His chest was plastered to her back, her leg pulled high on his hip, opening her to his possession as he stroked her intimately. Instinctively, she braced her hand on the bed and pushed back on him. She wanted to wake every day just this way, to his hands on her, his breath flirting with her hair, his body buried deep.
He groaned and flexed inside her, his erection a throb that made her ache for more. Her breath came faster, matching the rhythm of his body inside her and the swirl of his fingers between her thighs.
How could her body keep burning hotter? How could these sensations keep intensifying?
There was no one like Matt. No one who’d ever made her feel the things he did. No one who’d made her matter with his words, his body, his kiss, his touch.
“Please, baby,” he begged her. “Take me with you.”
In the darkness, his hands and his kisses taking her higher, it was his words that released her—knowing that, just like her, he needed to beg, to plead to be taken in and held tight.
And when she plummeted over the edge, crying out her pleasure, the ultimate pleasure was taking him into that crazy, wild plunge right along with her.
Chapter Twenty
The next morning, the touch of Matt’s hands over hers made Ari feel that everything would be all right—even as they turned onto Mrs. Sanchez’s street and faced the unknown.
She hadn’t expected this neighborhood. She’d always thought of Bakersfield as a cow town, with farms and stockyards and fields. But the houses in this neighborhood were mansions. Not in Matt’s class, but certainly way above Ari’s or Zach Smith’s. The lawns were green even after a thirsty summer, and tall, stately trees flanked long driveways.
Mrs. Sanchez lived in a two-story home with dormer windows and a circular drive. Matt parked beneath the portico and took Ari’s hand as they climbed the steps to the double-wide front door. The knocker was as shiny as gold.
“I wonder how Gideon felt walking up these stairs.” Probably as out of place as she felt the first time she’d set foot inside Matt’s mansion.
She wouldn’t have been surprised if a butler had opened the door, but they were greeted by an elegant woman, her gray hair piled stylishly and her olive complexion made up tastefully. Her blue pantsuit fit her graceful curves as though it had been hand designed.
“Miss Jones?”
“Yes.” Ari stuck out her hand. “And this is my friend, Matt Tremont.”
They shook, then Mrs. Sanchez flourished her hand, stepping aside for them to enter. “Please,” she said with a smile. “Come in. I’m so glad you called.”
In the spacious tiled foyer, fresh flowers adorned a table, potted plants stood in the corners, and a wide, carpeted stairway led to the second floor. She ushered them through double doors into a large, sunny lounge already set with a coffee service. The atmosphere was completely different from Zach Smith’s home, and yet, it was just as welcoming. Matt sat beside Ari on the couch while Mrs. Sanchez poured.
“Gideon was such a nice man. It was so thoughtful of him to come see us. My husband was still alive at the time, and I can’t tell you how much your brother’s visit meant.”
“We’re very sorry for your loss,” Ari said, her throat tight. She knew the trauma of losing someone you loved. Especially family. And this woman had lost both husband and daughter.
“Thank you, dear. Now, why don’t you tell me how I can help?”
Ari held her coffee cup but didn’t drink from it. “I’ve been looking for Gideon since he got out of the Army.”
“Goodness, you haven’t seen him since then?”
Mrs. Sanchez put a hand to the pearls at her throat. Ari guessed her to be in her mid-sixties, with the same Latina coloring as Rosie. Her voice was cultured, and she wore a gold band of diamonds on her left hand.
“No, ma’am. In fact, I haven’t seen him since he joined up when I was eight.”
“That’s far too long,” she said sympathetically. “I wish I could lead you to him, but though he used to call me every year or so, I haven’t heard from him in…oh, at least two years.” Her eyes deepened with sadness.
Matt took Ari’s hand as if he knew exactly how hard it was not to let the disappointment creep over her. As she’d told him last night, she was thrilled to have learned so much about Gideon. And she wasn’t about to give up.
“Did he ever say where he was when he called?”
“He didn’t, I’m afraid. I collected these pictures for you, though.” Mrs. Sanchez leaned forward, pulling a manila envelope from beneath the coffee tray. “Your brother was such a good man. He brought some photos of Karmen that he thought we’d like to have.” She held the envelope on her lap a moment. “We were so proud of her. After 9/11 she wanted to do something for her country. We lost a nephew when the towers went down. She was in high school then, and she’d always wanted to be a nurse. We got her to agree to go to college first.” She fingered her pearls again. “Perhaps I was hoping she would change her mind along the way, but she signed up before she graduated.” Her sigh was deep and filled with sorrow. “I was afraid from the moment she was deployed. But you have to let your children follow their path, no matter how much you fear for them.”