Page 143 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

I began kissing his chest.

“Ah, next weekend?”

My head snapped up. What was happening next weekend? Please, please, not another family dinner.

“Dinner at seven, right. We’ll be there.”

I bit my tongue to halt the groan. Matt shrugged, mouthing ‘what do you expect?’

“No, I donotwant to speak to Dad now. I’m sure I’ll see him tomorrow at work, so much for his retirement. Look, it’s Sunday afternoon and I’ve been on the go all week. If you want to chat, call Hannah-”

I smacked his shoulder lightly. There was no need for him to be so curt with his mom, granted I was ducking my crazy ass mother-in-law; but Matt should be nicer.

“I don’t know, Mum – cherrio.” Matt hung up and tossed my cell to the opposite end of the sofa. He bent his head to kiss my forehead. “Mum said she’ll pop around to see you on Tuesday. Best of luck with that.”

“She keeps calling me Matt,” I groused, resting my cheek flat on his warm skin. I inhaled deeply. He always smelt divine. “I’ve been screening her calls,”

Matt let out a mocking gasp. “The nerve of you, screening my darling Mum.”

“Shut up. You do it all the time.” I slowly rubbed my cheek against his chest. “And I am so not into that group of hers. They say they’re feminists, but it’s the feminism that only serves white women. The problems they face don’t always affect women of colour the same way, in fact, a lot of the times whenever it’s pointed out you get the usual spiel about being divisive and to stop making it about race-”

“Then maybe youshouldaccept their invitation to join and educate them on this issue.” he interrupted, a touch sharply might I add. Yep. He still didn’t like these discussions. I lowered my eyes, disappointed, maybe even saddened by his obvious discomfort. Matt suddenly kissed my forehead. “I meant that in a good way, poppet.”

I smiled and leaned up for a proper kiss. Maybe kiss-ageddon was making me over-sensitive. I snuggled against my hubby for the next five minutes then Matt shuffled about, grabbed me around the waist and slid out from beneath me. Oh, maybe not. I sat up as he stretched his arms above his head, giving me a great view of those firm abs of his. The jogging bottoms rode low on his hips, and hot damn, my man was sex on legs.

“I’m supposed to be meeting up with Nathan,” he advised, running a hand through his unkempt black locks.

He was going out? Sunday afternoons were one of the few times we actually got to chill out together. I jumped to my feet and tugged the t-shirt down to cover my panties.

“I’ll come,” I offered quickly. So what if I had to share him with Nathan, as long as I could spend time with-

“I highly doubt you’ll enjoy trekking across the golf course,” Matt said dryly. “I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

“It’s not a problem, Matt, I don’t mind coming.” I hoped he didn’tpick up on the pleading note in my voice. Being clingy was not an attractive trait.

Matt brushed my suggestion aside with a wave of hand. “Nathan’s in need of some male company, allegedly Bella’s been driving him around the bend. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

I forced a smile to my lips as he winked at me before sauntering out the entertainment room. This sucked ass. To anyone looking in my life was perfect. Amazing career, married to a great man, good friends and family…everything seemed perfect. Yet I wasn’t happy, and I was beginning to think neither was Matt. He was once more the man from the early days of our relationship. Aloof, guarded, so very hard to read. I missed being able to know what he felt by assessing the nuances of his face. This really sucked ass. It felt like one of those clichéd romance novel where the female character got her man but then had to go through a lot of unnecessary shit to pad the storyline up before her real happily ever after came to pass. I wanted my happily ever after now! We should be living it right now. I mean, don’t get me wrong, marriage was hard work. If it was smooth sailingeveryone would be doing it. But why did it feel as if this was as good as it got for us? I shuddered, envisioning our marriage going the same route as Matt’s parents. They were weird together and I suspected either Portia or William was engaged in extra-marital affairs. Hell, maybe the both of them. No one ever pointed it out though. Once I’d tried to ask Matt about them and he shut the conversation down with a speed that left my head spinning.

My in-laws were nothing like my aunt and uncle. A tiny smile graced my lips. Aunt Cleo and Uncle David, they acted similar to love-struck teenagers whenever they thought us kids weren’t paying attention. The secret glances, fleeting touches, yeah the flame of their love burned brightly after all these years. Of course, there had been times where they couldn’t stand each other. I distinctly remembered a time when the living room sofa masqueraded as a bed for Uncle David for a few months when I was about 16. And Aunt Cleo’s sharp tongue was never at rest, sometimes I wondered why Uncle David put up with her. He loved her though, we all did. My smile widened into a foolish grin. The relationship between myself and my aunt was the best it had ever been. I no longer dreaded her calls, well, sometimes I did but that was understandable. Cleo Meyers was still a force to be reckoned with, mellowing out after herbrush with death. The expected shudder ran through me at the memory of my aunt lying in that hospital bed. Matt had been so supportive during those horrible days. I sighed, walking over to grab the remote to turn off the tv.

“Mean asshole.” I muttered angrily.

He was punishing me and I didn’t know how much more I could take. His smiles never reached his beautiful eyes anymore. The only time there was complete ease between us occurred when we made love, only then did he look at me with an unguarded gaze.

“Stupid. Mean. Gazillionaire.” I snatched my cell up. “It was just a damned kiss.”

George’s head popped around the open door. “Mrs Bradley, I’m supposed to remind you to plan the new schedule of classes-”

“Done it.” I quipped, worried he’d heard my previous exclamation.

“Did you also create a new spreadsheet-”

“Yep,” I cut him off with a smug grin. “I’m on top of things, Georgie Porgie.”

An annoyed flush crept up his cheeks. Not my problem, I told him the rules last week; unless he started calling me Madi he’d be subjected to these nicknames. Georgie Porgie was my tenth attempt at breaking the starchy old butler.

“Yes,” He fumed. “It seems so, and I’m not your personal assistant.”

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