Flying Read online

  “Starving, actually.” She put a hand on her stomach, which was jumping with nerves as well as hunger.

  He smiled. “I can make something. Nothing fancy. Spaghetti? Garlic bread?”

  Oh, exactly the right thing for an intimate interlude. She laughed, wondering again if she’d misjudged him. “Sure. Sounds great. What can I do to help?”

  “Salad in the fridge, if you want to put that together.”

  They moved together expertly, stepping out of each other’s way as he puttered with the pot of water and she rinsed the lettuce and cut the tomatoes to add to a large stoneware crock he handed her from the cupboard. He poured her a glass of wine she wasn’t sure she wanted after two iced teas and an equal number of Manhattans, but she took it anyway and sipped. It was good, even to someone who didn’t usually like wine.

  They ate together from mismatched plates and flatware at an antique-looking table in the small dining room. Matthew kept her glass filled. His too. He twirled a fork of spaghetti and held it out for her. Later, when Stella did the same for him with a bite of the cheesecake he’d pulled from the freezer to thaw during dinner, he circled her wrists with his fingers and held her hand steady while he bit the dessert.

  He didn’t let go.

  If he kissed her, she thought, she would slide herself onto his lap and straddle him. She’d taste wine and garlic and cheesecake on his tongue and it would be delicious. She would rock her cunt against his cock and urge his hands to grip her ass and hold her closer.

  If he kissed her.

  He let go of her wrist, but not her gaze. His tongue touched the center of his bottom lip for a second. He blinked, blinked again, something faltering in his gaze. He’d snagged her with it before, but now he was letting her go.

  “Stella...”

  She never gave them her real name, and this was one of the reasons why. When she was someone else, it didn’t matter what they said or did, all those men who didn’t know her. It didn’t matter who they thought she was. Maria, Lavinia, Suzanne, Amy, Lisa, Karen, Debbie.

  “Shhh.” She shook her head, willing him not to say anything else. She didn’t want to hear him tell her this had been a mistake, that she should go, or worse, that she could stay anyway. “Matthew. Shh.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, brow furrowed against some small pain. When he opened them she saw desire, but also something else. Guilt, she thought. Anxiety of some kind. It alarmed her enough to push back a little, the legs of her chair squeaking on the tile floor.

  “I want to kiss you so much right now,” Matthew said in a low, rough voice on the edge of breaking. He blinked rapidly and licked his bottom lip again. “I just...want...so much...”

  This she understood. This she knew. Stella drew in a breath, mind racing even as her heart thumped faster. “So kiss me, Matthew.”

  He gave his head the smallest shake, not quite a denial. More as though he’d found himself not unwilling, but incapable. His fingers gripped the edge of the table. Stella got up carefully, making sure not to scrape the chair on the floor any more than she had done. Now he had to tip his head to look up at her, though he didn’t otherwise move. She took a step back, then another. Matthew stayed motionless except for the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

  “I’ll get a cab,” Stella said quietly. “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious. It was nice...meeting you, Matthew.”

  The words felt stale and sour, certainly not sincere, but this was awkward enough without her trying to escape without at least an attempt at civility.

  In the hallway, she let her hands shake as she tugged her still-damp coat from the hanger and lifted her bag. She screamed when she straightened and closed the closet door to find Matthew directly on the other side. He looked as startled as she was, and he caught one of her flailing arms to keep her from knocking into the mirror hung on the wall next to the closet.

  Babbling words rose to her lips, a string of some senseless apologies on a stutter of breath. The adrenaline rush of fear pushed her heartbeat into an even faster, unsteady rhythm. Made her light-headed and spinny, her feet slipping a little on the wet floor.

  “You scared me.” She put a hand on her heart, fingers slightly curled, and gave a self-conscious laugh.

  “I’m sorry.” He ran a hand over his head, his hair too short to rumple, though she got the idea that maybe he was used to wearing it longer, that he was accustomed to pushing it out of his eyes. “I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re not.” She pressed her palm against her chest for another moment before touching his arm. “Really.”

  They both looked down at the touch of her fingertips on his bare skin. He was warmer than she’d expected, or maybe it was because she was so suddenly chilled. Her nipples tightened, and she was sure he could see them. The crisp, curling dark hairs on his skin tickled her knuckles. She wanted to let go, she knew she should let go, but as Matthew stepped closer and pulled her into his arms, all Stella could do was hold him tighter.

  “I want to kiss you,” he murmured with his mouth all at once so close to hers that every word he spoke sent a shivery breath across her lips. “I just...”

  Stella didn’t waste more time with words. She moved against him so there’d be nothing for him to do but let his mouth press hers. It was as sweet as it was strange, that first kiss. It lasted a few seconds before he broke it, eyes closed, not moving more than a breath away. She didn’t have time to count even a heartbeat before he was kissing her again, harder this time, but not rough. Her mouth opened as her hands slid up and over his firm chest to link behind his neck.

  He tasted as good as she’d imagined, maybe better because she’d been so sure she wouldn’t find out. He backed her up a step, then another, his mouth never leaving hers. The wall pressed against her back, Matthew’s body a delicious counterpressure at her front.

  Whatever had stopped him before had gone away. His hands moved over her breasts, belly, hips. One centered on her lower back as the other cupped the back of her neck. His tongue stroked hers.

  This kiss ended with them both panting, breathless. He stared into her eyes, and she was close enough now to see the green ripples in his irises and the thick black fringe of his lashes. He licked his mouth again as he tilted his head to angle his mouth toward hers, but he stopped just before kissing her again.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I want to.”

  She never wondered what the men thought when she went with them to their hotel rooms or to shadowy corners. She never cared. She wasn’t interested in knowing them any more than she assumed they wanted to know about her. Already she’d spent more time learning Matthew than she had any man since... Well, since Craig. And all of that in the past few hours.

  Matthew’s thumb stroked her jawline. The hand at the small of her back pressed her against the thickness in his groin. He brushed his mouth along her cheek to nuzzle at her ear, his breath hot. His shoulders lifted and fell with a sigh before he mouthed her neck. Her head tipped back at the wet slide of his tongue on her skin, then the nip of his teeth along her collarbone.

  “Yes,” she breathed, and gave herself up to each small pleasure. “Like that.”

  Desire had become the one true constant in her life, the only feeling she could count on never to disappoint her. Desire required nothing from her. No investment. No responsibility. All desire wanted was to be sated. It was physical, and therefore, could be killed.

  She pushed his hand between her legs, the denim an inconvenient and unaccustomed barrier. Still, when his knuckles rubbed at the seam of her jeans, it pressed her clit so sweetly she bit her lip with the pleasure. His mouth returned to hers, the kiss teasing and taunting her until all she could do was open her mouth and let him take it however he wanted.

  Matthew worked her button free, then the zipper. He slid his fingers into her pa