‘What happened? Another accident?’
‘Yes, but not my fault, before you say it. I was in a car crash when I was nineteen months old. I had a ruptured spleen and a perforated bowel.’
‘Ouch.’ He turned his attention back to her ribs and prodded them gently and rather too thoroughly. ‘Well, there’s nothing displaced,’ he said, and she rolled her eyes.
‘I could have told you that. I don’t have a fracture, Matt.’
‘How do you know? It’s not possible to be sure.’
She sighed. ‘Because I’m inside my body and you’re not?’
One eyebrow shot up, his eyes locked briefly with hers and then he let his breath out on what could have been a laugh and tugged her T-shirt back down, and she realised what she’d said.
Colour flooded her face and she groaned. ‘Sorry—I didn’t mean that quite the way it came out.’
‘No, I don’t suppose you did.’ He got to his feet and picked up his mug, hefting the ice pack in his hand and avoiding her eyes. ‘This thing’s thawed. I’ll get you another one, then I’ll make some more coffee and sort my stuff out. Do you want another drink?’
She shook her head, half mortally embarrassed at her off-the-cuff remark, and half tantalised by the idea of Matt’s really rather gorgeous body so intimately locked with hers.
‘No, I’m fine.’
She heard the door close behind her and stifled a groan, then dropped her head back against the sun lounger and closed her eyes.
Why had she said that? She’d never be able to look him in the eye again. Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot!
But her body was still caught up in the thought, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry...
SHE DIDN’T MEAN it like that.
Obviously she didn’t mean it like that, but the idea was in his head now, the thought of his body buried deep inside hers flooding his senses and driving him crazy.
He closed the kitchen door, put the tea towel back into the freezer, switched the kettle on again and then dropped his head against the cupboard above and growled with frustration.
What was wrong with him today? First the kiss, now this?
For the first time since Juliet, he wanted a woman. Not just any woman, but Livvy, apparently, and the thought wouldn’t leave him alone.
All he could think about was peeling away her clothes and kissing every inch of her, touching her, stroking her skin, feeling the warmth of her body against his, the hitch in her breath as he touched her more intimately, the heat as he buried himself inside her—and he didn’t know how to deal with it.
Should he be feeling like this? It had been two years—two years and a week, to be exact—but was that long enough? He didn’t think so, but his body didn’t seem to agree with him.
What do I do, Jules? Where do I go from here? I’m not ready for this...
He heard a sound in the living room and opened the door. Livvy was limping across the room, hopping from one piece of furniture to the next and then leaning heavily on it as she hobbled.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I thought I’d go and lie down for a bit, then maybe pack?’
‘Let me give you a hand.’
‘I can manage.’
Stubborn woman.
‘Of course you can, but only until you run out of furniture.’
He reached her side, took her arm and slung it round his neck and wrapped his other arm round her waist, being careful of her ribs.
‘OK?’
She nodded, and as she took a step forward there was a sharp crack and she gasped.
‘Was that your ankle?’
‘Mmm. Ouch.’
They looked down and she flexed it gingerly. ‘Oh. It feels better—like something was hung up.’
‘Try putting some weight on it, but carefully.’
She did, and nodded. ‘Better. It’s still very sore, but that definitely feels better.’
‘OK, well, don’t push your luck and don’t try and weight-bear on it unnecessarily until you’ve had it X-rayed. Let’s get you to your room.’
When they reached the side of the bed he let go carefully and she eased away from him, taking all that wonderful warmth and softness with her. Just as well. Except that instead of sitting down, as he’d expected, she looked up at him, slid her arms round him and hugged him, bringing all that warmth and softness back into intimate contact with his starving, grateful, desperate body.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured.
His arms closed around her without his permission. ‘What for?’ he asked, his voice a little strangled.
‘Just being you. You’ve been great the last few days. It’s been so much fun—well, till I wrecked it.’
‘You didn’t wreck it.’
She tipped her head back and their eyes met. ‘Yes, I did. Stop being nice, Matt. I know I was an idiot.’
He laughed softly and kissed her without thinking.
Just a brief kiss, nothing passionate or romantic, but still the sort of kiss you’d give a lover, a partner. Someone you were intimate with. And he wasn’t intimate with Livvy, and wasn’t going to be. He wasn’t ready yet, and he had other commitments that had to take priority. Would always have to take priority.
So he straightened up, trying to distance himself when all he wanted was to topple her backwards onto the bed and make love to her, but her eyes had widened, and after an endless moment she reached up, pulled his head gently back down to hers and kissed him.
Properly, this time, her lips parting, her tongue tangling with his, reeling him in, sending his senses into freefall.
He wanted her.
Every cell in his body was screaming for it, for her, for the heat, the passion, the closeness. He could feel her body pressed against his, feel his roaring to life, the ache, the longing in both of them as he kissed her back with all the pent-up need of two years of loneliness and putting himself last.
And then abruptly she let him go and sat down on the bed out of reach.
‘Is that your phone?’
Phone?
The ringtone was almost drowned out by his pounding heart, but it dragged him savagely back to reality.
‘Um—yeah. Yeah, it is.’
He pulled it out of his pocket, slightly dazed, took a step back and turned away, clearing his throat and groping for a normal voice.
‘Hi, Sam. Are you done?’
‘Yes—we’ve just reached the track. How’s Livvy?’
Kissing me...
‘She’s fine. I don’t think it’s broken. I’ll come and get you.’ He put the phone back in his pocket and turned back to her without meeting her eyes. ‘That was Sam,’ he said unnecessarily. ‘I’m going