Hard Choices (27 page)

I was trying to remain calm, trying to understand how it could have looked from his viewpoint. But Matthew’s tone of voice, and the way he was looking at me, the anger coming off him in waves – all over a misunderstanding. He was refusing to believe me and he owed me better than that.

              “That’s not the kind of hug two ‘friends’ usually share, Lyssa,” he said coldly.

I was so shocked, I could barely speak. “What are you accusing me of?  I didn’t lie to you. I didn’t cheat on you. I met a friend for a beer. That’s it. And this conversation is
over.
” I stormed off to my car with him calling my name behind me.

I slammed the car door and zoomed out of the parking lot, only remembering to put on my seat belt before I pulled out onto the main road.

***

Matthew had been heading into the deli to grab some dinner when he happened to glance up and see Lyssa coming out of the bar, followed closely by a young guy – a very young guy – whom he initially figured would be followed by her son or daughter. Maybe the “old friend” was a friend of one of her kid’s? He was debating whether or not it would be appropriate to go over and say hello when they moved into each other’s arms. Matthew was so shocked, he stopped dead-still in the middle of the parking lot.

Disbelief, pain and anger washed over Matthew in succession. This guy had to be in his mid-twenties, tops, and there he was, holding Lyssa like a lover.

Before he’d even realized he was moving, he was confronting Lyssa. Then it felt like he blinked and was suddenly watching her drive off in her car.

Why had he said that?! Lyssa had never lied to him. She was not the cheating type. She wasn’t Amanda. Now he was in his car, trying not to drive like a bat out of hell, following Lyssa back to her house.

He tried to take deep breaths in the car. He was in the wrong here. She obviously didn’t do anything. She didn’t seem upset to see him; quite the contrary. Would a guilty person have been able to fake that? Probably not. And Lyssa, definitely not. He knew her well-enough to know
that
.

But not well enough to know that guy she was with. Why hadn’t she told him the truth? They’d obviously been intimate.

Matthew parked in front of Lyssa’s house and took another deep breath before getting out of the car. He ran up the walk and heard himself pound on the door, and winced. He was already feeling like an ass; pounding on the door like that was just icing on the dickhead cake.
Keep it together, Bowen,
he told himself.
Don’t make it worse!

***

I was so furious, I was shaking. I drove to my house, pulled into my garage, and slammed the door. Becca who was still home on Christmas break, was relaxing on the rec room couch, reading her Kindle and sipping some tea.

“Mom? Are you staying here toni –  “ she bolted upright when I slammed the door. “Mom, are you OK?”

I shook my head, afraid if I opened my mouth I’d burst into tears. I kicked off my boots and ran up the stairs with Becca right on my heels.

“Mom? MOM! What is going – ” she was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking insistently on the front door.

“Lyssa? Lyssa! Can I just talk to you?” Matthew had followed me home, and I hadn’t even noticed. “Lyssa! Please!”

Becca looked at me, confused and alarmed. “Do you want me to call the police?” she whispered.

“No! No,” I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Becca, I’ll explain everything to you later, but no, do not call the police. That’s Matthew.” I sighed and walked toward the front door.

“Matthew?” Becca sounded even more confused.

I walked to the front door, and steeled myself just before I threw the bolt and opened it. Matthew looked so distraught, I almost – almost – forgave him immediately.

“Are you here to apologize?” I said tartly. “Because I am only interested in having a conversation that starts with you saying ‘I’m sorry’.”

Matthew exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath. “I’m sorry. I was way out of line.”

“Yes, you were.” I stepped back and allowed Matthew to come in, not wanting the neighbors to get even more of a show.

“Um,” Becca said uncertainly, “I’m going to go back downstairs – “ I shook my head at her. “I’m going to go… out for a bit?” she looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. “OK, I’m going out for a bit. I’ll… I’ll be back.” Becca scooped up her purse and keys, grabbed her coat, slid into her boots and headed out the front door.

“Lyssa – ” I held up my hand before he could say another word.

“Matthew, I was meeting a friend for a beer. He worked at the firm last summer.”

His eyes flashed angry again. “Look, I
am
sorry about how I spoke to you. I really am. I just,” he shook his head in disbelief, “I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing! That… that… KID was all over you in the parking lot! What the
fuck
, Lyssa?”

“He wasn’t ‘all over me’!” I all but sputtered. “Jesus
Christ
, Matthew! He’s a friend! We were saying goodbye! You’re acting like I was groping him and shoving my tongue down his throat!”

“That looked pretty intimate for a ‘friend,’ Lyssa,” he said coldly.

“FINE! Former lover. Old boyfriend. Booty call. FORMER booty call. HAPPY NOW?!” I was shouting now.

“How former?” he asked pointedly.

“You BASTARD!” Now I was really pissed. “That is NONE of your business! It ended long before you and I began seeing each other. That’s all you need to know! You have been all I could think about since then. I am totally in love with you,” I said, still angry and shouting. “I never felt
anything
like that for him, and I would
never
be unfaithful to you! That’s not who I am! Happy now?!”

Suddenly he had me pressed up against the wall, my arms pinned. He stared into my eyes.

For a moment, I was so shocked, I couldn’t even react. I started to push back against him, but then I looked – really looked – into his eyes. He looked… relieved. I was still trying to process the whole conversation, through my haze of anger and confusion, but I realized he was intensely relieved that I hadn’t slept with Aaron. That I hadn’t betrayed him.

“No, I’m not happy,” he growled at me, in response to my smart-ass comment. His voice was thick and husky. He was so close I could smell the cinnamon-musk of his soap. Something about Matthew’s scent always smelled like strength and fortitude and experience. And I wanted him.

The length of his body was pressed against mine now. I pressed my hips up against his erection.

“Do you want to make me happy?” he whispered against my mouth.

