Lovers' Dance (13 page)

“Feisty, isn’t she?” Nathan couldn’t keep silent. Matt muttered something, most likely insulting, under his breath, then levelled Nathan with an arrogant stare.

“Isn’t she just?” Matt tried to control his temper as his friend chortled at him. He was a private man and her reaction to learning about his wealth had been over the top. He was planning on telling her, after they’d had sex. It wasn’t like he had hidden it from her. She’d seen his home. It was obvious he was wealthy. So why had she reacted as if he’d betrayed her? And the things she’d said…her angry words hurled at him as if he were an insignificant being. Who the hell did she think she was? Implying he was a racist in public. Creating a scene, then storming out of here like the wronged party. But an unwilling smile flittered across his lips. She was incandescent in her fury. His smile vanished as he remembered what she said: token black fuck. He didn’t see her like that, did he? Uncertainty filled him. She was unlike any woman he’d dated. Maybe the wrong impression, albeit unintentionally, had been given. Did she believe he saw her in such a manner? The door, visible from where they sat, was shoved open. She marched in, looked over to their table and glared viciously at him before stomping towards them. Matt’s chest tightened with an unrecognizable emotion. God. She was beautiful.

<><><>

I had walked about five minutes before the realization my stuff was in that asshole’s car hit me. Argh. My frigging house keys and Oyster card were in the bag. I had my wallet so I could purchase a travel card, but I needed my keys. Wait, Dante had a spare set, I could use those. The thought of Matthew Bradley having the keys to my place made me sick. He was a racist psycho. I toyed with the idea of smashing his car window to gain entry and retrieve my bag, but getting arrested for wilful property damage was not an appealing thought. Strengthening my nerves, I turned around and headed back for the pub. When I barged in, they were seated where I’d left them. Matt’s handsome face showed a flash of relief before settling into an emotionless mask. Only his eyes revealed something of what he was feeling. I wasn’t exactly sure on what it was.

“I need my stuff.” Said with enough venom to kill. Matt nodded and got to his feet, Nathan followed. We trooped out of the pub; well, I stomped, they sauntered, managing to keep up with my fast pace due to their long strides. Mutated English giants.

“Madi,” he said from my right.

I ignored him as we waited for the lights to change at the zebra crossing.

“At least show me some semblance of common courtesy by acknowledging my attempt to speak to you,” he said in that so very posh voice of his.

I raised incredulous eyes up, squinting against the sunshine while trying to glower at him.
Was he for real?

“For the record,” he continued pleasantly, “gazillionaire is not a word.”

I gave him the finger and took my chances with oncoming traffic. Standing next to him was intolerable.

“Madi!” he shouted as I sprinted across the busy road. The blare of horns unleashed was expected, it was Friday evening after all. Traffic was murder. When the lights changed, Matt raced across the road with Nathan on his heels. He caught up to me and grabbed me by the arms, shaking me vigorously.

“Are you insane? You could’ve been knocked over,” he yelled. He was shaking me so hard my teeth chattered.

“Better than standing next to you,” I managed to say while trying to escape his hold. “And why are you touching me? I said I would kick your mmph—”

My mouth was being ravished by an irate man. I kicked him in the shins, but he kept on kissing me and wrapped his arms around my body, effectively putting an end to my struggles. It was a good kiss. It was an amazing kiss. One which I fought to resist, but damn, the next thing I knew, I was kissing him back with equal ferocity while cursing in my head.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he said sternly once he let me up for air. I blinked slowly, lips throbbing, dazed as I observed his flushed face. He did look a bit scared and angry.

“Come on,” he ordered, slipping his large hand over mine and stalking off. My gait was practically a run to keep up with him. By the time we reached where the car was parked, I was breathless, or maybe it was simply because of his kiss. Damn, it was an exquisite kiss.

Holding my hand, he reached into his pants’ pocket and pulled out his keys.

“You drive a Rolls-Royce,” I said in disgust. It had escaped my notice previously. How? I wasn’t a car person. My beat-up old Beetle got me from A to B. One car was as good as the other, as long as it worked.

