Page 52 of Matlock
I dropped back into the chair and held my head in my hands. Simon was getting to the end of his patience for my bullshit. Six years was a long time to be someone’s secret. If I weren’t careful, I’d lose him completely.
If I lost Simon, I would be alone for the rest of my life. I knew what I had to do, but I was too chickenshit to do it. So, like every other time we got to this point, I ignored what I knew was the answer and threw myself into work.
Only this time, work was wrapped up around Simon. I was fighting my ass off to save his life, and I was losing there too. Sadie was my only hope. I had to convince her to come forward, tell the judge what really happened, and pray that sacrificing his sister to keep him out of jail didn’t come back and bite me in the ass.
Because if Sadie went to prison for killing Alan, it didn’t matter if I was ready to come out and love him in public. He’d never forgive me for putting his sister at risk.
And I would never forgive myself for breaking his trust and his heart. Simon trusted me to defend him. To do the job I was fucking good at and keep him out of prison. And he wasn’twilling to risk his sister to do it.
So it was all on me. It wasn’t just Simon I had to save. To keep him in my life, I had to save Sadie, too.
The woman who didn’t want to be saved.
The woman he offered to help time and time again, who said no.
The woman who left her brother holding the bag for the man she killed.
Chapter Eighteen
Simon
I got to work making breakfast. It was mechanical, something to do with my hands while my mind raced with unwelcome thoughts. My hand squeezed around the knife handle as I cut up the peppers and onions. Green bell peppers, red onions, a little bit of sharp cheddar cheese waiting in the fridge.
He’d been gone all night, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder where he was. I wasn’t expecting the call from Gary telling me Tony was at the club without me. Though I’d be a fool not to expect the lecture Gary gave me afterward, his voice tight with frustration and concern. It was the same as always, the same words he’d been saying for years now.
I deserved better. Someone who loved me proudly. Someone who loved me openly. Someone who wasn’t afraid to be seen with me in the daylight, not just in the anonymity of the club.
The sliding door creaked on its wheels, and I made a mental note to spray some WD-40 on the mechanism, though I knew I probably wouldn’t remember. Tony had a way of making me forget my own name.
The sound of his footsteps as he walked into the kitchen sent goosebumps over my skin, a physical reaction I couldn’t control even when I was angry at him. It was like that every time he was near me, like my body recognized him on some primal level.
He didn’t have to touch me for my body to respond to him. All I needed was the scent of his cologne. Or the sound of his breathing, slightly ragged like it was now, as if he’d been running or maybe just nervous. Even now, I could feel him behind me, watching me as I prepared food for him, his gaze heavy onmy shoulders.
It was so fucking domestic and the one thing I wanted so badly that my dick was starting to swell. This simple act of making breakfast, of taking care of him, of pretending we were a normal couple on a normal morning.
“I’m making omelets,” I told him as I cracked the eggs into the bowl and mixed them with a fork. I tossed a generous pat of butter onto the flat cast iron pan heating on the stove. My grandmother’s pan, the one she taught me to cook on. It sizzled, and I grabbed an oven pad to hold the hot handle and swirl it around to coat the surface. Automatic movements I didn’t have to think about while I focused on the man behind me.
The air changed as his feet shuffled closer, the energy in the room shifting into something electric. I held my breath, waiting to see what he would do. His heat warmed my back as he reached over and turned off the burner, his arm brushing against mine.
The pan clattered to the stove as I turned and looked into his eyes—those dark brown eyes that had captured me from the first moment I’d seen them.
“I thought you might be hungry,” I said, my hands curling around the counter’s edge, gripping it to keep myself steady.
“I am.”
His lips crashed against mine with an urgency that took my breath away, and my hands went to his waist almost instinctively, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as I pulled him closer, even though part of me knew I should push him away. But I’d never been good at resisting Tony, not since the day we met, and I wasn’t about to start now. Not when his touch set my skin on fire. Not when being this close to him felt like coming home and falling off a cliff at the same time.
His hands slid up my back, pulling me flush against him, and I opened my mouth to let him in deeper. The kiss turned desperate, hungry, all the fear and tension from the night bleeding into something raw and needy. I could taste thecigarettes he’d smoked, feel the scrape of stubble against my jaw as he tilted his head to get a better angle. My fingers found their way under his shirt, splaying across the warm skin of his lower back, and he made a half groan, half growl sound that went straight through me.
“Fuck, Simon,” he breathed against my mouth, his voice rough and wrecked.
“Don’t stop,” I said, cutting him off with another kiss.
His hands moved to my hips, gripping hard enough to bruise, and he pressed me back against the counter. I hoisted myself up onto it without breaking the kiss, spreading my legs so he could step between them. The position put us at the perfect height, and when he pressed against me, I could feel exactly how much he wanted this, wanted me, despite his fucking fear.
“Tony,” I gasped as his mouth moved to my neck, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin just below my ear. My head fell back, giving him better access, and my hands fisted in his hair. “Jesus Christ”
The sound of a key turning in the front door lock cut through the haze of lust like a bucket of ice water.
