Grace (The Family Simon Book 5) (2 page)

Grace shook her head but she didn’t get a chance to respond because Nicola shoved another tequila into her hands. She downed that shot too, not even tasting the stuff anymore.

“Doesn’t matter,” Grace eventually replied, once the fire had left her throat. “Because he’s not interested. Matt made it pretty clear that he and I would never be a thing.”

“Why not?”

That was the frustrating part. “I don’t know, Nic. Let’s just forget it. The guy lives in Michigan anyway.”

“But he’s in Nashville right now and he’s leaving tomorrow.”

“What do you want me to do?” she snapped. “Walk up to him, push that set of boobs out of the way and stick my tongue down his throat?”

“That would be a good start.” Her friend wiggled her tongue suggestively. “Maybe this time you’d graduate to naked kissing.”

Grace couldn’t help but smile. “You’re a nut bar.”

“And you need to get laid.”

Grace made a face. “Is that your answer for everything?”

Nicola’s eyes lit up and she giggled. “Damn right it is. Good sex can fix all kinds of problems.” She bit her lip and tilted her head suggestively. “I’m going to the washroom and then I’m going to”—she pointed toward the bar, at a tall man dressed in an expensive suit—“buy that guy a drink. I don’t plan on going home alone tonight and neither should you.”

“It’s not going to happen, Nic.”

Nicola shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that.” She leaned forward and kissed Grace on the cheek before whispering. “He’s on his way over.”

Grace whirled around and, sure enough, Matt Hawkins was pushing his way through the crowd. It wasn’t hard to spot him—he was at least six foot four, and built to match his height.

Their eyes met above the crowd and she didn’t look away. Neither did he. By the time he got to her, Grace’s heart was beating so fast and hard she felt light headed. Her skin was damp and her hair stuck to her neck. The white linen dress she wore clung to her body and she tugged at the neckline, inhaling sharply when his dark gaze followed her fingers, lingering on her chest for a few seconds longer than was polite. She didn’t care. She liked it.

How the hell could one man do this to her?

Matt’s generous mouth curved upward, and with his hands loose at his sides he smiled, his teeth flashing white in the dim room.

“I seem to have lost my date.”

Grace glanced behind him and spied the back of Candy’s head as she exited the bar with the guy Matt had been talking to earlier.

“What happened?” Did she care? His eyes were intense and suddenly it felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room.

“Candy said I was staring at you. She didn’t like that.”

Mouth dry, Grace took an extra heartbeat. “You were.” Was he remembering the kissing?

“I know.”

For that one moment, everything but the two of them faded away. There was no music. No jostling patrons. No men trying to get her attention. There was nothing but Matt and his eyes. Eyes that were so intense she felt his gaze like a heated touch.

Two years gone and it was still there.

It was a heavy moment and she
knew
he felt whatever this was between them. How could he not? It was hot and thick and full of something she was afraid to name. Was it just lust? Maybe. Or was it something more?

At that moment, Grace could have done one of two things. She could have said goodbye, have a nice life, and left the bar alone. Or she could have…

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked, her voice husky and barely above a whisper.

She saw the hesitation. It was in the way his shoulders suddenly tensed. But she also saw the want. That fire was definitely in his eyes. Grace exhaled slowly and held out her hand. She watched his fist ball up into his side before he slowly released it.

A heartbeat passed. And then his long fingers slid over hers.

2

I
t was still there. The pull. He felt it as soon as he laid eyes on Grace, and bastard that he was, he was acting on it. Matt should have walked away. Normally he would have, and yet here he was alone with a woman he shouldn’t be alone with.

Grace Simon.

He shook his head
. Shit.

The cab ride out to Belle Meade hadn’t been a long one, maybe twenty minutes, and Matt watched the taillights disappear until the night swallowed them whole. It was late September and the air was chilled. He hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands into his front pockets—it was either that or put them on the woman who stood watching him silently. And that was something he was still deciding on.

“Nice place,” he murmured, eyes on Grace.

Her eyes skittered from his, and she tugged on a long piece of hair that blew in the wind. “It’s a little over the top.”

