A voice inside his head screamed, Don’t let her go. You don’t have to let her go.
Could that be true?
They lived hours apart. He was out of the country more than he was in, and she deserved someone who would be there. That wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.
Chapter 11
Abby sat under the beach umbrella, unable to take her eyes off Matt’s body as he ran and threw the football with Jack. She knew what he felt like now: hot and smooth with pure steel underneath.
Jack screeched and laughed when Matt grabbed him up with the ball and ran through knee-high water to an imaginary goal line.
“Mom, did you see that?” Jack ran toward her from the water. “Matt threw me the highest ever and I still didn’t drop the ball. Even in the water I didn’t drop it.”
She smiled at her son. “I saw.” It was a running theme with Jack today. The biggest castle, the longest throw—as if everything about today had to be the best because it was the last.
The last day meant goodbyes, and she hated goodbyes. Couldn’t count the number she’d said and heard. Foster parents. Friends. Schools.
Needing to do something, she stood and gathered the toys before walking to the water to check on Annie and Gracie. She laid the shovels and Barbie next to their mound of sand and straightened. Heavy hands settled on her bare shoulders and she felt Matt’s warm presence behind her.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” She nodded but the word caught in her throat. Would they keep in touch? Did she want to? Would she worry every second he was in danger? Would she even know if he’d been killed? A rush of icy cold ran through her.
Without thinking, she turned and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him as tightly as she could. She wanted to burrow inside him, put her lips against his skin. His arms came around her immediately and she closed her eyes, absorbing him, feeling for one second like they were a chain that couldn’t be broken.
But they weren’t. And they could.
Matt and Jack did their hand-jiving slaps and bumps, a routine so long and complicated it took five tries to get it right.
“Extremely awesome,” she said. The bright smile on her son’s face was even more awesome. She tried not to notice Matt’s smile, equally bright.
“We have to teach it to Mom. I need it for luck before the games, and she doesn’t know any moves.”
“I have moves,” she said. “Jack just doesn’t like them.”
Jack gave Matt a guy-to-guy look. “They’re girl moves.”
“Why would you say that?” she asked, feigning extreme offense.
Jack gave her a duh look. “Because you’re a girl.”
Matt tried to cover his laugh. “Well, he does have a point.”
She raised her eyebrows at Matt.
“Dude. You’re getting me in trouble. Don’t you know the last thing you say to a girl is she does stuff like a girl?”
“But she is a girl,” Jack said, thoroughly confused.
“Come on. This girl needs to put more sunscreen on your back.”
“Mom.” He drew out her name in protest. “Why doesn’t Matt have to get that all the time?”
“He’s a grown-up.”
“I do.”
They’d spoken at the same time, but she didn’t look at Matt, just led Jack to stand in front of her chair and coated his skin. Matt followed, and even behind dark glasses, she felt him watching her.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” Matt called after Jack, who was already running away, probably feeling triumphant she’d forgotten to do his face.
But she forgot everything whenever Matt focused his attention on her the way he was now. Intense and hot, like he was slipping inside her mind. Maybe even inside her soul.
He sat in front of her chair, and her thighs parted automatically to accommodate his big body.
“I don’t want to burn,” he said.
There was little chance of that, but she’d take any excuse to touch him.
The second she smoothed her lotion-covered hands across his back, he lowered his head and sighed. She did the same on the inside.
Matt’s skin was hot and hard beneath her hands. She fanned her fingers out and over his shoulders, feeling the strength, tracing the scars. She passed the point of protecting him from the sun and moved to another place, somewhere she couldn’t stop herself from going.
His hands rose to circle her ankles. He slid his palms higher, his thumbs stroking her calves. She held in a moan at the sensation of his hands on her body. Anywhere on her body. He would be slow and thorough, and…she’d be saying goodbye in less than twelve hours.
Abby closed her eyes and gave in to her need to feel him. Becoming even bolder, she slid her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, felt the hard, defined ridges. Silky hair swirled around flat nipples. She touched and explored, then moved back up, repeating her course, mesmerizing herself, until he stilled her hands.