Page 6 of Lovers' Dance

He hadn’t expected her to burst into tears. Storm out maybe, tell him to fuck off maybe, but not those tears rolling down her cheeks that she valiantly tried to wipe away. What the fuck was he doing? The poor woman had been attacked tonight and here he was cruelly heaping scorn upon her. He was a bastard.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, ignoring the voice at the back of his mind saying Matthew Bradley doesn’t apologize and striding over to her side. “Forget what I said. It doesn’t matter if you are, Madi. I’m sorry. Stop crying, poppet.”

My nose was running, my face hurt and I was crying. All because he didn’t believe me. Jesus.I was a mess.Matt was awkwardly patting my shoulder as I sniffled like a wimp.

“I am,” I mumbled defensively. “And if you hadn’t saved me, my first time could’ve been in that disgusting alley with those two psychos.” Then came more waterworks. Matt put his arms around me and I buried my face in his sweater, crying. For God’s sake. I was crying. Again. Matt kept murmuring words of comfort as he ran his hands up and down my back, until I gained control of myself and my sobs had died down into little whimpers that were changing into something else. He smelt nice and I felt strangely safe with the man who’d rescued me from a certain horrible fate. He had saved me. And he was holding me close. And there seemed to be invisible sparkles wherever he touched me.

“You have it,” I said quietly, raising my head up to peer at him. “You can have it.”

“Pardon?” His grey eyes were opened wide and his eyebrows had shot up as high as physically possible.

“I want you to take my virginity,” I said. Matt’s arms dropped from around me and he stepped back, shaking his head vehemently. His hair was damp from his shower. It looked silky, and I wondered if it would feel the way it looked when dry.

“You can have it. I mean, better you than those guys.” I licked my lips nervously. “And you saved me so it’s like a reward. I’m a twenty-six-year-old virgin. I mean, this is the twenty-first century. How lame am I? You can have it, Matt. I want you to have it.”

Matt looked appalled. In my emotional state, I thought he looked disgusted and I had a pretty good idea why.

“It’s because I’m black, isn’t it? You don’t like black girls. You wouldn’t have sex with a nigger.”

“Shut up,” he exploded, and I jumped at the harshness of his voice. “Don’t ever say that word. You don’t know anything about me. And I am not going to take advantage of a woman who is obviously suffering from shock. Black or white. Or any other colour under the fucking sun. Are you insane?”

His skin had gone from pale to a furious sort of red, and he was towering above me like some sort of belligerent demon that had been wronged. I think he was right. It must be shock. Why else would I offer myself to someone I didn’t know? Christ almighty.Had I done that?But why not? Better to give it away willingly than have it taken, right? And it could’ve been taken away tonight. So easily. What was I waiting for? For Dante to realize I was the one for him, not his current main squeeze? For an imagined Prince Charming to come and sweep me off my feet? For my black knight to ride in and profess his undying love? Well, I was twenty-six and it hadn’t happened yet. And, in his own way, Matt was kind of a knight…he had saved me.

“It won’t be taking advantage,” I said softly, taking a step towards him and tilting my head up to stare into his handsome face. I fisted my hands in his sweater and tugged. Matt grabbed my hands, gently trying to dislodge them.

“Listen, poppet,” he said. “You’re not thinking clearly. It’s obvious you’re upset over what happened to you. I’m going to take you to the hospital, just in case that bump on your head is more serious than it looks. Okay?”

I nodded and he smiled in relief at me. Then I went on tiptoe and kissed him.

Matt froze, unsure how to handle the distraught young woman pressing her unbelievably soft lips against his. She didn’t kiss like a virgin. This was a sexual coercion case waiting to rain down on him. God, her mouth was soft, practically begging to be kissed as she tried her best to get him to respond. His body was already responding. He could feel that tingling pressure building in his groin as she gripped his sweater.

She had been right in a way. He’d never consider having sex with a black woman, not that he didn’t find them attractive. Matt enjoyed the beauty of all women, but openly sleeping with someone not from his own social standing and race; it wasn’t something someone like him did. God. Her lips were luscious. He was unable to move. He, the outrageous seducer was being seduced by this mere slip of a woman and he didn’t know what the hell to do.

She ran her tongue over his compressed lips and a soft moan began in the back of his throat. Then he was kissing her back with unrestrained passion as his hands encircled her tiny waist, sliding over her arse. And he wanted more. Now it was him taking over the kiss, his tongue pushing insistently against hers as her hands uncurled from their tight grip on his sweater to splay over his chest. Matt groaned at the feel of her hands on him. But he wanted more than that little touch. He could feel her sudden hesitation at the intensity of his kiss and that helped pull him back from the urge to take her right there in the hallway. He pushed her away.

“Bollocks,” he rasped, running a shaking hand through his hair. “I did not mean to do that. It—you—” For the first time in his adult life, Matt was incapable of constructing a coherent sentence.

My mouth was tingling from Matt’s kiss. Oh my freaking word. He could kiss. I’d never been kissed like that. Ever. My heart was going like a jackhammer in my chest. My blood pounded through my veins. I could feel my nipples tightening from looking at his lips. He had sexy lips. Matt’s gaze was flickering between my lips and my obviously hard nipples. His eyes darkened as his tongue swept over his lower lip. Sensuous.

What the hell was I doing?I didn’t care. I wanted him to kiss me like that again. A crazy ache was building inside me. Crazy enough to make me move towards him while he stood as still as a statue and watched me from stormy eyes.

“Madi,” he said, desperate and hoarse. “This is wrong and we’re not doing it. I understand you’re feeling a misguided sort of gratitude towards me for—”

“It’s not misguided,” I interrupted. I was close enough to touch him. So I did. I ran my hand over his chest, and his eyelids slipped closed for a second before they popped open and he grabbed my hand.

“It is. Listen to me.” He sounded angry, but his grip on my hand had relaxed into a sort of slow caress. Stroking lightly over my wrist. “You’re not thinking straight and I know you’re still in shock over what happened. You don’t know what you’re doing—”

“Don’t you want me?” I asked. The realization that I was throwing myself at a white man, who most likely had a girlfriend and didn’t mix with people a darker shade than Caucasian tan, made my stomach drop to the floor. I yanked my hand away mortified at my behaviour.

Matt exhaled loudly, which sounded like exasperation to my ears, and his gaze fell on me. “Of course, I want you, poppet. I want you so much right now my balls are ready to burst. But you don’t know me and your reaction is only in response to what those sods did to you. You had a major fright tonight and you wanting to sleep with me is simply an illogical aftereffect of the emotional roller coaster you’ve been on. Fuck’s sake. I’m a decade older than you.”

“You swear in the poshest British voice I’ve ever heard,” I replied. He had nice ears. Nice ears were a plus. And nice hands, strong hands that felt good on my hips. That ache was coming back, spreading from the core of me until I felt my whole body aching, and not from the battering I had taken earlier.

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