FOUR
He watched Martha leave then turned to Jessie. Her hands were curled into fists. She was obviously nervous. Instinct drove him to move. Light from the candles caught on her dark curls making each of her strands shimmer. He stopped himself from digging his fingers into her hair, to feel how soft it was, to see her moan as he caressed her scalp. Shit. He really needed to cut that out. Stopping beside her, he pulled the chair out for her to sit. Sparkly white teeth made an appearance with her wide smile. Her brown eyes reminded him of the smoothest milk chocolate.
“Thank you,” she said in a soft whisper. Her voice slipped down his cock in a light caress.
He took his seat across from her. Wow. She was so beautiful. Those pouty, shimmery lips and that thick, dark hair combined with her wide, brown eyes and he was hard as a rock. Then he remembered. The scars. He wouldn’t take her up to his room and slide the clingy dress off her body as he kissed his way down. He wasn’t ready to see the pity in her beautiful eyes. And if he couldn’t have her tonight, he needed a drink.
“Champagne?” Carlos returned with an open bottle at that moment.
“Yes, please.”
Once both glassed had been filled, Matt smiled at Jessie’s attempt to look everywhere but at him. A second later she gave up. Their gazes met. Carlos left them alone again. The leaves on the nearby palm trees rustled against the wind. He smiled. She licked her lips and once again his thoughts dropped down to the gutter.
“Let’s toast.” He lifted his flute up toward her.
“Sounds like a good idea.” She followed suit with her own.
“What would you like to drink to?” He asked, hoping to learn something about her.
“How about to fresh beginnings?”
“Perfect.” It was as if she’d read his mind. They clinked glasses and he sipped on the fuzzy liquor while he watched her.
He needed a fresh start with a woman that might not see him like a broken piece of furniture. Yes, he had scars, scars he wasn’t going to get rid of to make someone else happy. Those scars were part of him. Of the experience he’d lived during a very ugly war. He hadn’t fully adjusted to them, but whatever woman he ended up with would need to understand that he and the scars were one.
“So what do you do?” He asked, interested to hear more words come out of those sinful lips.
He bit back a groan when her tongue made an appearance, all pink and wet, sliding over her bottom lip. Arousal sparkled in her brown eyes. The way she licked her lip and glanced at his mouth brought vivid images of some of the things he’d have her do with that tongue. And those images would be used later for some self-pleasure.
“I work with Kayla. I’m her office manager. I also volunteer at the hospital where she treats children. What do you do?”
That was the problem about asking about someone, they ended up asking you things too.
“Ryan and I were in the same unit. Some of us returned together, after a bomb attack.”
Why did he say that? Was he intentionally trying to push her away, to shock her with his life?
She leaned forward. Both hands dropped to her lap. “That’s terrible. What types of injuries did you suffer?”
Her low fuck-me voice played havoc with his mind. Multiple visuals of her begging him to do her racked his brain. He gulped down the champagne and was given a reprieve from answering when Carlos returned with their salad.
A gust of wind played with her curls, bouncing them over her shoulders. Her eyes lifted from her food to pin him with a sensual stare. “Tell me.”
His breath caught in his chest. “I suffered burns on my torso.”
She nodded, but said nothing. Then, much to his amazement, she stabbed her salad with her fork and started to eat. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Where was the pity? The sad eyes and trembling lip? Or the let me see questions? Followed by the “oh God, that looks awful” remarks.
“The burns were bad,” he added.
She glanced to the side where Carlos returned to refill their champagne. “I’m sure they were.”
And back to the food. What the heck? Confusion filled him. So he tried again. “Most people pity me, but I can’t stand that.”
“Pity sucks.” She continued eating. “Do you still work for the same group?”
“No. I was honorably discharged,” he answered, but his real interest lay in why she didn’t ask more about his injuries.
“If you’re no longer in that team, what are you doing now?” She pushed the salad plate away and took a deep breath. Her full breasts pushed up against the neckline of her strapless dress. He swallowed down the groan rushing up his windpipe. Hell, he almost swallowed his damn tongue to keep from drooling at the sight.
“I recently joined my good friend’s security team. Got my first job lined up in New York.” He smiled at the way she caressed the petals of the flowers on the table.
Her head snapped up. “I live in New York.”
Things just got better and better. “I have to ask. Curiosity is killing me. Why haven’t you asked more questions about my scars?”
She shrugged those gorgeous tanned shoulders. “Any type of scar leaves a trail of pain behind. We never forget what hurts us. They’re an endless reminder of an experience so significant that they never go away.” She pinned him with her gaze. “Some people wear them on their bodies, while others carry them on the inside, but it doesn’t change the fact that once we get them, they’ll always be a part of us.” After a slow sip of her champagne, she sighed softly. “I only want to know what you want to tell me, Matt.”
Wow. Those words—her words—described his feelings perfectly. It was eerie. Almost like she knew how it felt first hand, which brought up more questions. “What happened to make you feel that way?”
Carlos retrieved the salad plates. Grilled fish, wild rice, and an assortment of vegetables followed.
“This looks fabulous.” She dazzled both men with her smile.
His mind ordered him to find out more about her. All about her. Had she lived through pain like him? Anything was possible. If Jessie related, even if by a small degree, to his pain, he knew she was special. “Do you have scars, Jessie?”
Another of those smoldering looks travelled from her to his side of the table. “Yes. I was married once. It was a short marriage, filled with too many issues.” She laughed a soft but dry sound. “The marriage wasn’t the worst part. The divorce was.”
He blinked at the change in her tone. Sorrow etched all over her features, but then she took a deep breath and it disappeared. The pain tugged at his heart. He knew pain. And she did too.
“Sometimes we learn from our mistakes.”
“Yes. Sometimes we do.”
Carlos returned with dessert. He placed her flan on the table with a flourish.
“Ooooh. I love flan!” She licked her lips while staring at the dessert.
“I do too,” he agreed. Another thing they had in common. He bet he’d find more by the end of the night. Maybe, just maybe, he’d give into the temptation and kiss her.
Those few moments lightened the mood considerably.
“So who did you piss off to get set up?” She winked.
Wait a second. She winked at him. That had to be one of the sexiest winks he’d ever seen.
“Nobody. Kayla’s been in a matchmaking mood ever since she and Ryan got married. It’s like all of a sudden everyone must get married too.” He chuckled, watching her dig her spoon into her dessert.
She visibly winced. “I know what you mean.”
“Aren’t you interested in finding love?” The question popped out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop it. Love? What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d just met a woman who’d been in a bad marriage and he was talking love. Dumbass. Plus what he really wanted was to get her out of that dress. He could think of at least a dozen ways to spend the night with her without showing his own body. It’d take some maneuvering, but he could work it.
With her gaze stuck on his, she sucked on the caramel covered spoon. Wild fire lust spread down to his cock. Need burned in his veins, driving the urge to strip her bare and lick her entire body.
“How about a walk on the beach?” She suggested, not answering his last question.