CHAPTER SIX
ANGELA KNEW BETTER than to let their relationship get physical. Matt claimed he didn’t care about what had happened thirteen years ago, but he didn’t understand. There was a living, breathing person as a result of that night. Surely, he’d want to know.
Or maybe not. Maybe he liked his life exactly as it was. That was what he’d implied.
But now wasn’t the time to dwell on her worries. His fingers were lightly caressing one breast through the thin fabric of her bra, sending shock waves of pleasure cascading through her.
“Matt,” she murmured, still torn. Her conscience demanded she stop him, but her body begged her to close her eyes and forget. She’d tried to say his name in a commanding tone—but it came out choked and eager, and she could feel how deeply it affected him.
Pulling her along the railing to a set of stairs, he led her down to a small guest room. Set off from the rest of the house, it had a bed and its own bath.
“Let me see you,” he whispered as he shut and locked the door behind them.
In the house above, they could hear Christmas music, laughter, the tramping of feet. But it seemed far removed from them. Angela imagined Kayla grinning from ear to ear, licking frosting off her fingers. For the moment, everyone was happy. There was no need to ruin the party by blurting out the truth or to deny themselves these few stolen minutes. What would that really change?
Slowly, Angela slipped her red sweater over her head, watching carefully for Matt’s reaction as it dropped to the floor—and was gratified when his eyes darkened and his jaw sagged.
“God, you’re more beautiful than I imagined.” Bending his head, he cupped her breasts, kissing the swell of one, then the other.
Angela let her head fall back. She wouldn’t think, she told herself. Not about Denver or Virginia City. Not about the past or the future. She’d only feel—the feverish excitement building inside them; his deft hands unhooking her bra and sliding around to touch her; his warm, wet mouth closing over the tip of one breast; his muscular body pressing her into the mattress.
* * *
MATT COULDN’T BELIEVE he’d brought Angela into his old bedroom right in the middle of his parents’ Christmas party. He’d meant to kiss her, to catch a tantalizing glimpse of her body, to touch her briefly. But the situation was quickly spiraling out of control. And he couldn’t stop it for fear she’d never let him have another chance. His craving was too great. He had to feel her body’s quivering responses, acquaint himself with all the little things that made her moan and writhe and cry out.
He hoped to make this as memorable as possible for her, but he didn’t dare take it slow. There wasn’t time. He didn’t want to embarrass her by being gone so long someone would come looking for them. And the way she was tugging impatiently at his clothes told him she was as frantic as he was.
Once they were undressed, he pulled her down on the bed with him and pinned her arms over her head while he rolled on the condom he kept in his wallet.
She watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, her lips wet and slightly parted. But the gentle kiss he meant to give her quickly turned savage. Soon he was driving into her with powerful, rapid strokes. Minutes later, they were both damp with sweat and gasping for breath. And just when he thought he was too far gone to hold back any longer, it happened. She groaned, met his gaze as if he’d given her the most wonderful gift in the world, and shuddered.
He was only half a second behind her.
* * *
STEPHANIE LAY ON THE rumpled bed of the cheap hotel room staring bleary-eyed at the television. She could smell urine and perspiration, but it didn’t bother her. She squinted, trying to decide if she was actually watching a program. It didn’t matter. The flicker itself was fascinating, especially when her mind was floating so freely around the room. Spinning, moving, gliding…
“Hey, get up, bitch.”
Slowly, she turned her head and blinked. A man’s fuzzy shape appeared. Jaydog? “Hey, Jaydog,” she said, the syllables running together.
She tried to make her gaping mouth form a smile, but he didn’t seem happy with her greeting. A sharp pain suddenly dimmed her euphoria. Had he kicked her?
He was still kicking her. And screaming. He wanted her to do something. He wanted her to get out.
Climbing to her feet, she swayed unsteadily as she walked, heading for an opening that was blinding in its brightness. That had to be the door. She misjudged the distance and ran into a corner, causing an additional glancing blow to her shoulder. But then she was outside and the door slammed behind her.
She didn’t know how long she stood there before she noticed that she wasn’t wearing any clothes.
* * *
HE’D MADE A MISTAKE. Matt realized that almost right away. He’d expected his encounter with Angela to bring them closer, to put an end to her cautious reserve.
But after they rejoined the party, she left his side as quickly as she could. He found his gaze trailing after her wherever she went, hoping for a smile or some reassurance that what they’d done was okay—but he got nothing. She wouldn’t even look at him. And if there was any accidental contact, she’d recoil.
What was going on? What they’d shared had been a great deal more than he’d expected. Especially so early in their relationship. But she was leaving in a week. It wasn’t as if they had months or years stretching out before them. Even if they maintained a relationship, they wouldn’t get to see each other very often. Besides, maybe he’d initiated the contact, but her surprising response had been the match that ignited the powder keg. The encounter had been completely spontaneous. Real. Raw.
He couldn’t regret it.
Yet she was even less open to him now than she’d been before.
What had he done wrong? He supposed he shouldn’t have taken things so far. But he hadn’t planned for it to happen—not here, anyway.
He wasn’t sure when he should’ve stopped. Angela had never indicated that she’d wanted him to. She’d acted as if she’d been starved for human touch, love.
