Page 101 of Second Chance

41

I’ll Never Feel How I Feel With You Again.

[Denton]

I’m exhausted by the time I finally make my way to Conrad Lodge. A night away from the farmhouse is long overdue. I’ve just removed my dress shirt and T-shirt when a knock on my hotel door stops me from unbuckling my belt. I didn’t order room service, so I have no idea who it could be.

“Mati?”

“May I come in?” she asks, lowering her eyes. Mine roam over her attire. A camel colored trench coat hangs open to reveal she still wears the black wrap dress she wore to the funeral. The dress hugs her curves in all the right places, and I hadn’t missed her shapely legs above high heels. She looks sexy despite the dreary purpose of the clothing. I wave her into the room.

Closing the door, I turn to see her immediately remove her coat, and the curve of her backside draws my attention. Her dress clings to her, rounding over her shapely hips but dipping inward at her waist. Her long, lion-colored locks hang to the middle of her back, and she twists to look at me over her shoulder. The pose is photograph worthy, and I want to capture an image of her like this forever. I also want to ravish her. My dick twitches as I inhale a deep breath. Ravishing cannot be her purpose.

“Want something to drink?” I offer, returning to the glass already half filled with scotch on the nightstand by the bed.

“Nah,” she scoffs. I twist in a way to plop myself on the bed, propping myself up against the headboard and crossing my ankles. I notice Mati has already taken a seat on a gold upholstered chair kitty-corner to me. Sipping the sharp alcohol, I watch her over the rim of my glass. She smooths down the skirt of her dress. Then she straightens up, and her fingers tug at the thin tie at the side of her waist. She’s fidgety as she asks, “How are you doing?”

“Never been better,” I lash out. I’m exhausted. I’ve hugged and kissed too many strangers. I had the strangest conversation with her son. And I’ve spent the day staring at her, wondering what she wants from me, if she wants something from me.

What if she asked you to stay? I can’t imagine Mati asking me such a thing. She stays quiet as I take another sip of liquor. My eyes remain on the V at her breasts and the subtle heave of her chest, knowing I’m focused on her.

“It’s been a difficult few days,” she says, her eyes drifting to the closed curtains.

“What are you doing here, Mati?” I don’t want to talk about the funeral. I don’t want to talk about my mother, my father, my best friend, or her sons with him.

“I…I wanted to check on you. You worked the crowd today, but I know how hard it is to keep it together.”

“Let’s not compare death stories, okay?” I mutter, looking into my glass at the last drop of amber liquid. My mother’s passing isn’t the same as her husband’s.

“I just thought you might be keeping things tight to the chest—”

“That’s what I do,” I interrupted.

“I know, and I know you’re hurting when you can’t explain it.” She sighs. “But I’m here for you.” Her eyes pierce mine, but I don’t know how to express my feelings to Mati. I don’t know how to feel about anything as there have been too many things to feel lately.

“We don’t need to keep secrets,” she says, and I blink.

“I didn’t realize we were. I thought you just wanted to talk about my feelings.”

Her brows pinch, and her eyes shift to her knees. Her hand slips under her coat which she laid over the arm of the chair. Standing abruptly, coat in hand, she passes the end of the bed, keeping her face forward.

“I think I’ve made a mistake,” she mutters. As she draws near the corner of the mattress, I scramble over the coverlet and wrap an arm around her waist when my feet hit the floor. She narrowly escapes the short hall to the door, and I tug her to the wall, pinning her against it face first. My chest presses into her back, my hips flexing to hold her still. The coat over her wrist slips to the floor as her hands raise to protect her face from hitting the plaster.

“What secrets do you keep, Mati?” I whisper into her neck, breathing in her pomegranate scent, drawing in deep breaths, making myself high off her fragrance. My nose nuzzles her delicate skin, and my palm cups the spot under her jaw, feeling her swallow under my hold. My lips pucker below her ear.

She hasn’t answered me other than an increase in the pulse at her vein and the press of her backside as if she’s searching for me. I thrust forward, letting her know what she’s doing to me. Her tight dress. Her long hair. Her fruity scent.

“I’ll ask again. What are you doing here, Mati?” Without giving her time to answer, the hand at her throat slips downward and into the V of her dress. The material gives easily, and my fingers dip inside her bra to cover her breast. I squeeze, instantly feeling the peak of her nipple against my palm. I hiss at the hint of black lace bra.

“I’m afraid I’ll never feel again how I feel with you,” she mutters as if the line was practiced.

I hum against her neck as my fingers massage more aggressively at the weighty globe in my grasp. “What does that mean, Spice?” My lips begin a trail over her skin, and I nip her just above her clavicle. Her knees buckle, and she whimpers. “What secrets do you keep?”

“I loved you.” The words freeze my lips, my mouth open against her neck but no longer pressing against it. My hand stills as well, holding her breast in my palm. “That first kiss meant everything to me.”

I pull back and spin her to face me. “What?”

Bark brown eyes met mine, questioning if she should continue. I focus only on the color that has haunted my dreams for almost thirty years.