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Matt looked into her eyes, the words flowing out before he had a chance to stop them. ‘My father always told me a man doesn’t get emotional. He said that one day when I had a family I would have to change.’ He had been trying but she made him ache for more than he should want.
Hannah took hold of his face, closing the distance between them and, automatically, Matt held her against him. ‘You don’t need to try to be that way. Don’t you see how people respond to you? Sarah, Alex, me: you’ve pulled us all in by being you. What you feel and share makes you who you are, and you are perfect. You don’t need to change to be.’
‘You don’t understand,’ he said, pulling away. ‘If it weren’t for me, my mother wouldn’t have lost her career and been unhappy. If I could have been different my father...’
‘What? Wouldn’t have been disappointed? Tried to change you?’
Matt said nothing.
‘It’s you who doesn’t understand.’ Hannah’s hands fisted in his shirt. ‘You didn’t ask to be born. They decided to have children. None of this is on you. Don’t you see? You were just a child. Innocent. And, because you have such a big heart, you tried to take on the world for everyone else too. You weren’t responsible for Sarah or your mother’s happiness or your father’s distance.’
Matt tried to look away. His throat had dried up.
‘Children love their parents so much all they ever want is some of that back. You didn’t get it from your father, Matt, it’s okay to be angry about that.’
She was right. The guilt he felt for being angry about his childhood clearly was because he still loved his parents. Why would he have held onto that townhouse for so long if he hadn’t?
‘Would you ever try to change our son to suit your wants?’
‘No, never.’ Matt was certain he would accept him unconditionally. He already loved him; yet Matt would never know if his father had loved him.
The fervour in Hannah’s eyes called to him. He crashed his lips down on hers. Yanking her to his body, he spun them round, pressing her against the solid railing. Snaking one arm around her waist, his other hand at the back of her head, Matt pinned Hannah to him. There was no escaping this kiss. Not that she was trying to. She opened up beneath him, accepting his rough, controlling kisses. His tongue dominated hers, lips sliding together, bruising, punishing.
This...this was what he needed. For now, he could think of nothing but the taste, feel and scent of Hannah.
His breathing was coming in ragged pants. His jeans tightened as he grew hard, pushing his erection against Hannah, who moaned at the contact. Then her hands were under his shirt, asking, pleading for more of him and, God, he wanted to take her right here. This woman ignited his blood. And heaven help him if this wasn’t what he lived for.
He pulled away, making her whine in protest. Normally he’d have a chuckle, smirk or witty comeback for the reaction. Not now; now he just wanted to be buried all the way in her. To bask in this realness.
‘Come with me.’ His voice was barely a growl and she nodded, threading her fingers in his. Matt tugged her along to the open French doors along the terrace on their wing of the house. Every step was torture until they made it to their room. The door was shut, locked and Matt had his clothes off all within seconds.
‘Take off your clothes,’ he ordered, and Hannah obeyed. ‘Take it all off.’ She did as she was told. The cream jumpsuit pooled at her feet. She stood in front of him, glorious in her nudity. He dropped to his knees, looked into her eyes then leaned forward and kissed her deeply. Hannah smacked a hand over her mouth to stop the drawn-out moan escaping.
‘No, I want to hear you.’ His tongue delved into her sex once more and he noticed that she was now biting on her finger. It wouldn’t do. He stood and lifted her, wrapping her legs around him as he took her to bed. Settling against the pillows, with Hannah straddling him, he held her face and kissed her. Let her taste herself on his tongue.
‘You’re not hiding anything from me tonight.’ This was what he needed. Understanding lit her eyes. He was baring himself to her in the only way he knew how. Then he was the one moaning out her name as she lowered herself onto his hardness. Matt was lost to sensation. The world fell away and all that was left was them.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HANNAH KNEW MATT had been scraped raw on the inside. That kiss had proved it. The sex that had followed, even more so. The moment his lips had taken hers she’d vowed to be exactly what he needed. She hadn’t measured her responses to him. She never could anyway. Hannah had responded to his every touch. The more she had, the more he’d seemed to want it, that unfiltered honesty. So she’d given and given, and he’d taken and taken.
The problem was he was still holding back. Not with his body; that had been unapologetic in its honesty. But his heart, his feelings—they were sealed tight.
When they had awoken, Matt had been entirely pleasant and it had annoyed her endlessly. After everything she’d found out about is childhood, the way she had found him on the terrace, Hannah was certain he was hurting. Except he was trying to hide it.
It probably would have bothered her less if she couldn’t see the lines of tension around his eyes. Light bruises coloured the skin beneath them, betraying how little sleep—if any—he had got.
If Matt wasn’t going to come to her, then she would go to him. She would be brave for both of them. Show him that vulnerability didn’t have to be a weakness.
Hannah was adamant she could do this. It was a risk, but she was strong.
* * *
‘Join me for a drink on the terrace?’ Matt asked the evening they returned to his apartment.
Smiling softly, Hannah nodded. She watched Matt pour a glass of wine for himself and ginger ale, which she accepted. Taking a deep breath, she convinced herself she could do this, and followed him out.
Matt had seated himself on the chaise end of the couch, inviting Hannah to sit between his legs. She leaned against his chest. His warmth seeped into her back.
