Page 212 of Lovers' Dance

“Are you glad to be back?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Not still scared?” he asked, leaning down to tease my lips with a kiss.

“I’ll reserve judgement on that once I’ve introduced you to my family,” I replied with a wink, then wrapped my arms around his neck and claimed his lips as my own.

“Right,” he said softly, eyes darkening to a shade that made my insides quiver. “Are you going to give me the tour? It never ceases to amaze me the building materials used for houses over here. I’m used to brick and mortar, wooden houses feel—”

“You’d better stop right there, Matt,” I warned with a grin. “Auntie Cleo might have installed listening devices throughout the house. It would explain how she always knew when we were getting up to mischief as kids. Come on, I’ll give you the tour with a bathroom stop in between.”

Holding his hand, I led him throughout the house on a tour. There was the required toilet stop so, in total, it took twenty five minutes. It had taken him almost an hour to give me a tour of his home in Surrey the night I met his family.

“It’s a lovely home, poppet,” Matt repeated once we ended up in the kitchen, Aunt Cleo’s pride and joy. It was an open plan with the dining space and bright. I stood in the middle of the space and exhaled. I loved this kitchen. There was unprepared food set out. We would go to church on a Sunday and, upon returning, Aunt Cleo and I would be in the kitchen starting on lunch. Sometimes we didn’t change out of our church clothes. Even after I had moved out into my apartment, my Sundays were spent here. I immediately pushed up the sleeves of my ribbed sweater and started prepping for lunch under Matt’s amused gaze.

“You have a thing with cooking, don’t you?” he mused, coming up behind me.

I leaned back into his frame, enjoying the comforting warmth emanating from his body. “It was right here I learnt to cook. I remember having this painted Tinker Bell stool when I was little, and I would pull it up to the counter and watch Auntie Cleo as she cooked. Jamal would be outside with Uncle David, and Jenny would be watching cartoons in the sitting room. It was just me and Auntie Cleo. She would let me help and, she used to say that when you cook for your family, you must do it with love. That way you would literally be feeding them love.” I blushed, glad he was behind me and couldn’t see my face. “Corny, right?”

“Not at all,” Matt replied, slipping his arms around my waist in a relaxed hold. “I think it’s sweet. Do you need a hand with anything?”

“Nope,” I said. “I could do with space to move about freely though. As much as I love your hugs, it makes it hard to cook.”

Matt bent his head over my shoulder, nestling his face in the crook of my neck and inhaled deeply. His fingers were busy in an attempt to undo the buttons on my jeans.

“Matt—”

“Mhmm,” he murmured.

“What are you doing?” I asked the obvious. The top button was undone, followed by the second.

“If you don’t know what I’m intending on doing by now, poppet, I’ll have to show you.” Matt nibbled my earlobe and a shiver of desire ran through me. We hadn’t made love Saturday night. By the time we’d driven back from Dante’s, it was late and we’d crashed in Matt’s bed as soon as our heads had hit the pillows.

“Umm, Matt, we can’t.” I tried to wriggle away, but that elicited a low groan from his lips. He stopped undoing my buttons and grabbed my hips, holding me flush against his hardening body.

“Do that again, poppet,” he said huskily.

I chuckled, standing completely still. “Unhand me at once. I need to start on lunch,” I commanded.

“What time are they expected back?” he asked instead.

“Around eleven.”

“Mmm, plenty of time.” Matt resumed nuzzling behind my ear. His hold on my hips hadn’t let up one bit.

“Matt.” I injected as much firmness in my voice as humanly possible. “We can’t. I—”

“And why not? We’re alone, and I need to taste you, poppet.” His hands left my hips to attack my buttons again.

I turned to look at him, face set with haughty disapproval. “In my aunt’s kitchen? Not going to happen, Matt.”

“The couch in the front room looks comfy,” he suggested wickedly.

I shook my head and the beginnings of a frown started at the corner of his lips.

“One of the bedrooms upstairs?” he asked, eyebrows lowering in frustration at another shake of my head. Matt straightened up, and I tilted my head to hold his gaze. “What exactly are you saying to me? Because it sounds like you’re unwilling to let me make love to you.”

I grinned at the put out expression on his features. I don’t think Matt ever had to deal with someone turning down his advances.

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