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I sit up straighter, no more snuggling into him even though that’s the only thing I want to do. “Mr. Perfect. He’s here.”
Matthew’s hand tightens in my hair enough that it hurts. I can’t hold in the pained whimper even though I try. His grip instantly loosens, and he gently massages my head soothing away the hurt he inadvertently caused.
“Why the fuck would he be here?” Matthew growls.
The look in his eyes is terrifying. His blue-black eyes look like a raging thunderstorm ready to beat against you until you succumb to its will. I flashback to another time when Matthew looked this feral.
I had been with the Grants for three days when Mr. Perfect snuck into my room at night after everyone had gone to bed. When he attempted to crawl into bed with me, I screamed bloody murder. My screams woke Matthew up, and he came rushing into the room. Mr. Perfect was so shocked by my reaction that he didn’t fight when Matthew pushed him out of the room.
I was too terrified to fall back asleep. My room no longer felt safe. Matthew took me to his room and settled me into his bed. He sat up all night against the door, keeping watch to make sure Mr. Perfect didn’t come looking for me again. Matthew moved into the room with the other boys the next day. He was the only one with his own room, and he willingly gave up his privacy so that I could feel safe.
I wasn’t naïve. I knew exactly what would have happened if Matthew hadn’t come running when I screamed that night. He was my knight in shining armor ten years ago, and he’s been my hero from the moment Damon pushed me into his arms.
“I don’t know why he’s here. He never leaves Chicago.” I have to fight back a sob because it hurts to even think the words I’m about to say. “Now that he knows I’m here, he will never stop looking for me. I have to leave. If he gets his hands on me, he will kill me.”
That’s only partly true. Mr. Perfect would never sully his hands with murder. No, he would find the most sadistic client and give them permission to do anything they want. He would orchestrate my death and make money in the process.
Matthew lets out a low growl, then pulls me off the floor and into his lap. He hugs me close, his arms steel bars around me. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. I just got you back. I’m not letting you go, not now or ever. You hear me?”
I chew my lip, considering my options. The city is massive. Mr. Perfect doesn’t know who I’m staying with. Surely the chances are slim that he would find me. It doesn’t take much for me to talk myself into staying. It’s selfish, but I don’t want to leave Matthew.
“I’ll stay. You have to know… if he finds out you’re hiding me, he will make you suffer.” I cup Matthew’s cheek and look him directly in the eye wanting him to heed my warning.
Slade snorts, drawing my attention. I completely forgot that we aren’t alone. “With all due respect, this Mr. Perfect as you call him is on my shortlist, and I don’t even know what the fuck he did to you yet. He scared Hannah, and that’s an unforgivable sin in my book.”
Hannah rubs her cheek against Slade’s leg as if she’s trying to calm him. He lets out a frustrated breath. “I promised I would keep you safe, and that’s that. Don’t you worry about this guy. He has no clue what he’s up against if he attempts to harm one hair on your pretty little head.”
Slade reaches down and picks Hannah up and stands. There is some unspoken conversation between him and Matthew before he carries her toward the bedrooms. This penthouse isn’t nearly as big as the other one, but just like at his main home, Slade and Hannah both have rooms here.
Matthew and I are quiet for a long time. Both of us content to just be. Unfortunately, in the silence, my mind wanders to places I don’t want it to go. The stress and anxiety from the day have me fraying at the edges. I do my best to focus on the feel of Matthew’s arms around me, the steady beat of his heart, and his deep, even breathing. I try to siphon off a bit of his strength and self-assuredness, but doubts plague my mind.
Is staying the right thing?
“You have nothing to worry about, Rosie.” I didn’t realize I had spoken out loud until Matthew answered my question. He tenderly caresses my cheek, cupping it in his large hand. “I will make sure you’re safe no matter what it takes. No more running and hiding. You’re mine, and if Nelson Grant wants you, he’s going to have to go through me to get you, and that isn’t happening.”
He says the words so fervently I know he means every word. He’s not scared of Mr. Perfect. If I didn’t know any better, I would say he almost relishes the idea that Mr. Perfect is stupid enough to come up against him. That thought sends a chill down my spine.
Matthew has no idea what that monster is capable of. I love that he wants to protect me, but I struggle to let go of the all-consuming fear. My brain is screaming at me to run. To disappear and not look back. My heart says to stay, consequences be damned. I wish I were a stronger person. If I were, I would never be tempted to put the only person who has ever cared about me at risk. But I’m not strong, and the allure of staying in Matthew’s care is too much to resist.
He’s offering not only freedom from fear but the chance to reconnect with the only good thing from my past—himself. He’s giving me permission to explore where these tender moments are leading. That’s a terrifying thought in and of itself. In my world, all good things come to an end. Ripped away by cruelty only to be replaced by torment.
Matthew’s dark eyes are watching me intently as if he can read my every thought as I try to justify putting his life in danger by staying. It feels like an epic battle of wills. The will to flee is at war with the desire to stay. The intensity of his stare has my heart in a vise. That fool emotion that’s kicked me a million times over the years—hope—springs to life.
I turn away from his gaze, knowing that no rational decision will come while I’m drowning in those inky-blue depths. He gently turns my face so that I’m once again looking at him. “Stay.”
With that one word, my decision is made. My heart wins the battle, and common sense loses the war. “Okay. I’ll stay if it’ll make you happy. I’m just scared of you getting hurt because of me. I feel like a pariah, bringing bad luck and pain wherever I go.”
Anger flashes hot through his eyes for a brief moment, then simmers into an emotion I can hardly name. “Amara Rose, don’t you ever think that again. You’ve always been the light of my life. I survived on the hope of one day finding you. It’s what kept me going.” Matthew heaves a sigh, then shakes his head as if he can’t believe that I don’t already know what he’s saying is truth. “You. Are. Mine.” Each word is punctuated with a gentle kiss to my forehead, my cheek, the corner of my lips. It’s so achingly sweet. My heart melts that this fierce man so readily shows me sweet affection.
“Mine,” he growls, then takes my lips with determination.
His lips massage mine, his tongue teases across my bottom lip, asking for entrance. I don’t deny him, I don’t think I could if I tried. Our kiss takes on a life of its own until we’re both lost to sensation. He weaves his fingers through my hair, deepening our kiss. He tastes like sweet mint and dark chocolate. I’m brought back to a time when a teenaged Matthew used to hide Junior Mints in his backpack. I can’t help wondering if he still keeps the sweet treat stashed somewhere or if this is just Matthew.
Either way, his kiss is addicting. I bury my hands in his thick hair and lock myself to him, kissing him with all that I am. I can’t get close enough. Clumsily, I turn on his lap so that I’m straddling him. I moan into his lips as my aching nipples brush against his chest. We drink from each other’s lips like there’s nothing else in the world we need to survive. He’s my very breath, my heartbeat, my entire reason for being. There’s a rightness to us being together that can’t be denied.
Matthew’s hands run down my back, and the small touch of pain when he rubs along a particularly sore spot only heightens my senses, adding another layer to my pleasure. His hands make their way to my ass, and with one little tug, my core lines up perfectly with his hard cock. I break away from his lips on a moan as he rocks me against his erection. He drags his lips back and forth across my jaw, then down my neck and back again.
It all becomes too much. Matthew must sense that I’m about to pull away because one of his hands latches onto the back of my neck, holding me in place while the other anchors to my bottom, pulling me in closer to him. He guides my lips back to his, and I lose myself in his kiss, rocking my hips so that the hard ridge of his cock rubs me in all the right places. The silk of my panties does nothing to disguise my wetness.
