Tied with Me
Page 65

“Fuck, you’re already so wet,” he growls and plants wet kisses on my neck.
I begin to rise and fall on him, squeezing my muscles with every pull up.
He bites his lip and looks down where we’re joined, watching with hot eyes.
He reaches around me and grabs my hands in his, holding me prisoner as his hips piston up and down beneath me, fucking me hard.
“Holy fuck,” he grinds out, his eyes gliding up and down my body, over the curves in the tight dress, down to where we’re joined and back up again to look me in the eye. “Love being inside you, little one.”
I bite my lip, afraid I’m going to cry. I love it, too!
“Please untie my hands.”
“Are you hurting?” He stills, his face sober. He cups my cheek in one palm and watches me closely.
“No.” Yes! More than I ever have. “My hands don’t hurt, but I really want to touch you. Please.”
He frowns but reaches behind me and unties my hands.
I immediately wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face against his throat. I begin to move my hips, riding him hard and fast.
“Ah fuck, Nic,” he growls and once again grips my hips, guiding me as I ride him.
I keep my face planted in his neck so he can’t see the tears that fall silently as I make love to him, showing him with my body how much I love him.
“Baby, I’m going to come. If you don’t slow down, I’m going to come.”
I speed up. The tears stop, and I focus all of my energy, everything I am, on Matt.
Suddenly, he stands and reverses our position, laying me flat on the couch, all without falling out of me.
“I have to…” he mutters and begins to fuck me with long, hard thrusts, pounding into me unlike he ever has before, until he finally reaches between us and plants his thumb on my clit, making me fall over the edge into oblivion with him.
Before we can catch our breath, he pulls me back up into his arms and carries me, with my legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, to the bedroom. He lays me gently on the bed, covering me with his body, brushing the backs of his fingers over my face.
“Matt,” I begin and have to clear my throat, praying I don’t start crying again.
“Yes, little one.”
I open my mouth to reply but have to close it again and try to get my thoughts in order.
“Hey.” He frowns and continues to caress my face, my hair. “Talk to me, baby. You’ve been acting strange since we were at the hospital.”
“I just…” I try to look away, but he grabs my chin and holds me in his gaze. “I love you,” I tell him simply.
And it’s true.
But I’m not right for you. I can’t make the words come. I’m such a fucking wimp. But I know him, and he’ll try to fix it, to tell me that everything will be fine, and I don’t think they will.
Seeing him with his family, worried over that unborn baby, soothing Olivia and holding her safely on his shoulder, showed me that I can’t fit in with his family.
I can’t give him a family.
And of anyone I’ve ever met in my life, Matt deserves that. I love him too much to ask him to do without it.
His face softens, and he kisses me tenderly before pulling away and lying next to me. He pulls me to him and nuzzles my nose with his. “I love you, too.”
His eyes are heavy, and soon he’s fallen asleep, breathing deeply.
I stay, watching him for a long time. I have no idea how much time passes as I listen to his even breaths, comb my fingers through his soft hair and take in every scent, every inch of his face and body, memorizing him.
Finally, when dawn is just beginning to come through the window, casting the room in a gray glow, I rise carefully, pull my dress down, retrieve my shoes and bag from the living room and let myself out of Matt’s home.
And his life.
Chapter Seventeen
~Matt~
I frown as I begin to surface from sleep and realize that Nic isn’t pressed up against me like she usually is in the morning. I open my eyes and glance around, but she’s not in the bed. The sheets are cool where she should be.
I lie and listen for a moment, hoping to hear movement in the kitchen. Maybe she decided to get up and make breakfast?
But there is no sound anywhere. Not in the kitchen. Not in the bathroom.
The apartment is still.
Where the fuck is she?
I push out of bed and walk through the apartment, just to be sure she isn’t curled up somewhere quietly reading, and when my suspicions are confirmed that she’s gone, I’m stumped.
What the fuck?
I pull my phone out of my jeans that were laying on the floor by the bed and call her, but she doesn’t answer, so I tap out a quick text.
Hey, baby. Where did you go? Please tell me you’re out getting breakfast.
I use the bathroom, splash water on my face and pull on some clothes. When she doesn’t respond to my text, I call her again, only to be sent to voice mail.
Did something happen to her? Did she get a call about her family, or the bakery?
Maybe she left a note?
I search the apartment again but come up empty. No note. No message.
She’s just gone.
Cold, hard fear grips my gut as I grab my keys and slam out of my apartment to go search for her. Anything could have happened to her. What if she’d gone out to get coffee and was mugged? Raped?
Jesus, should I call the hospitals?
I find parking in front of the bakery and knock on the front door, praying she’s here. She isn’t open yet.