AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Honesty.
“I don’t regret that night, Matt, and I don’t want to forget it. You opened my eyes to things I’ve never allowed myself to acknowledge, and while it was somewhat terrifying, it was also exciting.”
Matt hadn’t recognized her submissiveness until that night. However, he found himself too hung up on the idea that she found it exciting. Did that mean she intended to expand on it? To seek out lovers who would give her what she wanted sexually?
Matt felt like burning the whole world down as the image of Liza exploring her newfound sexual desires with any man who wasn’t him flashed behind his eyes. The possessiveness that coursed through him was uncomfortable. He’d never felt a drop of jealousy in his life, but he was desperate to close the distance between them, to lay claim to her lips, her body…to her. All of her.
“I don’t regret what we shared either.” She’d opened up to him, given him a glimpse of her feelings, so he owed her that much. “But?—”
She laughed, though it wasn’t a joyful sound. “There’s always a but, isn’t there?”
“I’m afraid so.” His next words would be some of the hardest he’d ever spoken. “But?—”
She cut him off again. “But you’re back with Patricia, so it can’t happen again.” Leave it to Liza to rip off the Band-Aid.
He wasn’t sure he heard or imagined the slight inflection at the end of her sentence that made it sound like she was asking rather than telling him.
“It won’t happen again.” Matt steeled himself to hold steady, refusing to let her see just how much those four words killed him to say. He closed his hands into fists, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms, to kiss her again.
Because damn if he didn’t want those soulful, expressive, beautiful brown eyes in his life…for the rest of his life.
Liza licked her lower lip, but he couldn’t tell if it was an invitation or a show of nerves.
It didn’t matter because now that he was looking at her lips, the devil on his shoulder prodded at him, telling him to claim another kiss.
Just one more.
He’d almost convinced himself he could do it. Could kiss her one last time and then let her go. He unclenched his hands, ready to reach for her, but in the end, Liza proved herself to be the stronger person.
She gave him a sad smile, stepped back, and then walked to the door. Opening it, she glanced back at him over her shoulder.
“Goodbye, Matt.”
The door was closed behind her before he could manage to whisper the words, “Goodbye, Liza.”
Matt wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring at the closed door, but when his cellphone rang, he jerked, startled by the sudden noise in his too-quiet office.
He walked to his desk, intent on sending the call to voicemail. Then he read the screen and before he could think better of it, he answered.
“Devonte wants to know when you’re coming back.”
“Hello to you too,” Matt joked, chuckling at Arnold’s greeting. He turned to look out the window of his sixteenth-floor office, grateful for this distraction.
Arnold Jackson was a tenacious son of a bitch, something Matt typically found annoying as hell. However, for some unknown reason, Arnold’s phone calls didn’t fall into that category. In fact, Matt enjoyed speaking to the older man.
Matt didn’t have a lot of friends. Unless he counted his brothers. And his old college roommate, John Kelly, who refused to say die on the friendship. Of course, all John managed was to drag Matt out for lunch once every two or three months. None of those relationships were close enough that he felt comfortable sharing confidences.
That was something he hadn’t done in a very long time. One of the first lessons Dad ever taught Matt was to trust no one. “Everyone’s looking for a weakness, Matt. Don’t reveal any and they’ll never be able to hurt you.” Dante Russo had been a regular Dr. Spock.
However, his gut told him that should he ever want to confide in someone, Arnold was the type of friend he could trust, one who might even understand him.
Arnold didn’t back down. “So?”
“Dammit, Arnold. I was just there two days ago. I’m not in any hurry to have those kids wipe the floor with me again.”
Since his initial visit to the Promise House just before the holidays, Matt had returned almost a dozen times more, dropping by two or three days a week. He told himself he was going back because playing basketball with the teens added variety to his fitness routine and was a great cardio workout, but the truth was, he liked going there.
His life for the last fourteen years had consisted of work and home with the occasional social event sprinkled in, and he’d always told himself that was the way he liked things. Uncomplicated. Predictable. Organized.