“Yes,” he replied, opening the passenger door. “Get in.”

“No. I want my stuff.”

Nathan, being relegated to the back seat, opened up his door and slid in without saying a word.

“I swear if you don’t get into this car I will—”

“You’ll what?” I interrupted his threat with a palm pushing against his chest. He didn’t move an inch.

Matt’s expression softened. It unnerved me. He leaned into me and said huskily, “I’ll kiss you again, but this time I won’t stop.”

The air caught in my throat. His lips hovered above my face and I could feel my nipples tightening from the close contact of his body. Why was I attracted to this asshole?

“This is kidnap,” I groused, getting into his show-offy car. Matt slammed the door shut and hurried over to the driver’s side. Nathan was smiling politely from the back. I eyed my bag next to him. Could I snatch it and jump out the car before Matt—too late. He was behind the wheel and buckling up.

“This is kidnap,” I repeated, swivelling in the seat to point at Nathan. “You’ll be charged as an accessory to the crime. It’ll make the headlines, and you’ll both do time. Gazillionaires don’t last long in prison.”

Nathan’s polite smile blossomed into a real one. “My family’s business is in media. I think we could manage to keep a lid on this, and you should know people like us don’t go to jail. We have well-paid solicitors to see to that.”

My belligerence deflated with a pop. He was right. People like them didn’t go to jail.

“Put your seatbelt on, poppet,” Matt said, with a tentative smile.

“You’re a racist pig,” I stated.

“I’m not, in fact. You’re the only one bringing up the issue,” Matt countered quickly.

“I would have told you about my background eventually, Madi.” He sighed in frustration. “It’s not something one blurts out. Look, let me drop Nathan off, then we can talk about this. Now, buckle up.”

My eyebrows shot up, then lowered nervously. Before Googling him, I’d thought he was lovely. My knight. The only thing that had changed was his obscene financial status. Oh, and the fact I now believed he wanted me as a perverse sort of racial experiment. “You won’t hurt me, will you?”

Matt’s jaw fell open, grey eyes wide with disbelief. “Don’t be ridiculous. I could never hurt you.”

I scrutinized his face until I was sure, then buckled up. The engine purred into life and we were off.

“Is there anything else you’ve failed to mention, Mr Bradley?” I asked with frigid hostility. I was in his car and, for some crazy reason, I trusted him not to hurt me, but I could still be bitchy. Heck, it was a woman’s right to be bitchy, especially if the situation called for it. And this one certainly did.

“Ah,” he began, hesitating for a moment. That pause made my mind go into a tailspin.

“Oh my God. You’re married, aren’t you? You disgusting, old man.”

Nathan was laughing softly in the backseat, obviously enjoying the argument.

Matt shot me a semi-scowl. “I am not married, and I am not old. Do you see a ring on my finger? Did you read anything about my marital status when you
Googled
me?”

He had a point there. The Internet hadn’t thrown up anything about him being happily married. It had listed some of his past partners, though. I stayed silent, confused at the sudden rush of jealousy coursing through me. There were pictures, pictures of his ex-girlfriends. None of them looked like me. Read between the lines.

“Why do you keep harping on about my age? I’m thirty-six, not ninety-six.”

“Thirty-seven next month,” Nathan volunteered from the back.

“For the love of God, shut up, Nathan,” Matt exploded. We all fell silent. It was a tense drive to Kensington. I snorted in disgust. Figures they would live in the same area. When Matt pulled up to a house almost as impressive as his, my earlier feelings of inferiority threatened to swamp me. I slumped lower in the seat.

“I must say,” Nathan said, with amusement ringing through his voice, “this afternoon has been quite an experience. It was truly a pleasure meeting you, Madison.”

He leaned forward and held his hand out to me. Good manners required me shaking it.

