feet away and he was here? Matt took a step toward her and DJ held up her hands.

“This is my office, Edwards. I’m not about to get naked with you here.”

Fair point. How soon could they leave? It had been a hell of a long time since he’d seen her naked, kissed her senseless, heard her moan as she fell apart in his arms.

“I’m not about to get naked with you at all.”

Matt blinked. What?

There wasn’t anyone else. They’d just shared a kiss hot enough to melt glass. They’d been sleeping together for many years. He was going to be around for the foreseeable future and she was cutting him off?

What was happening here?

What was he missing?

DJ gestured to the sofa. “Take a seat, let’s talk.”

He’d rather be making love, but since that was out of the question Matt sat down, adjusting his still rock-hard erection and begging it to calm the hell down because it wasn’t needed at this precise moment.

“Coffee?” DJ asked.

Matt nodded, stretched out his legs and ordered himself to get a grip. He watched DJ with narrowed eyes as she popped a pod into her fancy machine, powered it up and, when the mug was full, added a dash of milk. Ignoring the sugar dispenser, she walked over, placing the mug on the coffee table in front of him. Then she took the seat opposite him and draped one slim leg over her bouncing knee.

DJ was nervous. Now, that was interesting.

“What are you doing back in Boston, Matt, and how long do you intend to stay?”

“I have some personal business that necessitates me sticking around for a few weeks. One part of that personal business is persuading my grandfather to move into an assisted-living facility.”

DJ’s eyes turned warm with sympathy and his heart stuttered. He loved her expressive eyes, the way emotions swam through them, the way they resembled luxurious chocolate.

“Is he sick?”

Matt shook his head. “Alzheimer’s.”

“I’m so sorry, Matt.” DJ tipped her head to the side, curiosity all over her face. “And your other personal business?”

He wasn’t ready to talk to her, or anyone, about his daughter, Emily.

Besides, he wasn’t here to talk. He wanted to feel. He wanted to touch the skin on the inside of DJ’s thighs, pull her tasty nipples into his mouth, nibble her toes. In her arms, while he loved her, he could forget about the complications of this past year.

Dylan-Jane was his escape, his fantasy woman, the perfect relationship because it was all surface. Because she didn’t demand anything more than he was prepared to give.

But instead of falling into him and losing herself in the pleasure he could give her, she was retreating. Hell, if she had “back off, buster” tattooed across her forehead, her message couldn’t be any clearer. DJ uncrossed her legs, leaned forward and rested her forearms on her bended knees. She stared at her hands for a long time before looking up at Matt. “Cards on the table, Matt?”

He didn’t expect a good hand but nodded anyway.

“Your being back in Boston, even on a short-term basis, doesn’t work for me.”

Well, hell. Not what he wanted to hear. In his mind, reality crashed into fantasy and he felt a little sick. And a lot disappointed. He’d been relying on having some time with DJ as a way to step out of his head and regroup.

“I have a life here and that life doesn’t have room for a hot lawyer who wants to share my bed.” DJ glanced at her desk and lifted her eyebrows. “But maybe we can go somewhere in the New Year, see if the magic is still there.”

Matt didn’t know if she was being serious, and not knowing where he stood pissed him off. And there was something in her tone...something he couldn’t put his finger on. Behind her tough-girl words, he could see vulnerability and...was that guilt?

“What aren’t you telling me, DJ?”

DJ arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

Damn if that prissy voice didn’t make him harder than he already was, if that was possible. “Spill it, DJ.”

Irritation flashed in her eyes and she shook her head, looking weary. “Lawyers. If you weren’t so damn hot I wouldn’t have hooked up with you.” She sighed. “I don’t have space in my life for an affair with you, Matt. I work long hours, I like my space. Also, I tend to get cranky around this time of year, so I prefer to be alone.”

She didn’t like Christmas? Why not? There was a story there. Another one. And why was he suddenly so curious? For seven years, he’d managed not to ask her questions, not to dig deeper, but now his first reaction to new information was to find a spade and start shoveling?

Get a grip, Edwards!

“Apart from a weekend of great sex with you here and there, I like being alone. Seeing you a couple of times a year is enough for me.”

Matt leaned back, placed his ankle on his opposite knee and held DJ’s gaze. She was trying so hard to remain calm, to persuade him that she was a cold woman who didn’t feel anything, but she needed to become a lot better at lying before he bought into her BS. She wasn’t cold, or sophisticated, or tough. What she was, was bone-deep scared of having him in Boston.

