Bittersweet Chocolate (25 page)

Twenty to her fifteen, she thought her shit didn’t stink, all grown up, dating someone his age. Nonetheless, the age difference brought Matthew under her father’s scrutiny.

Stephen disliked Matthew, suspicious of a man his age dating a teenager, but her dad wasn’t concerned because he knew Marissa’s track record with males. They never lasted long, and her father estimated Matthew wouldn’t make it through another week. Furthermore, Stephen knew she could take care of herself, and her cousin had her back, so he didn’t interfere.

In fact, Dad said, “I feel sorry for the Matthew person.”

The age difference meant one thing to her. His expertise might advance her level of learning, but only so much. She had her goals and intended to achieve them.

Her window of opportunity to test her seductive abilities opened when her parents left town for several days. Her dad owned rental property in Moody, Alabama and he drove down to check on the place. Best of all, since Janeen, her oldest sister, lived close by and promised to stop in to check on the younger girls, her parents felt comfortable leaving seventeen-year-old Brittany in charge.

“Brittany, Matthew is coming over tonight. Can you take April to the movies?” Brittany shook her head and gave it the
maybe this isn’t a smart move
try. Total waste of breath.

“Come on, Brie. I’ll be okay.”

Brittany smirked. “Who’s concerned about you? I’m worried about the idiot you’re dating.” She held up her hand when Marissa started to speak. “No, Rissa. We’ve had this conversation before. A twenty-year-old man trying to get into the pants of a fifteen-year-old isn’t playing with a full deck. I feel sorry for him, but he deserves whatever happens.

“But no blood. Do not draw blood when he recognizes his stupidity,” she stated. “Heck, who doesn’t know how you feel about sex before graduation. Been headline news on the grapevine for years.” She snorted. “Where has he been living?”

How funny, Brittany worrying about the dumb ass. Hell, men set the standard and she played by their rules.

“I’m serious, Rissa, I cannot explain blood on the carpet.”

She rolled her eyes. Her sister knew her too well. “Okay, I promise no blood.”

Brittany agreed to take April to the movies. It wasn’t as though Marissa would be alone. In their neighborhood, everybody knew everybody’s business. Like the grapevine, rumor control, a sophisticated networking system, would have had the word on the street before Marissa finished making the date. Therefore, the gang knew. Marissa was safe.

Having the house to herself gave her the chance to take a long, hot bath and relax before dressing. She put the final touches to her hair and went downstairs, closed the blinds on the front windows, and lit a few incense. She put some slow tunes on the stereo and was good to go.

* * * *

Matthew made his way across town oblivious to anything but his own objective. True, he had a serious problem, it had spiraled out of control, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted her.

And yeah, he’d heard the crap about her reputation, and why she had remained a virgin, but it didn’t discourage him. It would be different with him. He had experience.

Parking in front of Marissa’s house, he climbed out of his car, rushed up the steps, and rang the doorbell. The door opened and she stood there dressed in a barely decent halter top with skintight Wrangler dungarees, and barefoot.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. In the small confines of the vestibule, with her so near, he felt a film of perspiration building over his top lip. Opening the inner door, he waited for her to precede him into the living room, flinching when she brushed against him. He remained paused on the threshold, his gaze following the enticing sway of her ass as she moved across the floor. He hoped they were alone.

She looked back over her shoulder and smiled. “Are you coming in?” She plopped down on the sofa and waited.

He snapped out of his daze and casually strolled over to join her.

* * * *

“Would you like a Pepsi or ginger ale?”

“No, thanks. I’m going to need something a lot stronger than that before this night is over.”

She nodded. “You’re probably right.”

He ran his fingers lightly down her arm. “Where is everybody?”

“Out...why?”

“Honey, tell me, how many boyfriends have you had in your young life?”

One eyebrow arched quizzically. “Matthew...”

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

“Yeah, I know...do you?”

For her, this was nothing more than a science project, physiology101―advanced making out. But so wrapped up in his objective, he seemed unable to grasp or question the meaning of her words, or her intent. She didn’t have long to wait for him to make his move, but he went too far.

He pulled her into his arms, she went without hesitation, and he kissed the corner of her mouth before slipping his tongue between her slightly parted lips. It was a disaster.

He became overeager, tried to slip his hand inside her dungarees while pressing her down on the sofa. She never allowed anyone to go that far. Matthew was no exception. Intuitively anticipating his next move, she outmaneuvered him, and he experienced firsthand, a facet of her reputation.

“Whoa.” Grabbing, and digging her nails into the back of his hand, he snatched his hand away and fell back on the cushions, his harsh breathing the only sound. Minutes ticked by, and she could feel his animosity, but she didn’t move or say a word, hoping to defuse his enmity by out waiting him.

It wasn’t to be. He went ballistic.

“Damn it, you’ve been leading me on. You knew what I expected,” he growled. “By no stretch of the imagination are you naïve. You set me up, been making a fool of me from the get-go, just another of your conquests.”

