Matt swallowed back the bile that always accompanied the memory. “I think any man who had you for his little girl would be the luckiest man in the world.”
Her brows knitted together and she tilted her head the slightest bit. “Do you feel wucky?”
His heart cracked under the increasing pressure, but Gracie didn’t stay for an answer, just gave him her brightest smile and scooted to the ground.
While he struggled to put himself back together, Abby shook her head.
“Matt…I don’t know what to say. I don’t know why she said that. I can’t imagine what you must be thinking.”
No, she definitely couldn’t.
“I mean we’ve completely monopolized your vacation. The kids have been all over you every second and—”
“Abby, do you honestly think I couldn’t have outmaneuvered a group of preschoolers if I’d wanted to be alone?” But avoid the woman looking at him with big green eyes? He’d never had a chance.
He abruptly stood and held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
Matt guided them within watching distance of the kids, pulled her in close, and held her like he’d wanted to for so long. He savored the feel of her in his arms, loving the dress, which left her smooth skin bare for his touch. He brought their joined hands to his chest, his thumb rubbing lazily over the back of hers, and they swayed gently to the soft lyrics about holding on and leaving.
Fitting, since all he wanted was to hold on, and all he could do was leave.
Laying his cheek against her hair, he breathed her in, a hint of vanilla, but mostly just Abby’s own unique smell. One he loved. She eased her hand up and around his neck, her fingers sliding into the hair at his nape.
She was his, at least for the moment, and in his arms. He surrounded her, and even though she was small, she surrounded him. Fit against him like she was made to be there. The rest of the world faded away until there was nowhere else he’d rather be. Not with his team, not with his family. Nowhere. Six days. Six fucking days he’d had with her. It seemed like a second, and like a lifetime.
Matt sifted his fingers through her silky hair, letting the strands fall over the back of his hand like water. He found her neck warm and damp, imagined putting his mouth there. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, moved into him until he felt her full breasts against his chest, her belly against his.
When he feathered his lips over the bare skin of her shoulder, she trembled and tightened her hold. He fought against the urge to fist her hair in his hand, pull her head back and kiss her with all the pent-up desire running through him. To show her she was his.
Then he thought about how soon this would end. How she would be out of his arms and he would never touch her like this again. The music rose in a crescendo, and so did their awareness of each other. His fingers on her lower back contracted, holding her tighter, more desperately.
And he knew. Knew without a doubt, he was holding his heart and soul in his arms. And he never wanted to let her go.
—
The final notes of the song hung in the air, and Abby sensed couples leaving the dance floor. The singer said thank you; the band packed up equipment. It was over. The last day. The last song. She reluctantly lifted her head from his shoulder, but neither let go. His hand stayed at her back, her arms remained wrapped around his shoulders. Everything in her was wound so tightly she shook with it as she locked eyes with the man who’d held her closer and longer than she’d ever been held before.
Charlie barreled headfirst into Matt, wrapping both arms around his leg and forcing space between them.
Jack tugged on her hand. “Mom, can we walk on the beach? Pleeese.”
The night breeze picked up a strand of her hair and blew it across her lips. They both reached for it and their fingers touched. Another jolt.
“Yeah, Mom,” Matt said, mimicking Jack, though his eyes weren’t laughing. “Please.”
How could she say no to a few more minutes with him?
They dropped their shoes and walked a ways before stopping to admire the long strip of white reflecting off the water like a bright path to the full moon. The kids dipped their toes one last time. Matt pulled her back against him, his body warm, his big hands covering her belly.
She felt everything with a heightened awareness: The heat from Matt’s body seeping through her skin and into her blood. The silky fabric of her dress blowing against her legs. The cool sand under her bare feet and the sound of the surf that muffled the children’s nearby voices.
He lowered his head until his smooth cheek brushed hers. His palms stroked and caressed. “You think she’s awake?”
“Maybe.” She ran her fingers lightly through the hair on his forearms until she covered his hands with her own. The baby moved more when she was lying down, but he was close and she liked his hands where they were.