Page 178 of Original Sin

The air charged magically as their faces drew towards one another in unison until his lips brushed against hers. A voice of resistance yelled from somewhere deep inside her. Stop! Slow down! her mind told her, wanting her mouth to protest. But this was what she wanted. This, and nothing else.

‘Was that my present?’ she gasped as he pulled momentarily away from her.

He gave a slow, sexy smile. ‘No. It’s a coffee machine, but hopefully you like this better … ’

His strong arm circled her small waist as he pulled her closer. His lips crushed down on hers once more and she felt powerless to resist. His tongue searched inside her mouth and she closed her eyes, every nerve ending igniting in pure liquid desire, as she felt unable to process anything beyond the exquisite pleasure of his lips on her skin.

Still entangled in his arms, she shrugged off her coat and he pulled her into the bedroom. The door shut and he pushed her against it. She grabbed the nape of his neck and probed her fingers through his short thick hair, feeling his hard cock push towards her through the fabric of his jeans. Separating for an instant, his fingers unbuttoned her blouse, letting the fabric flutter to the floor, while she pulled his jumper over his head, stroking her hand across his dark, wiry scrub of chest hair. He gave a low moan, before his lips stroked her neck and shoulders. Pushing her onto the bed he straddled her, cupping and rolling her breast in his hand. Her nipple flinched and hardened as his flesh touched the tight dark beige skin through the lace fabric of her bra. His hands pushed down her ribcage until his fingers could unbuttons her jeans. Involuntarily she parted her legs. He kissed the hollow of her neck, slowly moving his mouth down towards her tanned, taut belly, savouring every inch of skin until it descended into the deep V–shape of her unbuttoned denim. His lips sent a ribbon of fire to her hot, wet core. She felt drugged with desire. She wanted him inside her; she wanted him to taste her. She wanted to feel her hard, tight nipples between his soft lips, she wanted his tongue to stroke and suck her secret slit. His hands began to pull down her jeans. Her eyes half closed in lust, she looked at him, the strong familiar jaw line, the long lashes framing green intelligent eyes, his

handsome features, and saw … David.

‘No,’ she screamed suddenly, as a wave of guilt crashed over her, sucking her desire away like the ocean pulling sand away from the shore.

‘No, Matt, I’m sorry, we can’t,’ she gasped, rolling away from him and shaking.

‘I’m engaged, I’m getting married next week, this is wrong,’ she said with an emphasis she did not feel.

He rubbed his hands disappointedly across his lips. ‘Is it?’ he asked bitterly.

She swung off the bed and pulled on her blouse hurriedly, her cheeks flushing with shame.

Silence rang around the room. Matt was unsmiling. ‘Do you love him?’ he said finally.

She hesitated, not wanting to hurt him, but not wanting to lie to him either.

‘So the answer is yes,’ he pre–empted regretfully. ‘And are you going to marry him?’

Thinking of the wedding she felt a hollowness and detachment. She didn’t know what she wanted at the moment. A few moments ago, all you wanted was Matt, she told herself, shutting her eyes in grim helplessness. What a mess.

‘How can I not?’ she said, her voice cracking with regret. ‘It’s a big oil tanker careering towards its final destination. How do you stop that?’ she asked, daring to wonder if she wanted to stop it.

‘You could come with me to Ghana.’

She gave a low, slow laugh.

‘Now there’s a solution,’ she said, looking at him. ‘Running away to Africa.’

She saw hurt flicker in his dark blue eyes and she understood why he was going to Africa: he was running away too. She didn’t know if he was tired of New York and the endless stress of the ER, or whether the truth was that he had never got over the death of his wife. She felt almost certain it had nothing to do with Susie, but maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with her.

‘Okay, if not Africa,’ said Matt, ‘how about Paris or London or LA? You said you loved it in LA.’

She zipped her jeans, not daring to look at him. ‘Matt, stop it please. I do love David.’

He stood up and took her hand, spinning her round to face him.

‘And I love you, Brooke, I always have. You never gave me the chance to show you how great we could be together, but it’s not too late.’

‘I’m getting married in six days’ time, Matt.’

‘So?’ he said, gripping his fingers into her arms. ‘Call it off. Do what you want to do. Not what everyone wants you to. Break the cycle, Brooke.’

She shrugged him off, suddenly flinching at his touch. Pulling open the bedroom door she grabbed her coat and bag, feeling the walls of Matt’s small apartment close in on her.

‘I have to go,’ she mumbled.

‘Think about it, Brooke. Think about it.’

But she was already out of the door.