Matt’s eyebrow shot up at that. A little? Even in the dark he could see that the Tudor style mansion was impressive. Surrounded by a large circular drive, a separate four car garage, and gardens that would make
Home & Garden
subscribers salivate, it was more than just ‘over the top’. It reeked of money—and a lot of it.

“It belongs to Donovan but she and Jack are in Florida so…”

Right. Donovan James, the country singer. She was married to Grace’s brother Jack Simon.

Matt rolled his neck and studied the girl for a few moments. Her face was more angular than he remembered, framed by long dark hair that fell past her shoulders, but those lips were still luscious and soft. Next to his six-four frame, it was easy to think of her as small, yet her athletic build and confident stance screamed anything but. She had lean lines and killer legs. And damn if that tight fitting dress didn’t show off every inch of her.

She cocked her chin a bit and he hid a smile. She was a fireball and his blood heated just thinking of all the things he wanted to do to her. Hell, if she were anyone else, he wouldn’t be hesitating—he’d have had her underwear off in the cab. But the fact that her brother Beau was married to his best friend Betty Jo made things a whole lot complicated. And Matt Hawkins didn’t do complicated. He just wasn’t that guy. She needed to know that.

He cleared his throat. “So what are we doing here, Gracie?”

Her breath caught and her chest fell rapidly as she ran fingers through the tangle of hair at her neck.

“I…” She began, but then paused, her tongue darting out nervously.

“You know where this is headed right?”

She nodded, those big eyes of hers luminous.

“I want you naked.” Her eyes widened slightly at his words but she didn’t move, and she sure as hell didn’t make a sound.

“I want to fuck you from behind and watch you in a mirror while I’m doing it.” The words were rough and he knew it.

That pink tongue licked along the edge of her bottom lip and she cleared her throat as she took a step back. Her breaths fell rapidly, letting off small puffs of warm air.

“I want you to come in my mouth.” He’d always had a taste for dirty, he just wasn’t so sure she was the kind of girl who’d appreciate it.

“You want a lot,” she replied softly.

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“So do I,” she said slowly, as if measuring her words. “I want a lot too.” Something about the tilt of her chin, the look in her eyes got to him.

“Maybe you should think about this, Gracie.”

“I already have.”

Hot blood rushed to his ears, accompanied by a wave of longing and need. It was as strong as it had been two years ago when he’d first laid eyes on her.

“I’m not a nice man. In fact, if you talked to most of the women I’ve been with, they’d tell you I was a selfish bastard.” He should have been surprised by his own admission, but then how could he be surprised by the truth? “I’m not looking for anything other than tonight.”

This was it. Her chance to turn him away. He was almost hoping she would.

“I get that.” She turned toward the garage and took a few steps before pausing.

Don’t do it.
The thought came from somewhere deep inside him. It was a small slice of decency that somehow managed to thrive in spite of what he was. Matt hesitated. And then her voice drifted back to him.

“You coming?”

A heartbeat passed.

Matt followed Grace past the large house, and up a side entrance that led to a loft apartment over the four car garage. She flipped the switch and adjusted the lighting so that it was muted, barely making a dent in the dark shadows that inhabited the place.

Walking across the large open space, she leaned her hip against the shiny granite island, her chest still heaving, her lips still moist, as she gazed across the room at him. She was nervous—he saw that.

The air was thick and he was hot as hell. Matt reached for the lights. He turned the dimmer until the shadows disappeared.

“What are you…”

He smiled wickedly and her words dried up as he strode across the room until he was standing so close to Grace, her subtle scent washed over him.

“I want to see you.” Matt’s nostrils flared and he was already hard when he reached for her and slowly turned her around. He inched closer, sweeping long strands of hair from the back of her neck, and blowing hot air over the exposed skin. She shivered and he grinned wickedly, nuzzling her. “I want to see all of you.”

She braced herself against the granite but that wouldn’t do. Matt pulled her up a bit, smiling when her arms fell to her sides, and he tugged on the zipper that ran the length of her back. Slowy he pulled it down, eyes on the soft, creamy skin.

