“God, you’re more beautiful than I imagined.” Bending his head, he cupped her br**sts, kissing the swell of one, then the other.
Angela let her head fall back. She wouldn’t think, she told herself. Not about Denver or Virginia City. Not about the past or the future. She’d only feel—the feverish excitement building inside them; his deft hands unhooking her bra and sliding around to touch her; his warm, wet mouth closing over the tip of one breast; his muscular body pressing her into the mattress.
MATT COULDN’T BELIEVE he’d brought Angela into his old bedroom right in the middle of his parents’ Christmas party. He’d meant to kiss her, to catch a tantalizing glimpse of her body, to touch her briefly. But the situation was quickly spiraling out of control. And he couldn’t stop it for fear she’d never let him have another chance. His craving was too great. He had to feel her body’s quivering responses, acquaint himself with all the little things that made her moan and writhe and cry out.
He hoped to make this as memorable as possible for her, but he didn’t dare take it slow. There wasn’t time. He didn’t want to embarrass her by being gone so long someone would come looking for them. And the way she was tugging impatiently at his clothes told him she was as frantic as he was.
Once they were undressed, he pulled her down on the bed with him and pinned her arms over her head while he rolled on the condom he kept in his wallet.
She watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, her lips wet and slightly parted. But the gentle kiss he meant to give her quickly turned savage. Soon he was driving into her with powerful, rapid strokes. Minutes later, they were both damp with sweat and gasping for breath. And just when he thought he was too far gone to hold back any longer, it happened. She groaned, met his gaze as if he’d given her the most wonderful gift in the world, and shuddered.
He was only half a second behind her.
STEPHANIE LAY ON THE rumpled bed of the cheap hotel room staring bleary-eyed at the television. She could smell urine and perspiration, but it didn’t bother her. She squinted, trying to decide if she was actually watching a program. It didn’t matter. The flicker itself was fascinating, especially when her mind was floating so freely around the room. Spinning, moving, gliding…
“Hey, get up, bitch.”
Slowly, she turned her head and blinked. A man’s fuzzy shape appeared. Jaydog? “Hey, Jaydog,” she said, the syllables running together.
She tried to make her gaping mouth form a smile, but he didn’t seem happy with her greeting. A sharp pain suddenly dimmed her euphoria. Had he kicked her?
He was still kicking her. And screaming. He wanted her to do something. He wanted her to get out.
Climbing to her feet, she swayed unsteadily as she walked, heading for an opening that was blinding in its brightness. That had to be the door. She misjudged the distance and ran into a corner, causing an additional glancing blow to her shoulder. But then she was outside and the door slammed behind her.
She didn’t know how long she stood there before she noticed that she wasn’t wearing any clothes.
HE’D MADE A MISTAKE. Matt realized that almost right away. He’d expected his encounter with Angela to bring them closer, to put an end to her cautious reserve.
But after they rejoined the party, she left his side as quickly as she could. He found his gaze trailing after her wherever she went, hoping for a smile or some reassurance that what they’d done was okay—but he got nothing. She wouldn’t even look at him. And if there was any accidental contact, she’d recoil.
What was going on? What they’d shared had been a great deal more than he’d expected. Especially so early in their relationship. But she was leaving in a week. It wasn’t as if they had months or years stretching out before them. Even if they maintained a relationship, they wouldn’t get to see each other very often. Besides, maybe he’d initiated the contact, but her surprising response had been the match that ignited the powder keg. The encounter had been completely spontaneous. Real. Raw.
He couldn’t regret it.
Yet she was even less open to him now than she’d been before.
What had he done wrong? He supposed he shouldn’t have taken things so far. But he hadn’t planned for it to happen—not here, anyway.
He wasn’t sure when he should’ve stopped. Angela had never indicated that she’d wanted him to. She’d acted as if she’d been starved for human touch, love.
He’d wanted to give her both.
He took a seat across the room from her and her daughter as his mother started handing out presents. Angela and Kayla sat with polite smiles fixed on their faces—outsiders looking in, enjoying everyone else’s gifts and excitement without hoping for anything themselves.
He glanced over, but Angela avoided meeting his eyes. Again.
Maybe she’d been so hurt in the past that she was scared to let down her guard, he decided. She must’ve had a lonely childhood, after losing both parents and then living like a guest in someone else’s house.
Then there was Stephanie. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what dealing with her on a daily basis must’ve been like. Even as an adult Angela seemed to live a pretty solitary life—just her and Kayla. They were both engaging and polite, and he sensed that they wanted closer relationships than they had but didn’t know how to reach out because they had no trust.
He remembered Kayla’s story about her father. So he walked out, and left my mom to raise me by herself. We don’t even know where he is.
The bastard had caused some deep scars.
“Are you going to open it?”
Matt blinked and focused on his sister-in-law, who’d just shoved a present into his lap.
“Sure,” he said, and unwrapped a bottle of his favorite cologne.
“This is great. I was getting low.” He gave her a hug, then waited for the process to continue around the circle until it was Angela’s and Kayla’s turn.
His uncle, who was sitting next to him, received a basket of salami and cheese. Matt’s father acted excited over a new hand drill.
At first, Grandma had tried to boycott the gift exchange because his mother had put a ban on the special eggnog Matt usually provided. But then she relented, opened his brother’s gift, which was a box of chocolate-covered cherries and, with a spiteful glare for his mother, stuffed three in her mouth at once.
“Wow. You go, Grandma,” Ray said, sitting taller for Matt’s benefit. “I guess I’m your new favorite grandson, huh?”