Ashes, Ashes, They All Fall Dead (24 page)

She was still trying to catch her breath from that one, innocent little touch, while he seemed completely unaffected. He flipped through several pages of songs on the screen, then settled the earphone back against her ear.

The soft sounds that came through the speaker this time were hauntingly beautiful but far too slow for her taste.

She picked up the tablet. “Let’s see if you have anything decent on here.”

She flipped through the screens like she’d seen him do. “I don’t recognize half this stuff. It’s either classical or heavy-metal noise. Is this what young men listen to these days?”

“I don’t know about
young men
, but I know what I like.”

She flipped through a few more screens. “And what exactly do you like?” she asked.

“You.”

Her breath caught and she looked up, just as he lowered his mouth to hers.

Like lightning to dry kindling, the heat was instantaneous, sending a bolt of longing straight to her belly. She moaned deep in her throat, moving against him, trying to get closer. He cupped her face with his hands, his fingers threading through her hair, plucking at her braid until her hair fell around her shoulders.

Suddenly an electric guitar blared in her ear as another heavy-metal song came on. She jerked back, breaking their kiss.

Matt laughed and pulled back. He typed on the screen again. The music stopped. He dropped the tablet onto the nightstand and suddenly he was pressing her back against the bed.

She pushed against his chest. “This isn’t a good idea. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

Instead of moving away, he settled closer against her, trapping her.

“Are you sure you want to leave?”

She licked her lips, remembering their kiss. Even now she wanted to kiss him again. She had to put some distance between them before she did something she’d regret. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“Why?”

“Why am I sure?”

“Why do you fight this attraction between us? We’re both unattached. Why not enjoy each other?”

She raised her hands in exasperation. “Because nothing has changed. You’re still twenty-four. A baby. I’m still thirty, practically an old maid.”

He laughed.

She glared at him. “This isn’t funny. There’s no reason for you to be attracted to me.”

He rolled his eyes. “There are plenty of reasons to be attracted to you.”

“Is it an older woman fantasy or something? Why aren’t you with some young, doe-eyed twenty-year-old? Like that infant desk clerk downstairs?”

“What would I talk to a doe-eyed, twenty-year-old girl about?”

“I don’t know what twentysomethings talk about anymore. That’s my point. I’m starting a whole different decade.”

He slowly shook his head and leaned down, down, until his handsome face was just inches from hers. Then, instead of kissing her on the mouth, he kissed her on her forehead. “That’s your appeal,” he said.

She frowned. “My forehead?”

He gave her an exasperated look. “Your mind. I’m attracted to that sexy brain of yours. Don’t get me wrong, everything else makes for one hell of a package, but it’s your intelligence, your beliefs, your passion for justice that makes you irresistible.” He slid his hand underneath her shirt, up her belly, blazing a hot path across the underside of her breast to rest on top.

“And this,” he said, “your heart. That’s the most appealing of all. You care deeply about helping others, and that’s your guiding principle. Your age doesn’t matter. My age doesn’t matter. What matters is what’s inside. And I’ve never met any other woman as appealing as you where it matters—in her heart and her mind.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. He was confusing her by saying all the right things, things she would never have expected a man his age to say. He was mature beyond his years, and sexy, and fun. She was having a hard time remembering why she wanted to keep him at arm’s length. And everything he’d said rang true to her. She was attracted to his body, of course; what woman wouldn’t be? But she was equally, perhaps more so, attracted to his quick intelligence, his drive to solve problems, and his patient, thoughtful way of approaching those same problems.

If she let her guard down, and let him into her heart, what kind of a future could she expect? When she was thirty-five, pushing toward forty, he’d still be twenty-nine! Just the thought of that made her feel old. And she could imagine the embarrassment too, the teasing from others. No matter how much she might wish it were different, this wasn’t the kind of problem that would just go away. It would only get worse in time.

He cocked his head. “You’re thinking too hard. I can practically see the wheels turning. Can’t you just relax, live for now, enjoy what’s right in front of you, without trying to work out all your problems before they even happen?”