“I wish I could say the same,” I replied tonelessly, taking back my hand. Nathan tilted his head between Matt and me, a sober smile on his face. “I doubt we’ll be seeing each other again. Best of luck with your dance company. Matt, I’ll be seeing you soon. Cheerio.” He exited the car, whistling under his breath.

Matt let out a long sigh, then turned in his seat to face me. I stared at my folded hands in my lap.

“Madi, look at me.”

“I don’t want to, Matt.”

“Please,” he said quietly. It sounded like that ‘please’ hurt. A man like him probably didn’t say please often. He probably didn’t need to ask for things, just expected them.

I lifted my head slowly.

“I want you, poppet, and not for any underhanded, racially motivated reasons like you suspect. I want you the way a man wants a woman. I want more than anything to make love to you, but if you feel absolutely no desire for me”—his hands clenched the steering wheel— “I will drop you off wherever you wish and never see you again. If you do want me the same way I want you, then I’ll take you to my house and spend the rest of today memorizing every inch of you. The choice is yours. Whatever your decision, I will respect it.”

He kept his intense grey eyes on my face, searching for an indication of my feelings. I didn’t know what to think, to feel, to say. Before bumping into him on the Mall, I had managed to push him to the back of my mind. The memory of that night embarrassed me. We were different, too different. I mean, come on, this wasn’t going to have a fairy-tale ending. I was black, he was white. I was financially overstretched, while he was obscenely wealthy. He was ten years my senior, arrogant, and loads more experienced than me in every possible category I could think of. So why was I staring at his mouth and wishing things like race and wealth didn’t matter?

“Matt, I don’t—” I tried to get my words out, and that glimmer of hope and desire in his eyes faded. Matt turned his head away, staring out the windscreen with his jaw clenched tightly. He was such a great kisser though.

“Take me back to yours, please,” I said in a shaky voice, freaking out over my rash decision.

Matt’s head jerked around. He stared at me for a moment, started the car and put his foot down. I was amazed he didn’t get stopped, although I thought I saw the flash of a few speed cameras on our way to his home. I was trembling with nerves and anticipation when we pulled up in front his house. Matt hadn’t said a word. He came around to open my door, grabbed my hand, and got his briefcase and my bag out of the back before hurrying us up the few steps to his front door. His keys jangled as he impatiently opened up, then we were inside. He dropped our stuff and proceeded to tongue the life out of me. I pulled my wallet and cell out of my pocket and he tossed his phone somewhere behind us. He lifted me up against him so I could wrap my legs around his waist as we kissed passionately. I was running my fingers through his incredibly, soft hair, moaning into his mouth, while he effortlessly carried me through the house and up the stairs. He kicked his door open, heading straight for the bed when I pulled away gasping.

“Wait, Matt, I’m all sweaty. I—ahh.” My words stopped as he began kissing my neck, but I had been chased by a cop and, before that, had been dancing under the hot sun wearing a leotard, plus tutu. I needed a shower.

“Matt, please.” I gripped his hair and tugged.

“Poppet.” He groaned. “I can’t stop.”

“I’m sweaty. I want a shower first.” My voice could’ve been firmer, but he had resumed kissing my neck and it was distracting as hell.

“We’ll get sweaty again,” he breathed across my skin.

“I don’t care. I want a shower,” I insisted.

Matt growled, he
growled
at me, then strode to the ensuite with me in his arms. He didn’t wait for us to get undressed as we entered the shower enclosure. He turned on the shower, full blast, drenching us both. We still had our shoes on. Matt let me down and started tugging at my clothes. Off went my t-shirt, then my bra. I was struggling with the buttons of his wet shirt.
Fuck it.
He was rich enough to buy a new one. I ripped the shirt open. Matt leaned back, wet hair streaming down his face and grinned at me as he eased the torn shirt off.

“Bloody hell, woman.”

“Shut up,” I ordered, blushing at the harsh treatment endured by his shirt at my hands, as my favourite boots filled with water. Matt leaned down to kiss me, his fingers fumbling with the button on my pants. The water was cascading over us, flowing into our open-mouth kiss. It was freaking hot.