“Yes?” She glanced over her computer.
“I read the full manuscript I requested, and I’m interested in representing the author.”
“Great. I’d like to take a look at it, if you don’t mind. We can discuss it.”
“Of course.”
“And you’re good to go this weekend,” Pam added.
“Excuse me?”
“You needed Friday off?”
“Uh, no.”
“Well, you’ve got Friday off. Matthew called. Something about a trip.”
Heat spread across my face. My fists tightened.
“Oh, right … the trip. I forgot. Thank you, Ms. Wing.”
*
I returned to the condo later than usual, around seven.
Matt hovered by the door.
As soon as I let myself in, he tugged me into his arms.
“Missed you,” he whispered. I stiffened in his hold, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I made dinner. Mexican…” He padded over to the kitchen table and gestured to a plate of taquitos. I grimaced. As usual, he’d made the whole box—all twenty-four—and half of the rolls looked suspiciously dark. He saw me eyeing them.
“I did this half in the oven. Then I did this half in the microwave, since—”
“I’m not hungry.” I plopped my purse on the counter.
Normally, Matt’s pitiful cooking attempts melted my heart, but not tonight.
“Oh.” He shifted the plate. “Well, they got cold anyway.”
“And you really need to stop making the whole box. Make, like … half.”
“Oh. Yeah…” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his shoulders sink.
“It’s too many.” I slapped the counter. “It’s a waste. We can never eat them all, and then they sit in the fridge getting stale, okay? I feel like that’s common sense.”
“You’re right. I…” He began to pile taquitos in his palm, as if he could somehow salvage them. He paced across the kitchen, frowned, and then returned the rolls to the plate.
“And you need to stop going over my head at the agency,” I snapped.
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb.” I whirled toward him. “You called Pam and got me Friday off with your stupid M. Pierce influence and I am tired of you Sky men trampling over my life and clearing my fucking work calendar like I’m a child who can’t—”
Matt snagged my wrist. With one terse tug, he reeled me into his arms.
This time, I crumpled against him.
“I’m sorry.” His soft voice thrummed through me. I listened to his heart and smelled his clean, strong body. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Oh…”
“Hannah, I want you to meet my family, too. Properly.”
I hid my face against Matt’s chest. I had definitely not met Matt’s aunt and uncle properly at his phony memorial.
“And I thought we could fly east a day early. I want to show you some things.”
“What things?” I peeked up at his smooth jaw.
“Surprises, little bird.”
Simply standing in the circle of Matt’s arms eased away the rough edges of my day. I let myself forget about Chrissy and Seth … and Katie. Anyway, I didn’t plan to ask Matt about the things Katie had said—not until I heard more and determined how much I believed.
I kissed his throat. He sighed and I trailed the tip of my tongue up his neck.
“Hannah…”
“I missed you today.” Through the fabric of his shirt, I brushed a thumb across his nipple. He responded impulsively, his groin pressing my belly.
“Babe.” He cupped my face. “Are you okay? Lately you…”
My poor sweet Matt. He struggled, and failed, to articulate my crazy mood swings.
“I’m fine now.” I raked a hand down his spine and slid it into the back of his shorts, my nails teasing over his ass. A tense moan sounded in his throat.
“Mm, I just”—he got a handful of my backside—“don’t want to repeat last night.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean me jerking off at my desk.” He laughed reluctantly and I giggled.
“Is that what you did? I’m sorry, baby.” Except I wasn’t too sorry. I loved driving Matt to touch himself; it was ridiculously hot.
“Not your fault. I got too worked up.”
“Yeah? Are you getting too worked up now?” I stepped closer to Matt, crushing my chest to his, and reached between his legs from behind. I palmed his balls and he growled.
“Fuck, yeah.” His head rolled back. He rubbed the sides of my breasts.
“Do you always watch porn … when you do it alone?”
“Sometimes,” he said—no hesitation. “Not always.”
I massaged him gently and watched his neck cord and relax with pleasure, his chest rising and falling slowly. I eased back enough to let him play with my breasts, which seemed to please him. I moaned as he squeezed them.
“Want to feel those against your wet cunt,” he panted. “My balls.”
Unf … the dirty talk. My toes curled on the hardwood.
“Do you wanna … maybe … watch porn with me?” I gasped as soon as I said it. Where did that come from?
Matt was right; in some ways, I didn’t know him. But I wanted to know him—his habits, his likes and dislikes. I wanted to know all of him.
His head sank and his eyes floated open. He smiled thinly, head cocked.
“Hell, yes…”
Chapter 8
MATT
I pulled off my T-shirt and dropped it by the door. Hannah slid her hand out of my basketball shorts, her hot little touch leaving my balls. God damn …
The girl had a way of distracting me.
Tonight, distracting me from dinner, and some vague plan to sit down with her and talk about Chrissy’s pregnancy. It troubled Hannah deeply, and a little more than seemed reasonable.
I eased my dick out of my shorts.
“Oh,” she whispered.
She always stared. It always surprised her.
Heavy-lidded satisfaction uncoiled inside me.
“Was getting uncomfortable.” I took her hand and led her to the office, collected my MacBook Pro, and tugged her toward the bedroom.
“I really don’t watch much of this stuff…” I pushed off my shorts and sat on the bed, booting up the laptop. Hannah was curiously quiet, as if she’d exhausted all her courage for the night. “You sure you want to?”