Page 5 of Lovers' Dance

“I meant tea or coffee.” Matt huffed and eyed the level in his whiskey bottle. I reached for the bottle, but he snatched it away before my fingers could close around it. “Let’s put this away for now.”

I drained the last few drops in the glass, then hopped onto one of the stools on my side of the counter while he put his depleted whiskey away. I flopped over, resting my head on the cool granite worktop and sighed loudly. “Those guys would’ve hurt me badly.”

“What was that, poppet?” Matt asked absent-mindedly, then froze in the act of closing the cupboard door.Did he call her poppet? What the fuck was wrong with him tonight?He turned around, hoping she hadn’t heard his slip of tongue, to see her slumped over the counter resting her towel-wrapped head on her arms. She’d rolled the sleeves of his shirt up and, again, he marvelled at her petite frame. An unexpected feeling of protectiveness swamped him and he glided over to where she sat. She raised her head, brown eyes glassy with unshed tears as she watched him.

“I said those guys would’ve hurt me,” I whispered tightly. “If you hadn’t come along when you did, they would’ve really hurt me.” My head dropped back to my arms, and I couldn’t repress the shudder that wracked my shoulders. The barest of touches smoothed over my left shoulder.

“But I did come along,” Matt said firmly, “and they didn’t hurt you. Much.”

I nodded in my arms and he squeezed my shoulder lightly as he continued. “Plus, you gave that sod a great punch. My eye still hurts from the couple you landed.”

I jerked upright, mortified. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He waved away my apologies and looked at the digital clock on the coffee machine. “It’s getting late and I have an early morning.”

I felt bad. Here I was moping in this stranger’s kitchen, keeping him awake while he probably couldn’t wait to get rid of me. He was probably nervous about having a black person in his fancy home. Probably wondering if I was going to steal something. A lot of white people believed all those ridiculous stereotypes.

“I can get a taxi,” I offered quickly, sliding off the stool.

“Don’t be silly,” he admonished, looking stern. “Where do you live?”

“Greenwich.”

Matt tried to hide a wince but I caught it. “It’s fine, Matt. If you don’t mind calling me a cab, I can be out of your hair before you know it.”

“I’m not letting you take a taxi at this time in the morning, especially when you’re wearing a shirt without a bra under it.”

My face got hot and I thanked the Lord my skin tone didn’t give away my blush. Matt’s gaze dropped for a split second and my face got hotter. His eyes jerked back to my face immediately. He looked embarrassed, I felt embarrassed. Why had I worn that stupid dress tonight? It couldn’t be worn with a bra. Plus, I wasn’t overly big in that department anyway. Damn it. If I had told Alexi “no” to clubbing tonight, none of this would’ve happened.

There was an awkward pause and Matt moved away, putting a good bit of distance between us. He probably thought I was a slut: “slag” is the term they use here. He probably thought I was one of those girls who went out partying mid-week, getting drunk and screwing around with randoms. He probably thought what most white guys think about black girls: that we are promiscuous and loud and ghetto. All those stupid stereotypes that made it hard for a woman of colour to get anywhere in this world.

“I’m a virgin,” I blurted, then smacked a hand over my horrified mouth.What the hell was wrong with me?

Matt blinked a few times, then avoided my gaze like his life depended on it.

“Umm, sure, Madi. I’ll—let me get you proper clothes that fit.” He turned on his heels, practically running from the room. I chased after him, angry over the flash of disbelief I’d seen on his face.

“Hey,” I yelled to his fleeing back down the hallway. “I am a fucking virgin.”

That brought him to a standstill, and he turned with a sceptical eyebrow raised in my direction.

“Listen, we’ve both had an eventful night. You don’t need—”

“You don’t believe me,” I said in outrage. Why on earth was I talking my personal business with this stranger? I must’ve really gotten my head damaged in that alley. Or maybe it was the whiskey I’d thrown back like an alcoholic.

Matt folded his arms and frowned at me. “It doesn’t matter what I believe, Madi. I barely know you and this is not the type of discussion I want to be having right now.”

The stupid man didn’t believe me. I don’t know why I cared anyway. Except I didn’t want him thinking what had happened tonight had been my fault somehow.

Matt saw her crestfallen expression, saw the confusion on her face and that unexpected urge to protect her fluttered through him. It irritated him that this unknown woman was making him feel so…so goddamned uncomfortable in his own house. He felt himself slip back into his usual aloofness, that superior coldness he showed to almost everyone who knew him.

“Twenty-six-year-old virgin,” he mocked. “And the queen’s my grandmother.”

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