Staking His Claim (Line of Duty #5)(38)

So what the hell was he doing here? He should by lying low, letting her move on and get ready for Paris. Only, her left-behind itinerary had taunted him from his kitchen table. Sunset Salsa 6:00, Lincoln Center. He’d tried to stay away. He really had. But the thought of letting her fly thousands of miles away without an explanation didn’t work for him. He needed her to understand why he’d backed off when he’d really wanted to drag her onto his lap and beg her to stay in New York.

Matt had come for another reason, though. One that pumped in his blood and refused to listen to rational thought. The idea of Lucy dancing outdoors, around other males…basically, that didn’t f*cking fly with him. No matter how many times he told himself it was none of his business.

What the hell are you going to do about it? You don’t dance. She won’t even look at you.

He’d lose his goddamn mind. That’s what he would do.

She swayed to the Latin music, watching closely as the instructor explained the basic moves. In a red sundress that outlined her breasts, belly, and hips, hair swept off her neck in a clip, she looked like a delicious piece of forbidden fruit.

Matt wanted to devour her in one bite.

It was more than that, though. Her look of concentration, the way she moved her mouth as if repeating the instructor’s words under her breath…he could watch her all day and never tire of it. She made him want to f*ck. To lay his head in her lap and listen to her talk. To shake her until she admitted it would never work between them.

Yet forbidden was the only way to describe her. Forbidden to him. Not the endless stream of men who would flock to her positive energy wherever she went. Until she picked one of the bastards and decided to give him her trust, her body. Her smile. The very idea of it made him want to repeatedly slam his head against the steering wheel of his car.

He should leave. Now. Just put the car in drive and pull away. Too bad he couldn’t even fool himself into thinking that was a possibility. He’d come here knowing exactly what would happen. Any second now, some * would try to dance with her and he’d be there to stop it. Didn’t have a choice in the matter. Maybe when she moved across the Atlantic, he’d be able to deal with the idea of her with someone else. Someone who wasn’t him.

Not likely.

Until she left New York, however, the possessiveness she’d coaxed to life inside of him had started making the decisions. The drumming in his chest that insisted she was his steadily picked up its pace. A muscle ticked in his jaw, counting the seconds.

Then it happened. Dancers began to pair off. He saw two men converge on her at once and didn’t wait to see any more. He threw the car in drive and entered an underground pay parking structure located on the adjacent side street. After parking in the first available spot, which much to his frustration ended up being all the way in back, he exited the vehicle at a fast clip. When the attendant came forward to take his keys, he flashed his badge and kept walking. The halogen lights above him gave off an electrical buzz, matching the one sounding in his head.

His pace didn’t slow as he rounded the corner and the quad filled with dancers came into view. He saw Lucy immediately, standing out as she did in her red dress. She threw her head back, laughing at something the man in front of her said. The man who was standing far too close.

The man who was at least ninety.

Matt stopped at the edge of the quad. When Lucy looked over at him sharply, he realized he’d been laughing. That brought him up short. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so loud. So freely. It felt unnatural. It felt…really good. His feet started moving before he’d made a conscious decision, only knowing he needed to be near her. She watched him approach warily, appearing to do her best to pay attention to her partner.

The closer he got, the louder his heart pounded. “Lucy.” God, it felt good just to say her name out loud. Some of the pressure drained from his chest.

She raised a single eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Can we talk?”

“Not right now.” She nodded at her partner. “I’m dancing with Maurice.”

Maurice saluted him. “Is she yours?”

Yes. The answer boomed inside his head, but didn’t translate to his lips. He didn’t know how Lucy would react. Furthermore, he knew if he said it out loud, it would be so. There would be no going back, and she couldn’t be his.

That momentary hesitation caused Lucy’s cheeks to flush red. “Go away, Matt.”

Maurice shook his head, then turned to Lucy. “I have a grandson. He’s a musician, though,” he added in a warning tone.

“Does he dance?”

“Honey, that’s all he does.”

She shot a pointed look at Matt. “Sold.”

A couple dancing behind him nearly plowed into him, so he stepped closer to Lucy. “I understand why you’re upset, but what happened…it was for the best.”

…

The studio audience inside Lucy’s head erupted in a series of boos and hisses. Even the host shook his head sadly, letting the microphone drop to his thigh.

She had the sudden urge to take off her high heels and hurl them at Matt, screaming obscenities and cursing him to a lifetime of blue balls. Instead, she kept her smile firmly in place and did her honest best to ignore him. Not an easy accomplishment when he stood there looking so climbable. Where did he get off filling out a black T-shirt and jeans like that? As if a tailor had sewn them onto him, leaving just the right amount of room to accommodate the cut muscles of his arms, chest, and legs, even better than his uniform normally did. She had a sudden memory of running her hands up those sculpted pecs, how they’d flexed beneath her fingers. How much he’d liked it.