Why? Why could she easily handle a few days with him but seeing him regularly scared the pants off her?

And why did he care?

And why wasn’t he saying to hell with this drama and walking out her door? He could leave, walk down the block and into a bar and, after a couple of cocktails and an hour or two of small talk, he was pretty sure he could score. But he didn’t want sex with some random stranger.

There was only one woman he wanted...

Matt leaned forward and swiped his thumb across DJ’s lower lip, his fingers lightly stroking her jaw. Desire burned in her eyes and under his fingers her skin heated. Glancing down, he noticed her nipples beading, pushing against the thin fabric of her silk shirt.

She’d never been able to hide her attraction to him, thank God. Because he saw her need for him, could feel her heat, could almost taste her...he pushed.

He kept his voice low, but his tone was resolute. “So here’s what’s going to happen, Dylan-Jane. I’m going to be living across the road from you and we’re going to run into each other often. Your friends are mine and our paths will cross. And even if they don’t, I’ll make damn sure they do. It’s been too damn long since I’ve had you and I want you under me as soon as possible. Yeah, this year has been unusual, I accept that. What I don’t accept is this barrier you’ve flung up between us. But know this, I will pull it down and I will find out why you put it up in the first place.”

“Matt—”

“Not done.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “We’ve always been honest with each other and you’re not being honest now. While I think part of what you said is true—you like being alone and Christmas sucks—that’s not the whole truth.”

“You haven’t told me the whole truth about why you are back in Boston,” DJ pointed out.

He hadn’t, he had to give her that. “But that has nothing to do with you, nothing at all, and I know, don’t ask me how, that your stay-away-from-me attitude is all about me, about us.”

He saw agreement flash in her eyes and sighed. God, what was going on with her? And why couldn’t she just spit it out? Matt closed his eyes and released a long breath.

“Jesus, DJ, just tell me already.”

DJ stood up, walked over to the window and folded her arms across her stomach. She bowed her head and he could see her shoulders shaking. God, he hoped she wasn’t crying. Tears were his Kryptonite. He stood up, went over to her and stood behind her, not touching her but silently offering his support. “You can tell me, Dylan-Jane.”

DJ remained silent for a long time and when she finally turned, he saw the capitulation in her eyes. Finally!

“We made love on Christmas Eve and I got pregnant.” Her words were a series of punches in his solar plexus. He battled to find air, to make sense of her words. Then DJ took another deep breath and spoke again. “I lost the baby in February.”

It took a minute, an hour—a decade—for his brain to restart, his mouth to work. He thought he was calm but when the words flew out of his mouth, they emerged as a roar. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me? As soon as you knew?”

DJ’s face drained of color and she retreated a step so that her back was flush against the window.

“I tried—”

“Not that hard,” Matt shouted, unable to control the volume of his voice. “I had a right to know, dammit! How dare you take that away from me? You lied to me! You let me believe one thing when the exact opposite was true. Jesus, Gemma!”

Gemma? Had he really said that?

Matt stared at DJ, noting her dark eyes dominating her face. She was edging her way to the door, needing to walk away from him. He didn’t blame her. In his anger and shock, he’d overlapped Gemma’s and DJ’s actions and he wasn’t sure which situation he was reacting to. He needed to leave, to get his head on straight, to think about what she’d said, what had happened.

To find distance and control.

Matt whirled around, walked to the door and yanked it open. Stepping into the hallway, he saw Jules and Darby jogging down the hallway toward him with Amazonian warrior-woman expressions on their faces. They blocked his path, momma bears protecting their cub.

“What happened?” Jules demanded, her expression fierce.

“Did you hurt her?” Darby asked, equally ferocious. “If you hurt her, we will make her press charges.”

God, what did they take him for? “She’s fine. We just had an argument,” Matt wearily replied.

Air, he needed air.

“If she’s hurt, Edwards, I swear to God we’ll string you up,” Darby told him before she and Jules pushed past him and rushed down the hallway to their friend’s office.

Matt watched them rush away, his heart trying to claw its way out of his chest. He rubbed his hand over his breastbone, trying to ease the ache, a part of him still not believing DJ’s declaration. For the second time in his life, he’d heard that a woman had miscarried his baby. Unlike the last time he’d experienced this news, the baby he’d briefly given DJ would not, like Emily had earlier this year, write him a letter and tell him that he, or she, was his biological child and ask if they could meet.

He didn’t want a family, wasn’t cut out to be a dad, but, man, that thought made him feel profoundly sad.