Grace (The Family Simon 5)

“You’re a good girl, Grace.”

She slapped at him. “I’m not a girl. Don’t patronize me.”

But that darkness she’d sensed earlier filled his eyes and his mouth was set into a cruel grin.

“I’m not a guy you want to fix. I’m the guy you should be running from. Because I’m the guy who would bend you over that sink and spread your legs as wide as I could. I’m the guy who would yank your pants down, rip off your panties and screw you into next week even though you came here with another man.”

He inched closer still. So close that his body heat scorched her skin. So close that only a whisper separated them. She was trembling and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Holy hell, had she underestimated the power this man had over her.

His breath was warm on her cheek and she squeezed her eyes shut, hating him in that moment. Hating him and wanting him. How insane was that?

“I’m not a good man.”

She thought of the first time she’d met him. Of how he’d walked her sister-in-law Betty Jo down the aisle. He’d been so gentle with Betty. So loving and protective. She thought of that long-ago, winter kiss. Thought of the hunger and need she’d felt inside him. Slowly her eyes opened.

“No. You’re not a nice man, Matt. But you could be.”

A muscle worked its way along his jaw, and he stepped back, swearing under his breath.

“So that’s it?” she challenged. “That’s all you’ve got? I’m a bad man, end of story?”

His cell phone pinged and he scooped it out of his jacket before she could blink. Unbelievable. He glanced at it and frowned, scrolled through a few messages and then shoved it back inside his coat.

“I don’t have time for this Grace. I’m…look I’m sorry about…I’m sorry about everything. I should never have gone back to your place. I…” He made a guttural sound and shook his head. “I’ve got to get back to Rosie.”

Rosie? Red-hot anger washed over her and Grace thumped him in the chest—hard. So hard that he rocked back on his heels.

“Who the hell is Rosie?” she snapped, thumping him again. My God, she thought. How many women was he juggling?

Matt caught her hands up in his and swore again, barely avoiding her knee in his groin. But Grace was beyond being rational. Sasha. Now Rosie? She kicked at him again, suddenly wanting to hurt him as much as his words hurt her.

“Calm the hell down,” Matt barked, his mouth close to her ear. “Dammit, they can probably hear you all the way to the bar.”

“I don’t care,” she ground out, shoving at him. Winded, she exhaled and tried to shove a thick chunk of hair from her face. She moved her arm and stilled, slowly becoming aware of just how intimately she was pressed into Matt.

She turned her head slightly and froze, eyes riveted to his mouth. Time passed slowly, the only sound in her ear their ragged breaths. Then someone groaned. It could have been Grace. It could have been Matt. In the end it didn’t matter.

His mouth slid over hers and he took possession with a hunger that made her knees go weak. She sagged against him, hands creeping up to his neck and she held him as if her very life depended on it. His kiss was punishing at first, his lips hard. They tangled together angrily. Grace pushing at him with her hands and tugging on his hair.

But then he made a noise that barreled up from deep inside him. It was a sound of hunger and need and passion. It made Grace’s stomach flip, and when his lips gentled…when he slid his tongue just inside to taste her, when he spread small feathery kisses along her bottom lip until he stilled at the corner of her mouth…

She knew something had just changed.

He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, breathing raggedly. They stood like that for a few more seconds, until his cell pinged again and broke whatever spell it was that had fallen over them.

Mouth bruised, she had to ask. “Who’s Rosie?”

Matt let go of her and that stupid lump was back. She tried to turn from him, her eyes on the ground, but his hand was on her chin and he forced her to look up at him. There was a struggle there—she could see it in his eyes—and when he finally spoke, his voice was thick. Rough. As if he had to force the words out.

“Do you want to meet her?”

Unsure, Grace could only nod.

He paused, as if surprised at her answer. But then his hand slipped to the small of her back and he unlocked the bathroom door. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice low and throaty. “This way.”

They didn’t head back into the bar. Instead Matt’s hand found hers and he led Grace out back into the crisp night air. Out to a large F-150 parked near the dumpsters. They slid inside and the truck roared to life. Matt didn’t hesitate, he put the vehicle in drive and they headed out of the parking lot. She caught sight of her rental as they pulled onto the road. Shit. Josh. She’d text him. Tell him to take a cab to the hotel.

“You sure about this?” Matt asked, taking his foot off the gas.