appropriate noises and sometimes hit the right
key. Then a pleasant baritone joined her, and she gazed up at delight at Matt,
who was singing what were obviously the correct words. She tried to sing with
him as they walked, and they even tried some parts at the end. It wasn’t a very
successful attempt, but Carrie was pleased nonetheless.
As they
finished, she clapped her hands and impulsively gave Matt a hug.
He hugged her
back, holding her tighter and harder than she expected. But he felt
wonderful—firm and strong and substantial against her—and she didn’t see any
reason to end the embrace.
They’d kissed a
lot over the last three months. They’d caressed each other. Explored each other
intimately. And they’d screwed. A lot.
But they hadn’t
hugged very much.
When she
finally pulled away, her buzz was starting to wear off, but a soft languor
still remained. Grinning, she said in an ironic voice she hoped would cut the
odd mood, “Who would have thought that Matthew Lynch and his hard edge would
like to sing Christmas carols?”
“I bet there’s
a lot about me that you don’t know.” His words were bland, but his eyes
lingered with a strange intensity on her face, reminding her of the first night
they’d met.
Carrie looked
away, a little flustered. “That’s probably true.”
They walked in
silence for a few minutes until Matt finally asked, “Are you ready to go home?”
She wasn’t
really ready. She didn’t want to leave Matt. They never went home with each
other. If she went home, she would do so alone.
***
Matt said nothing about spending
the night during the drive home, so Carrie felt uncomfortable asking.
She wasn’t
worried that he would laugh or reject the suggestion to spend the night with
her. Rather, she was embarrassed about admitting to herself that she wanted him
to.
After so many
months of being convinced—absolutely, utterly convinced—that she would never
feel for anyone this way after Henry, here she was feeling this way for Matt.
When Matt had
never said a word about wanting her for anything but sex.
So she was
wrapped up in her thoughts for most of the drive, and she jerked in surprise
when the driver pulled the car in front of a building she’d never seen before.
“Where are we?” she asked, peering out the window. It was an older neighborhood,
and there was a little park across the street, so it was obvious these
apartments were way beyond her budget.
“This is my
place.”
“Oh.” She
blinked, trying to figure out what was going on and wishing she hadn’t drunk so
much, since her head was still a little fuzzy.
“I wasn’t
paying attention, but I can tell him to take us back to your place, if you’d
rather.”
“You want me to
come up?” Her heart fluttered wildly, and she wasn’t sure if it was from fear
or excitement.
“You can, if
you want.”
“Are you…are
you sure?” They’d always spent nights in hotels. Her coming to his place felt
like a gigantic leap beyond their boundaries.
His eyes were
sharp with scrutiny as they scanned her face, as if he were seeking an answer
for her stuttering bewilderment. Then his expression relaxed, the corner of his
mouth quirking up. “Have I ever shown myself reluctant to spend the night with
you?”
His implication
was true, without question. But this was his bed, his apartment.
Evidently
reading her mind, Matt added, more gently, “We can find a hotel room if you’d
prefer. Or I can just take you home.”
Carrie didn’t
prefer. She wanted to go upstairs with him. It just made her incredibly
nervous. “No,” she murmured, slanting him a smile she hoped was flirtatious
rather than terrified. “Here’s good.”
They went up to
his apartment without speaking. Inside, Matt offered her a drink, and she
gratefully accepted a bottle of water.
His apartment
had high ceilings, historical detail, huge windows, and wide-plank hardwood
floors. There was an eclectic mix of art on the walls, but none
key. Then a pleasant baritone joined her, and she gazed up at delight at Matt,
who was singing what were obviously the correct words. She tried to sing with
him as they walked, and they even tried some parts at the end. It wasn’t a very
successful attempt, but Carrie was pleased nonetheless.
As they
finished, she clapped her hands and impulsively gave Matt a hug.
He hugged her
back, holding her tighter and harder than she expected. But he felt
wonderful—firm and strong and substantial against her—and she didn’t see any
reason to end the embrace.
They’d kissed a
lot over the last three months. They’d caressed each other. Explored each other
intimately. And they’d screwed. A lot.
But they hadn’t
hugged very much.
When she
finally pulled away, her buzz was starting to wear off, but a soft languor
still remained. Grinning, she said in an ironic voice she hoped would cut the
odd mood, “Who would have thought that Matthew Lynch and his hard edge would
like to sing Christmas carols?”
“I bet there’s
a lot about me that you don’t know.” His words were bland, but his eyes
lingered with a strange intensity on her face, reminding her of the first night
they’d met.
Carrie looked
away, a little flustered. “That’s probably true.”
They walked in
silence for a few minutes until Matt finally asked, “Are you ready to go home?”
She wasn’t
really ready. She didn’t want to leave Matt. They never went home with each
other. If she went home, she would do so alone.
***
Matt said nothing about spending
the night during the drive home, so Carrie felt uncomfortable asking.
She wasn’t
worried that he would laugh or reject the suggestion to spend the night with
her. Rather, she was embarrassed about admitting to herself that she wanted him
to.
After so many
months of being convinced—absolutely, utterly convinced—that she would never
feel for anyone this way after Henry, here she was feeling this way for Matt.
When Matt had
never said a word about wanting her for anything but sex.
So she was
wrapped up in her thoughts for most of the drive, and she jerked in surprise
when the driver pulled the car in front of a building she’d never seen before.
“Where are we?” she asked, peering out the window. It was an older neighborhood,
and there was a little park across the street, so it was obvious these
apartments were way beyond her budget.
“This is my
place.”
“Oh.” She
blinked, trying to figure out what was going on and wishing she hadn’t drunk so
much, since her head was still a little fuzzy.
“I wasn’t
paying attention, but I can tell him to take us back to your place, if you’d
rather.”
“You want me to
come up?” Her heart fluttered wildly, and she wasn’t sure if it was from fear
or excitement.
“You can, if
you want.”
“Are you…are
you sure?” They’d always spent nights in hotels. Her coming to his place felt
like a gigantic leap beyond their boundaries.
His eyes were
sharp with scrutiny as they scanned her face, as if he were seeking an answer
for her stuttering bewilderment. Then his expression relaxed, the corner of his
mouth quirking up. “Have I ever shown myself reluctant to spend the night with
you?”
His implication
was true, without question. But this was his bed, his apartment.
Evidently
reading her mind, Matt added, more gently, “We can find a hotel room if you’d
prefer. Or I can just take you home.”
Carrie didn’t
prefer. She wanted to go upstairs with him. It just made her incredibly
nervous. “No,” she murmured, slanting him a smile she hoped was flirtatious
rather than terrified. “Here’s good.”
They went up to
his apartment without speaking. Inside, Matt offered her a drink, and she
gratefully accepted a bottle of water.
His apartment
had high ceilings, historical detail, huge windows, and wide-plank hardwood
floors. There was an eclectic mix of art on the walls, but none
Similar Books