With another tug he had the dress around her hips and then one more pull had it falling around her ankles.

“Guess pink is my new favorite color,” he murmured appreciatively. He couldn’t resist and grabbed her ass—most of which was not covered by her silky underwear—and he pulled her back against his erection.

“Nice” he murmured. Her butt fit against him perfectly.

His hands slowly made their way up her body, fingers trailing here, massaging there, until he cupped her breasts. Still wrapped in that little bit of pink, he slipped his forefinger inside each of them and traced her pebbled nipples.

“You like that?”

A moan was the answer to his question, and he smiled wickedly, dropping his mouth to the back of her neck. He nipped her there, and undid her bra, turning her around so that she faced him and he could put his mouth on her breasts. His tongue. His teeth.

He tortured her for several long moments, loving how she gyrated against him and when he made his way back up to her mouth, she kissed him back, with an open, hot mouth that made him ache to have her. Matt slid his mouth along

Grace’s jaw and pulled back a bit so that he could see her.

Her breasts were perfect. Ab-so-fucking-lute-ly perfect. Not much more than a handful and topped off with dusky pink nipples that made his mouth water. Her stomach was softly rounded, the way a woman’s should be, and with a wicked grin he slipped his hand inside those damn, sexy pink panties.

“You’re so wet,” he growled against her neck. He slipped a finger inside. “Wet and tight.”

“Matt,” she breathed. She bucked her hips and grabbed his shoulders. “I want more. I want you inside me.”

That had to have been the hottest thing he’d ever heard. Matt kissed her once more and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. Once he had the condom free, he undid his zipper and slipped it over his straining cock.

She yelped when he scooped her into his arms, but went totally quiet when he strode to the sofa and bent her over the edge.

“Watch,” he said roughly, eyes on their reflection in the window.

Matt didn’t wait, he sank into Grace, and moaned, pressing one hand into the small of her back to hold her steady, while he reached around and found her clitoris with his other.

Their eyes met in the window and Matt thought that, hands down, she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. With all that hair, those big amazing eyes, and her mouth open and moaning as he thrust into her—he knew it would be a vision he’d use in the dead of night when he was alone and horny as hell.

“This is not gonna be long,” he whispered hoarsely, smiling when she clenched around him. He played her, loving the slick feel of her. “Let me know when you’re close.”

“I’m almost…” But she couldn’t finish her sentence. Her mouth parted, that delicious tongue of hers sweeping across her lips, and as she gripped him tighter and tighter, he knew that they were both nearly there.

Their bodies strained together and Matt didn’t take his eyes from her as he came. She looked right back at him. So sweet. So earnest. So not up for a one-night-stand.

Regret washed over him as he rested against her and tried to get his breathing back to normal. He was weak. He should have walked away.

Carefully he pulled out and reached for his jeans. He tugged them on and grabbed his T-shirt off the floor before taking a few steps away from her. He checked his phone—pretended to scroll through a few emails—and then shoved the device into his pocket.

He glanced around the loft, noting a few paintings that had to be Shane Gallagher originals, soft overstuffed furniture that was more thrift store than boutique, and a single vase of red tulips in kitchen.

“What are you…are you going?”

Matt took a moment to acknowledge the shame that washed over him. He should have kept his hands off her and now he was going to do what he always did.

He rolled his shoulders and nodded. No use dragging this out. “Yeah.”

There was a pause and he turned around. It was the least he could do. Her bruised mouth trembled slightly, and that amazing mane of hair hung down her shoulders in a tangled mess. Her cheeks were pink and those luminous eyes didn’t leave his. It was easy for him to see the hurt there. She’d grabbed a throw blanket from the sofa and shivered slightly, her pink toenails sharp against the dull gray tile of the floor.

He supposed it said something about him—the fact that he noticed, the fact that he felt like shit because that sure as hell didn’t happen often. He’d warned her, but still…he owed her some kind of explanation.

“This can never work, Gracie. You and me.” He wondered if she heard the regret in his voice.