Page 48 of Lovers' Dance

“Oh God, Matt, I don’t think I could survive being sick again.”

He sent me a chiding grin. “You won’t be, poppet. It’s safe to assume there is absolutely nothing left in your stomach at this point. Our bags have been loaded in the car. Do you think you can make it off the jet on your own or do I have to carry you?”

He was teasing me.Unbelievable. I squinted at him. “Making fun of a sick person is cruel.”

“It was a mild case of food poisoning Madi, not the Ebola virus.”

My squint turned into a full-blown glower and he motioned to the glass in my hand. I begrudgingly took another sip.

“I can walk.” The barely drunk glass of water went on the table and I uncurled myself from the seat. With a final look around the spacious aircraft—who knew the next time I would travel in style—I took Matt’s outstretched hand and we disembarked. His ostentatious Rolls Royce was parked yards away.

“How come your driver isn’t here?” I asked as he opened the door for me.

“I had given him the week off and we’re back earlier than expected. It would be churlish of me to demand he pick us up.”

“What’s the real reason?” I asked as soon as he closed his door. His bullshit answer was just that, bullshit. People did what Matt wanted, when he wanted. No questions asked.

Matt look affronted for a second, then his face split into a grin. “I wanted to take you home myself and finish our holiday. We’re both free tomorrow.”

“I’m too sick, Matt.”

“You’re much better now, and I’ll take care of you all day tomorrow.”

I smiled at the amusing image of Matt pottering around my terrace at my full disposal. Nice.

Matt was tapping a finger against the steering wheel, giving me a pointed look.

“What?”

“Seatbelt,” he scolded. “How can you always forget to buckle up upon entering a car, poppet? You drive, you should know better. I’ve noticed on more than one occasion you driving up at your home without it on.”

I mumbled under my breath about certain people being bossy and Matt sighed in exasperation.

“It’s road safety and the law.” He continued to berate me, and I blurted out my secret to shut him up.

“It’s my game of chicken.”

“Pardon? Your what?” He was staring at me as if I was from the loony house. “Explain yourself, young lady.”

Young lady?I was twenty-six.

“Okay, old dude.” That earned me a clenching of his jaw. “You know I told you my parents were killed in a car crash.”

He nodded and I continued. “I guess it’s my way of testing death. It’s stupid I know, but I should have died in that car crash too and in some perverse way I—I don’t know—maybe a part of me wishes I had. When it happened…all I remember is that seatbelt over me. I couldn’t—it wouldn’t release and I wanted to get to them—I kept telling them to wake up, but they didn’t and I couldn’t—it’s my game of chicken.”

There was something lodged in my throat. It tasted like repressed emotions to me. I took a ragged breath and twisted in the seat to get the belt. Matt leaned over, startling me by his sudden movement, and grabbed the belt. I sat still as he pulled it across my body and securely fastened it. Then he kissed me hard.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, poppet but, if I ever catch you not wearing your seatbelt, I’ll make you regret it.” His voice was blunt. I nodded in the wake of his threat. He kissed me, much gentler this time around.

“I’ve never told anyone that,” I muttered after our kiss, embarrassed and feeling vulnerable. Matt would think I was a freak with a death wish. A crazy-ass black woman.

“I’m glad you confided in me,” Matt said as he buckled up. “But I meant what I said, Madi. Don’t do that again.”

The atmosphere in the car was tense and, in an effort to lighten it, I said with forced humour, “It’s not like you’ll know anyway, not unless you install a camera in my car and spy on me every time I get behind the wheel.”

Matt regarded me coolly, his left eyebrow arched with a touch of defiance. “I will if it’s necessary, and I truly hope it isn’t, poppet.”

My mouth fell open. Matt started the car, reaching over with his left hand to caress my knee for a moment, then grabbed the gear stick and drove off. We didn’t speak much on the way to Greenwich. It was with a heavy heart I picked up on Matt’s pensiveness. Feelings of doubt and insecurity swamped me. This was not good. I had fallen for him. Pathetic, I know, but it seemed like I couldn’t help myself. It had gotten to the point where I dreamt he’d told me he loved me.How ridiculous was that?I consoled myself with the fact it was understandable and inevitable. He was my first. Everyone had deep feelings for their first. The problem with that was Matt’s view on our ‘relationship’. It didn’t take a genius to know exactly what I was to him. Not a token black fuck—we’d spent enough time with each other for my original fears concerning that issue to be laid to rest. My position was more akin to being his piece of ass on tap. Maybe his latest fetish. Shit. There were loads of white men who preferred black women simply to satisfy their messed up desire to own a black pussy. I shook my head. Matt wasn’t that sort of man. At least, he didn’t give the impression of being that sort of man. We hadn’t discussed the race situation much. Neither the money issue. It made me uncomfortable, and he seemed to want to avoid dwelling on it also. We were almost near my street and, with those unhappy thoughts trickling through my mind, I wanted to go to sleep and not think.

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