Grace focused on it, trying to keep her composure and failing miserably.
“You have no idea about anything. You’re just a little girl. How old are you anyway?” His voice was rough, the edge cutting and cold.
“Old enough to know bullshit when I hear it.”
That surprised him, but he recovered just as quick. “Look, darlin’. We had great sex. Not gonna lie. Great fucking sex. But that’s all it was. So don’t try to make it into anything more. I’m not wired that way. I’m not the guy you bring home to meet your parents. I’m the guy you brought back from the bar because you needed an itch scratched. I’m the guy you had sex with.” He paused. “And I’m the guy who left as soon as I got off because I had no interest in staying. It was just sex. So get over it.”
Grace had to take a moment, because there was a big old lump in the back of her throat and she couldn’t speak. His words hurt—that she couldn’t deny—and as she stood there staring up at him, Matt moved in for the kill.
“I know what you’re doing, Grace. You’re not the first woman to think she could figure me out or fix me and I’m sure you won’t be the last. Most of the time, I just let them think they can. I take what I want before moving on.”
She swallowed that lump in her throat, hoping like hell the tears that stung the corner of her eyes didn’t spill over. No way was she going to cry in front of him.
“You’re a good girl, Grace.”
She slapped at him. “I’m not a girl. Don’t patronize me.”
But that darkness she’d sensed earlier filled his eyes and his mouth was set into a cruel grin.
“I’m not a guy you want to fix. I’m the guy you should be running from. Because I’m the guy who would bend you over that sink and spread your legs as wide as I could. I’m the guy who would yank your pants down, rip off your panties and screw you into next week even though you came here with another man.”
He inched closer still. So close that his body heat scorched her skin. So close that only a whisper separated them. She was trembling and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Holy hell, had she underestimated the power this man had over her.
His breath was warm on her cheek and she squeezed her eyes shut, hating him in that moment. Hating him and wanting him. How insane was that?
“I’m not a good man.”
She thought of the first time she’d met him. Of how he’d walked her sister-in-law Betty Jo down the aisle. He’d been so gentle with Betty. So loving and protective. She thought of that long-ago, winter kiss. Thought of the hunger and need she’d felt inside him. Slowly her eyes opened.
“No. You’re not a nice man, Matt. But you could be.”
A muscle worked its way along his jaw, and he stepped back, swearing under his breath.
“So that’s it?” she challenged. “That’s all you’ve got? I’m a bad man, end of story?”
His cell phone pinged and he scooped it out of his jacket before she could blink. Unbelievable. He glanced at it and frowned, scrolled through a few messages and then shoved it back inside his coat.
“I don’t have time for this Grace. I’m…look I’m sorry about…I’m sorry about everything. I should never have gone back to your place. I…” He made a guttural sound and shook his head. “I’ve got to get back to Rosie.”
Rosie? Red-hot anger washed over her and Grace thumped him in the chest—hard. So hard that he rocked back on his heels.
“Who the hell is Rosie?” she snapped, thumping him again. My God, she thought. How many women was he juggling?
Matt caught her hands up in his and swore again, barely avoiding her knee in his groin. But Grace was beyond being rational. Sasha. Now Rosie? She kicked at him again, suddenly wanting to hurt him as much as his words hurt her.
“Calm the hell down,” Matt barked, his mouth close to her ear. “Dammit, they can probably hear you all the way to the bar.”
“I don’t care,” she ground out, shoving at him. Winded, she exhaled and tried to shove a thick chunk of hair from her face. She moved her arm and stilled, slowly becoming aware of just how intimately she was pressed into Matt.
She turned her head slightly and froze,