“I’m too . . . keyed up from everything that’s going on. I can’t relax.”

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Trust me.”

She closed her eyes.

The mattress shifted, and suddenly soft music pumped through her earphone. It was another slow song, no words, just magical music that had her thinking about walks on the beach, or floating in a shallow boat in the middle of a lake on a beautiful spring morning, with a gorgeous, grinning man with short, dark hair leaning over her. The face she saw in her mind’s eye was Matt’s.

She opened her eyes in frustration. He was sitting beside her, facing her, his eyes closed as he listened to the same music in his earphone.

The pleasure on his face was a palpable thing, and suddenly she was reaching for him. His eyes flew open the moment her hand brushed against the side of his face. He turned his cheek into her palm, the stubble on his jaw scraping her flesh, making goose bumps rise along her arms. His lips pressed against her skin, making her shiver.

She started to pull her hand away.

“Don’t,” he said.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t think. Live in the moment. Worry about the future later.” He tapped the computer screen again, then tossed the tablet on the other side of the bed. The music volume increased, and suddenly the world around them fell away, until all she could see, all she could focus on, was the rhythm of the music and the beautiful man bending over her.

He braced his knees on the mattress on either side of her hips, caging her in. But instead of kissing her as she expected, he feathered his hands across her brow. It was then that she realized she was frowning. He smoothed her brow, caressing her.

He kissed her eyes closed. When she opened them again, he grinned and shook his head. He kissed them closed again, and this time she kept them closed.

His hands moved to her shoulders, where he gently massaged in time to the music. He continued his ministrations, moving down her arms, skimming under her shirt, across her abdomen, barely touching the undersides of her breasts. She sucked in a breath, expecting him to go higher, but instead his fingers slid down her belly, lower, slipping under the waistband of her pants.

When he touched her, she nearly came up off the bed. Hot, fiery kisses moved across her belly as he stroked her in time to the music. He played her body like a fine instrument, his clever hands and mouth strumming across her sensitive nerves, teaching her the beat until she writhed against him in anticipation of his every touch.

But the rhythm was too slow. She grew more and more desperate between touches. She opened her eyes and reached for him, but he gently pressed her hands back on the bed and shook his head. He continued loving her like a master, kissing every inch of her skin in an agonizingly slow rhythm.

She’d never felt such intensity, such anticipation before. He was killing her with pleasure. Slowly. And then, finally, finally, his lips met hers. She tried to deepen the kiss, but he pulled back, making her groan and twist her hands in the sheets in frustration.

He kissed her again, and this time she let him lead in that same maddeningly slow pace to the beat of the music.

Then the music changed. A new song came on, and his rhythm changed along with it. Faster now, he moved over her, exploring her body with his tongue, stealing her breath, building the heat until she thought she would explode.

A rush of cool air told her what she hadn’t even realized—he’d taken off her clothes, all while he was touching her to the beat, and she hadn’t even known it. Lost without his heat against her, she looked down.

Her skin flushed hot as she realized he was putting on a condom. Her belly clenched with need as he rolled the condom into place, and she realized just how . . . beautiful . . . he was. He was all she could ever want in a lover, and so much more. She reached for him. He sucked in a breath, his eyes squeezing shut as she stroked him, once, twice, three times. He shuddered and removed her hand, his actions suddenly more urgent. He covered her with his body again and positioned himself between her thighs.

And then he edged inside her, giving her body time to adjust to his size. He pushed forward, stretching her, filling her, loving her again as the music swirled around them. Her body learned the rhythm, anticipated it, moved to meet his every thrust, perfectly matching her movements to his.

The music changed again, and so did he, faster, harder, until she thought she would die from pleasure. Suddenly it was too much. Her belly tightened and she clenched around him, moaning his name as she came undone. He deepened his strokes, thrusting into her, over and over, no longer caring about the music. She felt him tighten inside her and his mouth clamp down on hers in a searing kiss as his climax washed over him.