“Yes,” I said breathlessly.

“Then let me kiss you.”

I did.

I was surprised by the frenzied, heated kiss. He’d always kissed me gently before. Now he released my arms and cupped my face in his hands, pushing his hands up the back of my head, curling his fists in my hair. I moaned. He tightened his fist, pulling my hair a little. I moaned again. He pulled, gently, so that my head went back and exposed my throat to him. He kissed his way down my neck, across my shoulder, pulling my sweater down. I heard it tear while he was still pinning me against the wall with his body. I didn’t care.

Suddenly, he had my belt undone and quickly yanked my pants and panties down. I kicked them off, expecting him to strip his clothes off, too. Instead he cupped my ass lifted my up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, expecting him to carry me to the couch or the bedroom. But he didn’t. He pushed me back against the wall, and ground against me. He stopped trying to kiss me as I gasped against his mouth. He’d managed to pinpoint my clit, and ground against it, again and again and again. I felt myself getting so close… so close… finally, I threw my head back and screamed; my whole body went rigid as I came. I heard myself growl from deep inside, a part that I didn’t even know I had. Finally, it was too much. I put my palms against his shoulders and pushed. He eased off a little, but kept a firm grip on my ass.

But I was spent. I went boneless as the aftershocks of my orgasm coursed through my body. He gripped me more firmly, one arm around my waist, and I collapsed into his arms. Shifting my weight so he had a better grip, he carried me to the couch.

He lowered himself onto the couch with me still wrapped around him, so that I was sitting in his lap facing him. I rested my head on his shoulder, and didn’t want to move.

I started to get up, but Matthew tightened his arms around me. “Where do you think you’re going?” I suddenly realized he still had a hard-on. A
huge
hard-on. I reached for his jeans and he put his weight onto his feet and lifted his ass off the couch, so I could yank his pants down.

I left his jeans around his ankles and hooked my fingers into the waistband of his boxers. I slowly, slowly inched them down, enjoying the view all the way. Is there anything sexier than the top of a man’s hipbone at the bottom of a six-pack? I sighed with desire, and eased the boxers over the tip of his dick. Then I leaned over and circled the tip with my tongue. With all the times we’d made love in the weeks we’d been together, I hadn’t given him this yet.

He moaned and slid one hand into my hair; the other hand slid down my sweater, into my bra, and rolled my nipple between his fingers. No one had ever done that to me before Matthew. It was always like an electric shock through my body. Minutes earlier, I had felt completely spent; now I was ready for another round. He still had his weight on his feet, so I yanked his boxers down, keeping my mouth on his cock, and took all of him into my mouth.

He eased back down onto the couch and I grabbed his hips with my hands. Now it was my turn to set the rhythm. I glanced up once and was gratified to see his head thrown back, his eyes closed, and a look of total abandon on his face.

I pulled off and he looked up, confused. I yanked off my sweater and climbed on top of him.

I eased myself down one inch, then back up, down two inches, then back up. Suddenly he grabbed my bra and yanked it over my head. He leaned forward and barely, just barely, gripped my nipple in his teeth. That did me in.

I pushed him back, and slammed myself down onto his full length. I cried out and didn’t move for a good five seconds, just felt the length of him in me, shuddering with the sensation.

Then I put my hands on his shoulders, slid my feet up onto the couch to give myself some leverage, and rode him hard and fast. He gripped my hips and matched my rhythm. I moved up and down on top of him, feeling the length of him fill me up, until my legs turned to jelly.

I collapsed against him, laughing but not embarrassed. “That’s it. I’m spent. I’m done,” I said breathlessly.

“I’m not,” he said in my ear. I could tell that. He was still a thick pulsing shaft inside of me. I wanted more, too.

He pushed forward and sat on the very edge of the couch. With his hand on my lower back, bracing me and staying inside me, he lowered me onto the floor beneath him, bracing himself with his other arm as he came down on top of me.

“Lyssa,” he whispered, and leaned down to kiss me. He kissed me gently again, probing me softly with his tongue, and started moving his hips again, gently, deeply, slowly. He kissed me and moved inside me, and I felt it building in me again.

I slid my arms up under his, around his back, and pulled his chest to mine, wrapping my legs around his hips and holding our kiss as he moved inside me. He started moving faster, but just a bit, still going deeply and completely filling me up with each stroke. I felt the dam break, and I moaned against his mouth, shuddering over every inch of my body. I heard his breath catch and felt his body tighten as he reached his climax, too. He pressed his cheek to mine, and he whispered my name in my ear, just my name, “Lyssa.” I clung to him and we moved together as the waves rolled over us.

Finally, he collapsed on top of me. I didn’t want him to move. I didn’t want to break the spell. I kept my arms wrapped around him as I felt tears in the corners of my eyes.

“I must be crushing you,” he said softly, sweetly. He rolled off of me, but pulled me to him and kissed my shoulder. “I’m cold now,” he chuckled. He looked around the room, “Ah, there we go! That’s handy,” he said, pulling a blanket off the arm of the couch and tucking it around both of us.

We drifted off to sleep, only waking when we heard the garage door open. We looked at each other, realizing that Becca must be back, and our clothes were strewn all over the floor. Giggling, we hastily gathered up the evidence, and both of us bolted down the hallway to my bedroom.

But I knew I wouldn’t get off that easy. I found a piece of paper and a pen in my room and scrawled a note to Becca.

B,

We’re fine. Matthew is spending the night. Talk in the morning.

Love,

Mom

I threw on an old robe – all my nice clothes were at Matthew’s – and quickly darted down the hall and put the note on Becca’s pillow.

I locked my bedroom door and stripped off my ugly robe. Matthew was already lying in bed, flat on his back, his head resting on his hands, elbows out. He looked like a statue of Adonis.