A Moment of Truth: A Complete Bonus Set (A Matter of Trust #1-2) (43 page)

“Did you ever think it’s hard for me, too? To believe you love me for me?” His voice is quiet and pained. It’s a dagger straight to my heart.

I shake my head in reply. “I’m so sorry, Dan.” I hope he won’t pull away, but I reach out and take his hand anyway.

Squeezing it hard, he pulls me close and hugs me tight. He whispers in my ear, “I’m crazy about you.”

I whisper back, “Flaws and all? Because I have a lot of them, and they’re leaking out all over you and everything else. I’m making a mess of things.”

He pulls back to look at me, but his hands remain tight on my waist while my hands are crossed behind his neck. “Flaws and all, yes. I like your mess.” He smiles gently, and I kiss him. He seems surprised by the kiss. “I’m happy you came here.”

“Me, too. I love that you ran down the stairs.”

He blushes and rolls his eyes, like he’s embarrassed about it. “Well, I was surprised. Thought maybe I was hearing things because you wouldn’t answer my calls or anything—you’re stubborn.”

“I am not.”

“Ha! Yes, you are. Tell me, did Camille or Bridget have to force you on a plane?”

“Those bitches! Did they call you? They promised they wouldn’t!”

“No, they didn’t, but I’m right, aren’t I? You had to be forced! See? You’re stubborn.” He’s got a smug smile aimed at me.

I tip my head back in laughter and defeat. “Okay, fine—they pushed me onto the plane. At least it wasn’t out of the plane.”

“Now that would be a real mess.”

I grab him and hug him close, holding him for a long few minutes. “Are we okay now?”

He rubs my back as we embrace. “Yes, we are.”

I shift to kiss him, and in no time, we’re the epicenter of volcanic passion. Breathless, I break our kiss and step back, out of his reach. “Oh my God. That was intense. People are probably watching.” I glance around, but the street is quiet and empty.

He’s flushed, and he runs his hand through his hair. “Who the fuck cares? As far as I’m concerned, our dating is public knowledge. Next time I’m on a show, I’m telling.” He reaches forward and snatches me close, coming at me again with those soft lips, kissing me into oblivion. My knees grow weak, while my hands, of their own accord, worm their way inside his open coat and slip under his shirt, where his muscles, as strong and ripped as ever, quiver at my touch. I scratch down his spine, and he moans in my mouth. His hands are quick to follow, unbuttoning my coat and slipping his hands up inside my thick sweater. He fiddles with my bra hook in the back. I step away again, this time a little farther. “Oh my God, we have to stop. We’re on the sidewalk!”

He shakes his head at me, like I’m nuts. “It’s hours before we can be alone at my house. Fucking hours. I need you. Now.”

“Dan! We can’t fuck on the street!” I laugh—he’s shameless!

“Why not? No one’s around.” He glances in all directions.

I’m giggling and keeping him at arm’s length. “You’re going to have to be patient.”

“Impatience is one of my flaws.” He shrugs playfully.

Shaking my head, I smile, and say, “Flaws. We must accept our flaws.”

“I don’t want to accept my flaws.” His eyes are mischievous yet intense, and that soap-and-shaving cream scent is beckoning me closer.
Dear Lord.
I back farther away.

He’s advancing quickly and laughing.

I squeak and begin sprinting down the street. He’s so close behind me. He grabs for my coat, but misses. I squeal with laughter. “Come back!” he yells.

I reach the yellow door of his family’s home and tear through it, stopping in the foyer. I bend over, leaning on my knees, trying to catch my breath. He barrels inside not a moment later, catching his breath, too. Gabrielle enters the foyer, her face amused.

“Do I even want to know why you’re out of breath?” she asks.

Dan straightens up. “Nope!”

We spend the afternoon with his family, alternating between eating and lying around on the squishy-soft sofas in front of a crackling fire. It’s just about the most perfect Christmas I could have imagined.

Of course, when Dan excuses himself to the bathroom, Gabrielle and Charlotte plop on either side of me and break out the photo album Dan warned me about. They begin flipping through the pages of the funniest photos I’ve seen of Dan, but when he comes back in, he’s irate and tries to grab the album away. We all swat at him. His face says angry, but the slight smile he’s trying to suppress says amused. 

Probably not soon enough for Dan, his mom announces it’s time for presents, to which Dan responds, “Thank God.” He wastes no time to grab my hand and lift me from between his sisters. He makes a face at them and they giggle maniacally. He sets us down in an oversized, overstuffed love seat.

Presents are exchanged with everyone ooh-ing and ahh-ing at each gift—sweaters, throws, slippers, etc. Unexpectedly, his mother presents me with something, too. “Oh!” I’m touched. I open it—it’s a gorgeous silver frame. “This is beautiful! Thank you so much.”

