The knock on the door woke Matt, and he opened one eye, blinking wearily at the clock. 9:52 p.m. What on earth? He’d fallen asleep before ten?
The knock sounded again, more insistent. Who could that be?
Lovey meowed in protest as Matt rose from the bed and slipped on his robe. Suddenly, it hit him. Amara. It could be Amara. He tore out of the bedroom, skidding to a halt in front of the door. He worked the locks, then threw it open.
And there she stood, her hair askew, her eyes red-rimmed.
She’d never looked more beautiful.
“Hello,” she said, her voice quaking. Nervousness?
“Hello.”
“I caught the first flight I could. I’m sorry for the late—”
He didn’t let her finish, pulling her in through the doorway and into his arms, his lips crashing down on hers as he slammed the door behind her. She squeaked in response, but then laced her arms up around his neck, weaving her hands through his hair, pulling him even closer.
They kissed, at first heatedly, intensely, as if each feared the other would disappear. Then the kisses dissolved into a tenderer, more leisurely embrace. At length, she pulled away slightly, but not before dropping a kiss on his jaw. “I’m so sorry for sending you away, Matthew.”
“Shh.” He traced her mouth with his finger, his eyes widening when she lightly bit the tip. “I’m sorry for all of it. Forgetting a condom. The mess I made with you when you told me. The—the miscarriage.”
He swallowed, grief pounding through his temples. “But I’m not sorry for you. I’m not sorry I met you. I don’t care how it happened. I don’t care if Cat wove us together with some sort of spell. She was right; I needed it to happen. I needed you.”
His hands rose to frame her face. “I was living half a life before I met you, Amara. I thought I was happy. I had my job, my machines.” He waved a hand toward the computers lining the living room. “But I wasn’t. I was hiding. Determined not to get hurt again like Wendy hurt me. Like my father hurt me. And in doing so, I avoided everything. Until you.”
“Oh, Matthew. I did the same. I told myself I wanted to come here for independence, for a new future. But mostly I was running from my past. Hiding from my mistakes, too. When I repeated them here, I ran again.” She traced his jaw with her hand, her fingers trailing over the stubble. “I wish I’d realized sooner you weren’t what was sabotaging my desires. I was.”
She leaned up to press her lips against his but released him again quickly. “I thought I couldn’t have love. On occasion, I wanted it, after seeing Deveric and Eliza. But it wasn’t for me, not if it meant losing my freedom. My independence. Myself. When Eliza described this future, her education, the choices available, I had to come. But I thought the last thing I wanted, the last thing I needed, was love.”
She gave him a grin that quickly turned saucy. “I admit freely, I liked the benefits this freedom gave me. My time with you here. But I couldn’t see a way to make a relationship work without giving up my own dreams. I thought love meant entrapment. Like it had with Drake Evers.”
She ran her fingers over his eyebrow, then smoothed them into his hair again. “But you ... you are not Drake. You are not like any man I have ever known. You let me be me. And I love you for it.”
Matt’s pupils flared. “Say it again.”
“I love you, Mr. Matthew Goodson.” A meow at their feet interrupted them as Matt dipped to kiss her again, and they laughed, the insistent feline weaving her way in and out of Amara’s legs.
“Guess I’m not the only one who missed you.” He swung her into his arms, carrying her down the hallway.
“Matthew,” Amara said, her eyes anxious. “I can’t yet. I’m still bleeding, and ...”
“It’s all right, Amara. I wasn’t expecting anything. We have a lifetime for that. I just want to hold you ... and never let you go.”
She relaxed into him, delighting in the warmth of his body against hers, the soft texture of his robe tickling her cheek. He laid her on the bed, then shed the robe as she settled herself under the blanket.
“You’re naked!” she shrieked, though her eyes drank in the sight of him.
“So I am. You know I sleep like this. Just in case a sexy siren should slip into bed with me.” He crawled onto the mattress, sliding under the blanket with her, and rolled onto his side, pulling her against him so that his large frame encircled her, his arm settling over her waist, his hand resting just below her breasts.
“And does that happen often?” she challenged.
“Once in a lifetime, dearest Amara. Once in a lifetime.”
Together, they fell asleep.