He’d wanted to give her both.
He took a seat across the room from her and her daughter as his mother started handing out presents. Angela and Kayla sat with polite smiles fixed on their faces—outsiders looking in, enjoying everyone else’s gifts and excitement without hoping for anything themselves.
He glanced over, but Angela avoided meeting his eyes. Again.
Maybe she’d been so hurt in the past that she was scared to let down her guard, he decided. She must’ve had a lonely childhood, after losing both parents and then living like a guest in someone else’s house.
Then there was Stephanie. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what dealing with her on a daily basis must’ve been like. Even as an adult Angela seemed to live a pretty solitary life—just her and Kayla. They were both engaging and polite, and he sensed that they wanted closer relationships than they had but didn’t know how to reach out because they had no trust.
He remembered Kayla’s story about her father. So he walked out, and left my mom to raise me by herself. We don’t even know where he is.
The bastard had caused some deep scars.
“Are you going to open it?”
Matt blinked and focused on his sister-in-law, who’d just shoved a present into his lap.
“Sure,” he said, and unwrapped a bottle of his favorite cologne.
“This is great. I was getting low.” He gave her a hug, then waited for the process to continue around the circle until it was Angela’s and Kayla’s turn.
His uncle, who was sitting next to him, received a basket of salami and cheese. Matt’s father acted excited over a new hand drill.
At first, Grandma had tried to boycott the gift exchange because his mother had put a ban on the special eggnog Matt usually provided. But then she relented, opened his brother’s gift, which was a box of chocolate-covered cherries and, with a spiteful glare for his mother, stuffed three in her mouth at once.
“Wow. You go, Grandma,” Ray said, sitting taller for Matt’s benefit. “I guess I’m your new favorite grandson, huh?”
Matt shot his mother a look that said, “Next year I’m bringing the eggnog.” But he didn’t bother to wait for her response. It was Kayla’s turn to open her gift, and he didn’t want to miss it.
“This is for me?” she asked in surprise when his aunt dug the present out from those that remained.
His mother checked the tag. “Yep. From Matt.”
Kayla smiled shyly at him and tore away the wrapping. When she reached the plush blue box inside, she sent him another questioning glance, then snapped open the lid.
Her smile spread across her whole face. “It’s a gold locket,” she breathed. “I love it!”
Her response filled some of the hollowness Matt had been feeling since he’d left the bedroom downstairs. Especially when she hurried across the room to hug him. Her little arms felt so thin and fragile, as fragile as he imagined her heart must be.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said.
She immediately returned to her mother so Angela could help her put it on, but Sherry insisted they let someone else do that so Angela could open her gift.
Angela’s eyes flew wide when Sherry set a box in her lap, a box that was much, much bigger than Kayla’s. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t bring any gifts,” she said self-consciously.
Matt shrugged. “I didn’t tell you it was a gift exchange.”
She cleared her throat. “You should have.”
He hadn’t wanted her to feel obligated to go out and buy a bunch of presents. He’d just wanted her to come. “It’s fine.” Hadn’t anyone ever given her a gift she could accept without feeling the obligation to respond in kind?
Probably not. Typically, only parents and grandparents gave gifts like that.
Matt’s mother huddled closer to Angela. “Let’s see what it is.”
“Yeah, open it,” Kayla chimed in, her locket now securely fastened around her neck.
Angela unwrapped the box and pulled out the quilt Matt had found in one of the gift shops. Handmade by a local woman, it showed nine historically significant structures in Virginia City—the First Presbyterian Church on C Street, Mackay Mansion on D Street, Piper’s Opera House at B and Union, the Fourth Ward School on C, St. Mary’s in the Mountains, Storey County Courthouse, the Territorial Enterprise Museum, where Mark Twain had begun his career, and the Liberty Engine Company No. 1 State Fireman Museum. In the Fireman square, he’d had the maker stitch Love, Matt, along the edge.
“It’s beautiful!” Angela exclaimed.
He could tell she really liked it. “I thought it might give you something to remember us by.”
“Come on, Matt. Who could forget you?” his brother teased.
“She won’t forget you,” his mother announced and slapped a square flat present in her lap.
Matt immediately recognized the size and shape, and groaned. “I left those at home. On purpose. How did you get—”
“I have my own stash,” she said triumphantly.
Sure enough, it was a copy of the calendar.
“He’s May and November,” his aunt informed Angela, and just about ripped it out of her hands so she could turn to the right months. “See? Isn’t he gorgeous? He’s my nephew, but I gotta tell ya, he’s the hottest one in there.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Come on, Aunt Margaret.”
His sister-in-law laughed and pointed. “I never would’ve believed it possible, but I think you’re embarrassing him.”
Matt scowled. “Why would I be embarrassed? I only did it to help the burn victims.”
“Honey, that thing’s started more fires than you’ll ever put out,” his aunt teased.
The whole family had a good laugh at his expense. But Matt didn’t mind too much. Not when Angela finally looked up from the calendar and he saw the heat in her eyes.
Maybe she was trying not to acknowledge what she felt. But whatever had caused the frenzy downstairs wasn’t gone. Not by a long shot.