Irresistible Attraction: Scenes of Passion / Midnight Seduction / Beyond Control. Justine Davis

exactly how it happened, but when she came up for air, she was no longer wearing her nightgown.

      He ran his hands and his eyes over her body, and Maggie felt the familiar rush of heat to her face as she blushed. Then a deeper, more powerful heat infused her as his mouth found her breast.

      She ran her fingers though Matt’s long, shiny hair, arching her hips up toward him. She could feel him through his shorts, but that wasn’t good enough.

      He clearly thought the same thing, rolling over and, in one quick motion, he yanked them down and kicked his legs free.

      Matt had dropped the condom on the bed, and now he reached for it and put it on. He really didn’t need it—there was no way he could get her pregnant, and he hadn’t been with anyone else in—God, it was years. But it would take too long to explain, and Maggie had been adamant about this not being the right time for conversation.

      He lay beside her and kissed her, intending to take his time. He’d waited so long for this moment. Every minute, every second was going to count.

      But when she opened her mouth to him, when she threw one leg over his hips, he knew he couldn’t wait. And she was just as eager. He was surprised by her strength as she pulled him on top of her.

      She reached for him, guiding him and then…

      Oh, yes.

      She moved with him, breathing his name, kissing him, touching him, surrounding him.

      Time stood still and there was only Maggie, only these incredible sensations she was making him feel. His desire for her blazed through him, his heart pumping fire through his veins. His need consumed him and he heard himself call out her name as she exploded around him, as the rush of his own release nearly stopped his heart.

      She kissed him, so sweetly, so completely, and he knew without a doubt that he would love her until the day that he died.

      Please God, don’t let it be too soon.

      Matt rolled over, pulling her with him so that her head rested on his shoulder. He kissed her again and again, kisses for the sake of kissing, delighting in the softness of her lips, the sweetness of her mouth.

      Her eyes were so filled with love, he nearly wept.

      “I love you,” he whispered.

      She smiled. “I believe you. You’re a good actor, but you’re not that good.”

      Matt laughed, but it faded away as he realized what he had to do now. There was no putting it off any longer. “We have to talk.”

      Maggie sighed, running her fingers across his chest and arms, already starting to make him crazy again.

      He couldn’t do this here. Not like this. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen?” he suggested. “Make a cup of tea?”

      Something in his voice must’ve telegraphed his anxiety, because she sat up. “I’m listening,” she said. “Really.”

      “Can we go downstairs?” he asked.

      She nodded and reached for her nightgown.

      Twelve

      After putting the kettle on the stove, Matt pushed the kitchen windows closed. The night air had gone from cool to cold, with the wind blowing off the sound. Maggie had a sweatshirt on over her nightgown, but she still shivered slightly.

      He sat down at the table, across from her, fiddling with the napkin holder as he tried to figure out how to start.

      “Now that we’re down here,” he said with a laugh, “I’m not sure how to say this.”

      She reached across the table, putting her hands on his. “Whatever you have to say, it can’t be that terrible, can it?”

      He met her eyes. “Mags, it’s about when I went into the hospital. And yes, it’s terrible.”

      She looked down at their hands for a moment, and when she looked back up, into his eyes again, there was so much love on her face, it nearly took his breath away. “You know there’s nothing you can say that will make me stop loving you. Nothing.”

      “I had cancer,” he told her. There. He said it.

      Maggie couldn’t breathe. She stared across the table at him, waiting, hoping, praying for it to be a joke. Any minute now he’d tell her the punchline.

      “I was diagnosed,” Matt said softly, “with Hodgkin’s disease.”

      “Oh, my God,” she whispered. It was indeed a joke, a cruel, horrible joke of fate. “Was? Past tense?”

      “Well, yeah,” he said. Then he shook his head. “No, I don’t want to lie to you.” He looked up at her, his face apologetic, his eyes dark with unhappiness. “The truth is, I hope it’s gone, but I don’t know for sure. It’s been almost a year since I had my last treatment of chemo. The odds of a recurrence are pretty high for the first year—”