“Now stand up, you two. Go over by the tree,” his mother says, taking out her camera. Dan and I stand and maneuver to the tree. “For the frame, of course,” she says with a wink.

Dan slings an arm over my shoulder, and I wrap my arm around his waist.

His mother takes an inordinate amount of time fiddling with the camera while we stand there holding our smiles. “Mum, stop aiming and just take it,” he says with a frozen smile.

She clicks. “Lovely. You two are such a striking pair,” she says, looking at the preview then sharing it with us.

“She makes me look good,” Dan says with a kiss to my forehead. I squeeze him tightly. Dan sits back on the love seat.

“I have something for you, too. I’ll be right back—it’s still in my bag.” I head to grab my purse that I left in the foyer then back to the living room. I pull the small, square package out of my purse and give it to his mom, who is sitting next to Dan’s dad.

“Oh, thank you, Claire. You didn’t have to get us a gift.” She begins unwrapping it.

“It’s just a little something.” I sit next to Dan on the loveseat.

His mom finishes unwrapping the box and opens the top. “Oh wow,” she says, lifting the crystal snowflake ornament. The lights from around the room make it sparkle. “This is stunning—and so heavy! Here, put it on the tree, Brian.” She hands it to Dan’s dad.

“Oh! It’s got a C engraved on it.” He stands and places it on an upper branch.

“‘C’ for Chase,” I say.

His mom leans over and touches my knee. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for having me, and for the gift.”

“Our pleasure.”

“What did Dan get you?” Gabrielle asks.

“He and I haven’t exchanged gifts yet.”

“Well, let’s go, then,” she says, rubbing her hands together.

Dan gets up and grabs a rectangular box from under the tree. It’s about the size and shape of my Kindle, and it’s expertly wrapped in gold paper with a perfectly tied gold bow.

All eyes are on me, and the anticipation buzzes in the room. His sisters sit on the edge of the sofa, as does his mom. With nervous fingers, I untie the bow, unwrap it, and carefully lift the top to find a delicate, double-layer necklace. On the upper layer, tiny stars are strung every couple of inches; on the lower layer dangles a single crescent moon, filled with tiny diamonds. I gasp, watching it sparkle. “Oh my God, this is incredible!” I turn to look at him, and he’s wearing a proud smile.

“Let me put it on you.”

“Wait, let me see it,” Gabrielle says, reaching over to hold it. “Are those real diamonds in there?” Gabrielle asks, her mouth dropping a bit.

“Yes.”

“And is it silver?”

“White gold,” Dan responds.

“And you picked this out yourself?”

“Yes,” Dan says, sounding offended.

Gabrielle raises her eyebrows. “I’m really impressed, Dan. This is gorgeous,” Gabrielle says, handing it to Dan. There are murmurs of agreement from his other sister and mother, too.

Dan seems extra satisfied.

He removes the necklace from the box and I turn my back to him, twisting my hair up out of the way. He gently places it over my head and clasps it in the back. I look down at it as I scoot straight again. “This is just stunning. Thank you.”

“Do the stars and moon have a significance?” his mom asks.

Dan shifts in his seat, and I wonder if he had wanted to give this to me when we were alone. “Uh . . . well—”

“Oh, just spit it out,” Charlotte says, smiling.

He looks at me as he says, “Well, Claire and I spend a lot of nights apart, and I want her to remember that every night apart I’m thinking of her.”

I throw my arms around him, hugging him hard. “I love you,” I whisper in his ear.

“I love you, too.”

“I have to give you yours.” I pull away and reach into my purse, and then hand him a regular white envelope.

He furrows his brow in confusion. “Interesting.”

“Well, it’s not as impressive as this,” I say, stroking my new necklace. “But what do I get a guy who can buy himself anything?”

With an excited grin, he opens the envelope and pulls out the photo. It takes him a moment, and he’s clearly still confused when he says, “It’s a photo of my refrigerator.”

“It’s actually a photo of your open freezer, which I packed with dinners I made for you—so you don’t have to order out and can eat home-cooked food more often. All of them are labeled, and there are heating directions taped to each one, too.”

He bursts out laughing. “This is the best gift I have ever gotten! When did you do that? My entire freezer is full. It’s never full.”

God, I love making him happy.
“I know! I did it when I stayed at your house—when I had to meet with David in L.A. and you were on promo a couple of weeks back.”

“What a great idea, Claire! I’ve been on him for ages about learning to cook for himself. I hate to think he’s eating cheeseburgers and pizza all the time,” his mom says.

“Me, too, and although I’ve tried, he can’t stop eating Lucky Charms cereal for some reason.” I sigh and shake my head dramatically.

“What? You’re the one who got me started on that!” He nudges my shoulder.

***

The late afternoon turns to evening and everyone’s fading quickly from the full day. “I’m going take Claire upstairs,” Dan says, clasping my hand and leading me up the stairs. “I think my dad already took your bag up.”

