“I just wanted to see you.”
“Why?”
“I heard about you and Chloe.”
“How?”
“I don’t understand.”
“How could you know about me and Chloe? Paige isn’t speaking to you, and Chloe sure as hell wouldn’t confide in you. Unless…” His hand dropped to his side, a look of admiration creeping into his eyes. “Unless you’re the one who tipped off Chloe.”
“Tipped her off about what?”
He laughed. “You’ve been a very bad girl,” he said, his voice a low growl she found almost unbearably sexy. “Haven’t you…Mrs. Turner?” His hand reached between her legs. “Well, well,” he said. “I think we may have just discovered why we’re here.”
Heather groaned.What the hell,she thought. This was what she came for, after all. Her chance to screw both Matt and Chloe, payback for the little stunt Chloe had pulled the other day.And let’s not forget Noah,she thought, mindful of his growing lack of interest. “Disappointed?” she asked, feeling on surer ground.
“Pretty sure of yourself, weren’t you?”
“Pretty sure ofyou,” she said.
Without another word, Matt unzipped his pants and pulled up her skirt.
Really?Heather thought, as he entered her, slamming her roughly and repeatedly against the marble counter.We’re doing it here, in the bathroom, against the sink? Again? When there’s a perfectly good bedroom with a nice, comfortable bed only feet away?
Was this the way he was with Chloe? Heather almost felt sorry for the woman.Her back must be a mass of bruises,she thought, as Matt continued pounding his way inside her. She was wondering how much more she could take when he pulled out of her, spinning her around and slapping her, hard, on her bare buttocks.
“What the…?”
But he was already moving away, zipping up his fly and straightening his jacket.
“I don’t suppose we could take a shower,” she said, only half in jest. She could use a spray of something soothing on her back and between her legs.
“We need to get out of here before the Stewarts come home,” Matt said matter-of-factly. “I told them we’d be out by seven. Come on. You can fix your hair in the car.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?” She glanced at the long mirror over the counter. “Oh, God.” Her hair was a mess, the roots already curling with perspiration.
“Come on,” he said, hurrying her down the stairs and out the front door.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” she joked as they approached her car.
“Probably a good idea,” he said, taking her at her word. “Call me if you’re ever serious about buying a house.”
“Absolutely.” Heather watched through her rearview mirror as Matt got behind the wheel of his black Audi and drove off without so much as a backward glance. “Well, what did you expect?” she asked her reflection, angry at the tears she saw forming. “Why are you crying? Surely you weren’t expecting hearts and flowers.”
No,her reflection said silently.But a little foreplay might have been nice.
“You got exactly what you came for,” Heather admonished her image. She wiped the tears from her eyes, threw the car into gear, and backed out of the driveway.
Why was getting what you wanted always such a damn letdown?