He kissed her again, this time a sleepy mating of their mouths and tongues in the aftermath of their urgency. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest as he rolled on his side, his body still locked with hers. She’d never felt so treasured, so cherished, so . . . safe as she felt at that very moment.

When their heartbeats slowed, he gently removed both their earphones and tossed them onto the other bed. He pulled the covers up, and this time when she fell asleep, the nightmares didn’t come.

Chapter Twelve

Day Six

A
RAY OF
early morning sunlight filtered through the crack in the curtains and splayed across the bed, turning Tessa’s long, red hair into a fiery mass of copper. Unable to resist the lure of those curls, Matt crouched down beside the bed and reverently threaded his fingers through the thick mass.

She was finally, exactly where he wanted her. In his bed. Naked. With all that glorious red hair spread out across the pillow, like a magical faerie put on this earth to tempt and tease mere mortals. He was still in awe that she’d let him hold her, love her. The pale shadows beneath her eyes were evidence of how little sleep she’d gotten. Having wanted her so fiercely, for so long, he’d been unable to leave her alone until exhaustion had claimed them both.

Even now, just touching her silky hair and breathing in her seductive, feminine scent, he was growing hard. He yearned to slide under the covers and make love to her again. But they were almost out of time. The ugliness of reality had caught up to them. He had to make that promised call to Casey, and Sheriff Latham would be expecting Matt and Tessa soon.

He pressed a soft kiss against her cheek. “Tessa, sweetheart, wake up.”

Her eyes flew open. She blinked at him, then gasped as she apparently realized she was naked. She shoved him back and grabbed the sheet, yanking it all the way up to her neck. She pushed her hair out of her face and offered him a glare.

“What?” she demanded, her voice still clogged with sleep.

Damn, the woman was adorable.

“I’m going downstairs to grab us something quick to eat. We have to meet with Latham in a little over an hour. If I leave, do you promise to get up and get ready, or do I need to pick you up and set you in the shower?”

Obviously embarrassed, she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I won’t fall back asleep, if that’s what you’re asking. Go on, get out of here.”

“Grumpy much in the mornings, sweetheart?”

She glared at him.

He laughed. “Any special requests for breakfast?”

“Don’t care. Something light . . . fruit maybe, and orange juice if they have it.”

“Fruit and orange juice it is.” He turned to leave.

“Wait, Matt?”

He paused at the doorway. “Hmm?”

“Did Austin text you yet about Madison and the baby?”

Her question, her concern for his family, surprised and pleased him. “Mother and daughter are doing fine.”

A relieved look crossed her face. “I’m glad. What’s the baby’s name?”

“If you ask Pierce, her name is Nicole. If you ask Madison, her name is Nikki.”

She gave him a sleepy smile. “I put my money on Madison winning that battle.”

“Me too. I’ll be right back.”

W
HEN THE DOOR
to the hotel suite closed, Tessa dropped the sheet and then dropped her head into her hands.

What had she done?

Or rather, what hadn’t she done? Last night, once she’d gotten over her initial hesitation, she’d freely given herself to him. Again and again. And then she’d turned equally aggressive, loving him as thoroughly as he’d loved her. And she’d enjoyed every single moment.

She pulled his pillow to her and hugged it against her chest, breathing deeply of the light, clean scent of aftershave that reminded her of the day she’d first seen him without his shirt, his golden skin glistening in the sunlight. Even now she longed for him to come back, to hold her close, to kiss her until she couldn’t think for wanting him.

If she could chalk her feelings up to lust, she would, gladly. Lust was temporary, fleeting. Lust could be worked out of her system. Then she could move on and forget. But even as she sat there and tried to pretend what she felt for him was purely physical, she knew she was suffering from a malady far more serious.

She was in like with Matt. Seriously in like. In like so much that all she could think about when she woke up was whether he was okay and whether his family was okay. Her first thoughts should have been about her job, her mission to find out who’d sent the letters, who was holding Tonya.