Page 230 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

That cleared me a path and a volley of understanding nods from Portia and Hannah. I added an extra few centimetres on my stride to flee the lot of them quicker. I hit the end of the first hallway and took the corner without a backward glance. I really did need the loo and it was easier to use one of the downstairs toilets than traipse upstairs.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, drawing to a sudden stop at the far end of the other hallway. “What has he done to my studio?”

It wasgone.My beautiful studio was gone! In its place was yucky furniture, and an ugly rug. It was the Persian rug which had been carefully stored in one of the guest rooms upstairs. Matt had once told me it was from Central Persia, something about intricate patterns, whatever…he had gutted my studio. I wasn’t crying, at least not on the outside. Inside I was wailing like a banshee and curled into the foetal position. How could he demolish my studio? The lovely mirrored walls I used to watch myself dance in, the barre I lovingly stroked each time I entered the space…the floor, well, something remained, albeit the yucky furniture had probably scratched and dented the wood. I should have never agreed to come here. How could he? My studio was gone, erased from sight…like I had been.

Swallowing the mix of anger and sadness down, I strengthened my resolve and went to relieve my bladder. By the time I walked out the bathroom my mind was almost on an even keel, and with forced tranquillity, I made my way down the hallways. One should learn from past mistakes in order to avoid them becoming future mistakes, I would try not to make the same mistakes again.

Matt was impatiently pacing as he waited for me in the firsthallway. He hurried over once he spotted me gliding towards him.

“This is a right mess,” he said, sheepish yet irritated. “Would you like me to ask them all to leave? I’ll do it if you want me to.”

I kept walking, following Matt’s stride.

“They want to apologize,” Matt continued. “Make amends. That’s quite admirable of them. They really aren’t to be blamed for any of this.”

I noted his contradictory behaviour: one moment threatening to kick his family out, the next defending them. Family, you couldn’t stop loving them even if they were dicks.

“Are you hungry?” he asked as he placed one hand on my lower back and started to guide me along. “Valerie has prepared a selection of birds, I know you’re not overly fond of duck or quail,” He sent me a cute sidelong grin. “Or pheasant-”

“Why are you touching me?” I had stopped to ask.

His hand immediately fell away as he explained. “Force of habit.”

“You got rid of my studio.” I hadn’t been intending to raise the issue but damn, it hurt seeing the studio gone. “I know I don’t live here anymore, and of course, you’re going to get rid of it because you’re not going to need a dance studio,” I peered up at him. “But it was a present from you to me and I really loved my studio.” I felt the lump building in my throat.

Matt observed me, not saying a word, and I felt bad for even bringing it up now. It was his bloody house.

“Forget I said anything,” I resumed walking. “And the pheasant is fine.”

Matt grabbed my hand, pulling me to a stop and saying, “I thought you had cheated on me, poppet,” He scowled for a second. “And I know you don’t like me calling you that but,”

“Force of habit.” I understood, it was similar to the touching thing. Heck, the memory of clutching his arm earlier reminded me I was guilty of it too.

“I was angry,” he continued. “I was so bloody angry and I didn’t want any reminders of you around.” Matt laced his fingers through mine and I didn’t resist. “Do you hate me?”

I shook my head, then nodded. “A bit.”

Matt managed a smile. “I hated you too.”

“Not enough to stop protecting me though,” I squeezed his fingers. “With Kincaid, with Christine. Why did you do that? Was it only toavoid the bad press of being associated with me?”

“No.” he said and didn’t elaborate any further.

I was getting lost in his grey eyes, the hallway seemed to have disappeared and it was hard to ignore the heat of his fingers interlaced with mine. I had always loved his hands. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Maybe I should say something? God. Matt looked his usual fine self in work clothes. He smelt delicious too, I needed to stop breathing so deeply before I got hooked again. There was no stubble on his face, I was thankful for his smooth, clean-shaven jawline. His stubble was my kryptonite. Oh crap…horny. I was horny as hell and standing next to my ex-husband made me hornier. Matt’s gaze was fixated on my lips, I belatedly realized my tongue was already leaving a moist path over them. Damn, I was salivating as if in heat.

Matt tugged on my hand. “Poppet,”

Why did he have to use that low, husky voice? Fuck it. I would hate myself tomorrow for making this mistake.

“Mmph,” His smothered grunt was caused by me smashing my mouth into his and it didn’t take more than a few seconds before we were snogging like crazy against the wall.

“So horny,” I groaned against his lips.

Matt started kissing the corner of my mouth before trailing over my cheek as he sank a hand into my curls. “You have no idea,”

“Mmm,” I murmured, then squeaked when he licked my neck. “No one wants to sleep with a pregnant lady,” My hands were wildly running up and down the front of his shirt. Bloody clothes. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Understood. We’re both horny,” Matt was nibbling on my ear while his fingers were making short work of the buttons on my jeans. “It’s been so long, poppet.”

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