Amara lay in the shelter of Matthew’s arms, reveling in his warmth and nearness as she soaked in nature’s majesty above. The stars twinkled in full glory, winking at her as they had since she was a child. She spotted a few familiar constellations: Leo, Cancer, Cassiopeia. What she wouldn’t give to see them closely, to know of what they truly were made.
A strange blinking star moved across the sky, and she tensed. “What is that?”
“What?”
“The red star, the one that is moving.”
“That’s not a star. That’s an airplane.”
She exhaled. The man must think her the biggest ninny on the planet. There was so much she didn’t know. “Oh,” she mumbled, pulling her arms more tightly around herself. His fingers stroked a rhythmic pattern up and down her arm, and after a moment she relaxed into him.
They sat there together, enclosed in each other’s arms but focused on the stars, for what must have been at least a half hour, if not longer, Amara occasionally pointing out constellations. Not once had Matthew’s gentle caress indicated the desire for anything more, and not once had she thought to pursue a more intimate connection, though the idea held appeal. It is too cold, part of her said, and while that was certainly true, mostly she didn’t wish to interrupt the soothing sensation of simply being with him, without any sexual connection.
It thrilled her. It also frightened her.
No complications. No commitments. That’s what they’d agreed; there was nothing deeper between them, would be nothing deeper. A few hours seeking mutual pleasure was fine, but more than that was not what either wanted.
Was it?
“I can’t feel my toes,” he finally said. “We should probably go.”
She scooted away quickly, her own derriere numb from the sitting and the temperature. Once in the cab again, she bundled herself in one of the blankets, her teeth chattering.
“I kept you outside too long,” he said, the interior lights revealing a grimace as he started the truck.
“I wanted to be there.”
He only nodded as he pulled onto the road. He turned on the radio, which she took as an indication he did not wish to talk. It was fine; her own conflicting thoughts and emotions were all consuming.
What was between them? Could she, could they still claim a mere sexual liaison, given they’d spent the entire day in each other’s company, most of it not in bed? Then again, Taylor’s loss of her laptop had extended the day. Had they remained in Charlottesville, surely they would have parted ways hours ago.
She stole glances at him, the headlights of passing cars occasionally highlighting the contours of his face. She longed to reach out, to stroke the little hairs at the nape of his neck, to rest her hand on his thigh. She longed for things she didn’t want to admit.
She was in trouble.
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Matt tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm to the song on the radio, Selena Gomez’s Hands to Myself, acting for all intents and purposes as if he were totally at ease driving seventy plus miles an hour down the highway with this delectable woman next to him.
In truth, he was anything but. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. That in and of itself wasn’t unusual, perhaps; Lord knew far too many of his waking hours in the last few weeks had revolved around thoughts of Amara Mattersley. But it’d mostly been thoughts of Amara in bed—of what he wanted to do with her, what they had done, what she’d surprised him with.
Now his thoughts weren’t on sex at all. Okay, maybe ten percent on sex, especially considering the song playing, but the rest of his brain wrestled with how much plain old fun he’d had with her today, how relaxed he’d felt in her company, how glad he’d been that she’d come with him to Staunton. How pleasurable it’d been to watch her soak up the actors on the stage. How moving it’d been to see her face light up at the miracle of the Milky Way expanding across the sky. How he’d wanted to hold her, sure, but how the motivation had not been lust, but something far closer to ... tenderness.
He peeked over at her, her face mostly in shadows, lit just barely by the dash lights. She chewed on her lip, lost in thought. Could she be struggling with the same emotions, the same longings, the same confusion?
Half of him wanted to change up their agreement, to move from friends with benefits to friends who were very clearly something more. The other half of him wanted to run. A relationship didn’t fit into his plans. No way, no how. He didn’t have time for it, couldn’t afford to be distracted. And frankly, he didn’t want to get hurt again.
He’d told himself for years he was perfectly satisfied on his own. He didn’t want, didn’t need anything more. That kind of thing would complicate his life in ways he’d rather avoid. He had his cat; he didn’t need any more females in his life.
But looking over at the honey-haired beauty to his side, he was ready to chuck all those reasons against anything deeper right out the window. She was incredibly sexy, to be sure, but she intrigued him in ways beyond the physical. She was highly intelligent, and yet there were great gaps in her areas of knowledge. One moment she was open and friendly, the next biting and defensive. What wounds did she carry beneath that beautiful exterior? And since when had he cared about another’s emotional wounds?
His heart skipped a beat, and his breath caught in his throat. He had a feeling he was in serious trouble. The question was, was she in it with him?