I nod and follow along up the steps. He stops at the first door on the left. “This is my old bedroom.”

I enter with eyes wide—this is where he grew up! The rich mahogany floors are a gorgeous contrast to the icy blue walls. To my left, two long windows sit tucked inside alcoves with a single, small closet between them. There’s a queen-sized four-poster bed in the center of the room, with a fluffy, down blanket that screams, “Soft and cozy!”

“Wow, great room.”

“Thanks. My mum got rid of pretty much everything I had in here. I had posters on the walls that drove her insane, so she tore those off the moment I got my place in L.A. Redecorated it.”

“That’s funny, because my mother kept my room exactly as I left it.” As if she’s always waiting for my failures to return me to her. I shudder, shake it off, and then grab my bag and begin wheeling it from the room. “Come tuck me in.”

“Where are you going?” Dan asks.

“Downstairs on the couch to sleep. You said this was your room.”

He blinks at me, wordless, and then bursts into laughter.

“What?”

“You—” He can’t stop laughing to speak. I wait with my hand on my hip. “You aren’t sleeping downstairs, Claire. You’re sleeping in here.”

“Where are you sleeping?”

He wipes his eyes. “Here.”

“You mean we’re both sleeping here? What about your family?”

“Well, they won’t all fit.” He cracks up all over again.

“Your parents don’t mind us sharing a bed? Geez. My parents would have a chastity belt tightly secured with an alarm set.” Smiling, I lean on my suitcase handle to wait out his laughter.

“Claire—” He gasps for air. “I know your mum is old-fashioned but—” He cannot stop laughing.

I start laughing, too, but then I swat at him. “Stop poking fun at me!”

He’s still laughing when all of a sudden he snatches me up in his arms, locking my arms to my sides. The next thing I know, he’s throwing me onto the bed and scrambling on top of me, pinning me down. “Listen, you insane Yank, it’s time for me to show you Big Ben.”

“Oh my God, you did not just call your dick Big Ben.”

“Oh yes, I did, because that’s how we do things in London.” He leans down to kiss me, but I pull away to stop him.

“If we’re going to be all official about it, then shouldn’t we have a spot of tea before we fuck?” I say the last part with an English accent.

He shakes his head at me, amused. “We’ll have tea after my Big Ben gets the grand tour of your Buckingham Palace, and we’ll follow that up with a trip to Westminster Abbey where you’ll be singing loud praises to God. So, strap in and hold on tight, Yank. It’s been fucking weeks, and I’m not waiting another second.”

Our mouths are hard and fast, shouting that singular message:
Now! Now! Now!

Our bodies twist and turn, and hands round all the bases. I can’t get him close enough or naked fast enough. From under him, I tug at his sweater, and he shifts for me to remove it. A wave of his heady scent hits me hard, driving me wild. I reach for the button and zipper on his pants, but he’s at my sweater first, ready to whip it over my head. I lean up to oblige, yet I make sure he’s careful of my necklace.

I go for his pants again, and he goes for mine. We’re removing each other’s clothes like they’re on fire, but no, it’s just our bodies that are engulfed in flame. With clothing unbuttoned, unzipped, and free, we strip off the remaining bits, and finally, skin to skin, we swivel and swerve together on his fluffy bed, passion surging like high tide in a hurricane.

I try to gain footing to switch positions with him, but he presses my arms down and inches his way from my chin to my neck and finally stopping at my breasts with his magnificent mouth. It’s the sexiest thing to watch his tongue dart out and circle around my nipples before his lips suck and kiss them into sharp peaks. My back arches, as I savor each heavenly stroke. Soon enough, he’s on the move. He scoots down a bit on the bed to kiss my upper belly before he works his way to my lower belly, and then lower and lower and lower until he’s right there, teasing me with flicks of his tongue so close to where I crave them. He’s pressing my thighs apart as he torments me, and I moan in desperate need.

“I think I need a . . . taste . . .” he says, husky and deep, then dives in, sampling in every direction. My thighs are shaking as he raises my body to the very peak of ecstasy.

But then he stops.

“No, not yet,” he says, rising onto his knees and licking his lips.

“What? Why?” I mutter, delirious.

Grabbing my legs, he pushes my knees to one side and pulls at my hips, silently shifting me to doggy-style. I’m on all fours when I hear him groan just before he swats my ass.

“Ow!” I say with a giggle.

He slips inside me and begins to pound away, hard. I’d be one hundred percent into it if the bed wasn’t shaking and banging—loudly—against the wall.

“Shh,” I say, tapping his leg.

He briefly stops and leans into my ear. “I don’t give a fuck, remember?” He leaves my nose full of his scent, shifts behind me again, and continues, hammering away.

“But your family—they’ll think—”

He stops again and says, “You aren’t allowed to talk right now. Trust me, no one can hear shit.”