Staking His Claim

The studio audience inside Lucy’s head erupted in a series of boos and hisses. Even the host shook his head sadly, letting the microphone drop to his thigh.

She had the sudden urge to take off her high heels and hurl them at Matt, screaming obscenities and cursing him to a lifetime of blue balls. Instead, she kept her smile firmly in place and did her honest best to ignore him. Not an easy accomplishment when he stood there looking so climbable. Where did he get off filling out a black T-shirt and jeans like that? As if a tailor had sewn them onto him, leaving just the right amount of room to accommodate the cut muscles of his arms, chest, and legs, even better than his uniform normally did. She had a sudden memory of running her hands up those sculpted pecs, how they’d flexed beneath her fingers. How much he’d liked it.

Maurice. Focus on Maurice. Don’t think about the way Matt is looking at you. That mixture of lost and hungry. It did funny things to her senses.

Yesterday, while she’d been silently willing him to grab on to her with both hands and never let go, he’d balked, trampling all over her feelings like a stampeding herd of buffalo. Holding her hand one second, sending her packing the next. If he’d come here to offer her some consolation prize in the form of half-assed explanations, he could keep them. She wasn’t interested.

The alternative, that he’d come here for sex, was painful to consider. But maybe her assumption that they were more had been just that. An assumption. What other conclusion could she draw when he touched her at every available opportunity, but refused to say the words?

A part of her, the destructive side she’d worked so hard to tame over the years, wanted to take this game he was playing with her heart and flip it on its arrogant head. Would it make her feel better to give him a taste of that bitter medicine? Perhaps not. But at this point, she couldn’t think of any other option apart from listening to his explanation, and caving in to whatever he asked of her, be it a strictly physical relationship or understanding. She didn’t want to understand. Didn’t have the capacity for it at the moment when her heart felt so damn heavy.

She could, however, take charge of the situation and end this game between them on her own terms. One last time to feed the attraction. She could handle that. One last time to show him what he’d be missing when she voluntarily walked away, with her pride intact.

Lucy ignored the little voice in her head that told her it was a bad idea. She’d once been an expert at ignoring that voice and tapped into that girl now. Being someone else for the moment helped mask the hurt.

The song ended and she stepped back from Maurice, whose eyes shifted between her and Matt with interest. Matt still stood there watching her, like an immovable brick wall. “You still want to have that talk?”

Surprise crossed his features before he hid it. “Yes. I would.”

She nodded, then turned back to Maurice, kissing him on both cheeks. “It has been a distinct pleasure, my dear.”

“You come back next week.” He patted her shoulder. “I’ll bring my grandson.”

“She won’t be here next week,” Matt said.

“I won’t? Why is that?”

He frowned. “You’re going to Paris.”

“I am?” She skirted past him, doing her best to hide the satisfaction rippling through her. “That’s news to me.”

A second later, he caught up with her. Her heart clenched a little when he took her hand, but it was only to lead her in the opposite direction. “My car is in the garage. We’ll go somewhere and talk.” A beat passed. “You’re going to Paris.”

Lucy blinked away the stupid moisture that sprung to her eyes. “God, one minute you won’t leave me alone, the next you can’t wait to get rid of me. I hereby declare you the champion of mixed signals.”

“Why would you pass that up?”

She didn’t answer his question. They entered the garage and she was grateful for the dimness. She needed to be cool, in control, and she couldn’t do that if her eyes were shining. She knew he was waiting for her to answer his question as they walked deeper into the underground parking structure, but she refused. His car came into sight and an alarm signal went off in her head. She couldn’t get into that car with him. If they went somewhere, if they talked, it would be harder to walk away from him afterward. As she’d known he would, he walked to the passenger side to open the door for her.

Before he could reach it, she let her body slide against his, biting her lip to keep from moaning. Why did his body have to hit her in all the right spots? Taking a deep breath, she gave in to her earlier fantasy of running his hands over his chest. “Why don’t you stop pretending you want to talk?”

His eyes were dark, throat working as she touched him, but her words made him do a double take. “What does that mean?”

Lucy lightly dragged her nails down his chest and abdomen, watching him shudder. When her hands started working his belt buckle, he groaned and fit their mouths together. He pulled back after only one kiss, even though she could tell it cost him. “What are you doing, baby? This isn’t why I came to get you.”

She unzipped his jeans and reached inside to stroke his heavy erection. “Liar.”

Matt braced his hands on the roof of his car. “Fuck. You’re going to have to stop this. I don’t know how to stop when it comes to you.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Ah, God.” Matt’s eyes squeezed shut. “Please. I can do better than a parking garage.”

The raw agony in his voice, his words, heightened her own need, even as they brought on a surge of affection that had no place here. She wanted to push him past his breaking point. Couldn’t wait to see it. Her thumb brushed over the head of his arousal.

“Maybe you’re scared to find out how deep I can take your—”

“Enough.” With a growl, he opened the back door and pushed her down onto the seat. Rough hands yanked down the top of her dress, exposing her br**sts. His cheeks were flushed red, teeth scraping over his bottom lip. He looked torn for only a moment before he slapped one of her br**sts, just enough to sting, enough to draw a whimper from her throat. His fingers gripped her chin and tipped it up. “You’ll watch your mouth when you speak to me.”

“Yes, Matt.” When he released her chin, she leaned forward and ran her tongue up the underside of his erection. His knees bumped the seat as he moaned. “Do you like that?”

“Fuck yes, I like it.” He encircled the base of his arousal in one hand, guiding it to her already-parting mouth. “More. Now.”

It had been a while since Lucy did this and never with a man Matt’s size. She forced herself to relax and focus on what his body told her. What he responded to. Soon, she became lost in her own enjoyment. His taste. The strangled sounds she ripped from his throat. The way her scalp tingled as he pulled her hair, gently moving her fast, then slow, then fast again.

“You like the way I taste, baby?” His hips rocked forward. “No, you goddamn love it.”

Lucy hummed in her throat, locking her fingers around his girth, stroking him off in time with her mouth. She heard his breathing begin to grow choppy. The fingers in her hair grew punishing, telling he was close to reaching his peak. He tried to draw her away with frantic hands, but Lucy didn’t want to stop.