Page 62 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

Could I be a good wife?

A slight increase of pressure on my thigh from Matt’s hand had me tearing my gaze from his ring to his eyes. It seemed he’d been watching me too.

“Smile for me.” he ordered softly.

I did and he leaned over to kiss the tip of my nose.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Did we do the right thing?” I asked, needing reassurance, like a chicken shit punk. The hell was wrong with me? It was done, I had to live with this now.

“Am I a man that makes mistakes, Mrs Bradley?” Matt queried without a trace of teasing. He massaged my leg through the material of my jeans.

“Everyone makes mistakes, Matt.” I replied. “And it’s Mrs DuMont-Bradley.”

“True,” he agreed as his hand inched higher. “But we haven’t.”

“How can you be so certain?” I pressed.

Matt sighed before sending a pointed look to the front of the car. “We’ll discuss this at home, poppet.”

Oh, yeah. Dan was in earshot, even though he was focused on the road.

“Ok,” I turned my face towards the window. Matt sighed again, the soft sound held so many unspoken words. I rested my hand over his, lacing my fingers through his own.

“Trust me, poppet,” Matt murmured. “Trust us.”

I continued to stare out the window. My husband really didn’t give a fuck about anyone who might disagree with our whirlwind relationship and wedding. If only I could talk to my Aunt. Her no-nonsense advice about marriage would be welcomed.

Traffic wasn’t too bad getting into London, considering it was late afternoon on a Monday. The almost two hour long drive it took to arrive at Matt’s - our home, gave me time to think. Thinking had its ups and downs.

“What in the bloody hell-” Matt’s words trailed off as we neared the house.

“What?” I asked, peering at him then out his window as he was doing. “What is it, Matt?”

He sat back against the upholstery and exhaled loudly with closed eyes. I tapped his leg impatiently.

“What?” If he didn’t answer me in five seconds I would…make a mess in his closet. Matt was anal about the walk-in closet being immaculate.

“Adam’s car.”

“What about Adam’s car?” I nudged him again.

“It’s parked back there,” Matt groused. “Right in front of Nathan’s.”

I spun around, trying to see out the back window. I didn’t know what type of car Adam drove but I did spot Nathan’s.

“And Hannah’s is there also.” Matt finished emptily. He gave me a look. “It seems we have guests, poppet.”

“Did you tell them we were returning today?” I asked, feeling his frustration. All I wanted was a nice long soak in the tub, preferably in Matt’s arms.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Matt replied with self-recrimination. He looked out the window again as Dan parked up behind my Cayenne. “Bollocks. I recognize a few other cars.”

Chewing the insides of my cheeks, I unbuckled the seat belt and leaned closer to Matt. His intoxicating scent filled my nostrils. What was it? Not his cologne for sure, but something else. It was just him, and it always made my stomach do flip-flops.

“Bugger.” Matt mumbled, eliciting a tiny chuckle from me. He so rarely said that word and when he did, in that posh voice of his, well, it made me laugh.

“I find nothing amusing about this, poppet,” he reprimanded as he undid his seatbelt. “It’s quite obvious someone has planned a welcome home party for us, a party that I certainly don’t want to endure, a party in our home, a party that-”

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