Refusing to feed into his hostility, she allowed several tense moments to elapse before she responded. “Matthew, you’re out of line. You made, are making, a fool of yourself.” She released a heartfelt sigh. “You knew my feelings on the subject of sex before graduation. Who doesn’t know my feelings on the subject? It’s no secret, and fair is fair.

“You came here with a game plan. I’m a better strategic player. If you wanted a sure thing, you should have gone wherever you were getting it before you met me,” she sneered. “So cut the crap. Don’t pretend you weren’t here for the macho challenge―thought you’d be the one. The old seducing the young, naïve virgin overcome by the seductive skills of the mature lover.”

Matthew stared, a tiny muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth. With someone else, his ominous silence might have been foreboding, but she just watched and waited, never imagining she’d escape these encounters totally unscathed. She braced herself for the usual onslaught of angry, abusive language, but the silence persisted, getting on her last nerve, and she prodded.

“Listen up. I have two more years of school, and I’m not taking any chances,
with anybody. Why don’t you wait two years. If old men still appeal to me, maybe
you can have another shot.”

He surged to his feet, started to walk away, hesitated, whipped around, and came back to the sofa. Clutching her upper arms, fingernails biting into tender flesh, he jerked her to her feet. Remarkable self-control kept her from wincing or lashing out, but her steady, fixed stare would’ve warned a calmer person to proceed with caution.

Matthew leaned close, their faces mere inches apart. “Bitch.”

“True.” She snorted. “Bitch, tease
...
I’ve heard it before. Take your hands off me and we can walk away from this encounter in a friendly manner.”

“Friendly. What the hell makes you think I want to be friends?”

“Oh no, tell me it’s not so. This wasn’t meant to be a long-term relationship,” she mocked. “So, take your hands off me and, at the least, you’ll be able to walk away.”

“Is that a threat? I could kill you before you called for help.”

“Doubtful, but why would I need help?” she taunted. “If you’d been man enough―”

The blow was unexpected, her response reflexive.

Gripping his shirtfront, she jerked him forward. They stood motionless. Posture rigid, denying herself the instinctive urge to retaliate, she struggled to control tears stinging the backs of her eyes. She refused to let him see his attack had any effect on her. Subsequently, seeing his comical doe-in-headlights expression, her sense of humor supplanted most of her anger.

She released her hold, lowered her hands, but remained alert.

Hand trembling, he reached out to touch her face. “Sorry, I was out of control.”

She jerked away and stepped back. “Right, and you probably feel you owed me that. Don’t try it again. Don’t even think it. Just leave.” He turned and started for the door, stopping midstride when she said, “I won’t be seeing you around here anymore, will I? You know the neighborhood can be dangerous, unhealthy for some people.”

Matthew stiffened and turned to face her. “Don’t threaten me. Your reputation doesn’t scare me.” He took a step in her direction. “You think I’m afraid of a kid.”

Eyes narrowed, she watched him visibly trying to tamp down on his instinctive urge to finish what he’d started. Hands tightening into fists, he started forward, hesitated.

“Odd
...
you think of me as a kid? What does that say about you being here, a man your age. What
was
your intent
...
never mind.” She shrugged.

“You scheming bitch. You think to accuse me of trying to molest―”

“Whoa, where’s that coming from
...
trying to molest?” Her voice had ratcheted up a notch. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I mentioned the age difference because you called me a kid. No accusation, I was about to give you fair warning. One, my dad, who thinks of me as just a kid,
his kid
, doesn’t like you.”

His eyes widened.

“From your expression, you’ve heard of Dad, but who in North Philly hasn’t. You have to admire the grapevine in this city, huh?” She smirked. “Dad aside, the more critical issue is my friends who think of me
as
just a kid,
their kid
,
might be curious about this bruise, and I’d have to tell them what happened.”

A fiery-red flush spread across his cheeks.

“Seeing you around would be a reminder of what happened tonight, and there you go, we’re back to the neighborhood is a dangerous place, huh.”

Seemingly unnerved but not subdued, he turned to leave, and without a backward glance, he warned, “Watch your back, Marissa. I owe you one. Get my drift?”

“You owe me,” she squeaked. Grappling with her anger, she managed to get it under control when she spoke again. “Okay, no problem. You think you owe me, get in line. But be warned, mister man, I have enough people to watch my back for me. Do you get
my
drift?”

* * * *

The cooling water jarred her awake.

Okay, what’s up with old-foe reminiscing? First Tommy, now Matthew...as enemies go, Joel has dibs.

Marissa opened her eyes when a sudden draft made her shiver. Startled by a quick, shadowy movement just within her peripheral vision, she scrambled into a sitting position, stifling a scream when Tristan loomed into view. He squatted beside the tub, leaned over, and kissed her.

“How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to set the table for dinner,” he replied. “Everything is ready, when you are.”

“I’ll be just a minute.”

“Need help?” he asked, features remarkably composed, almost angelic, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

She laughed and started to stand. “If you help, dinner will be cold when I get out of this tub.”

“Isn’t that why they invented the microwave?” Grinning wickedly, he stripped off his clothes.

“No, Tris...” Too late, he was stepping into the tub. “The water is getting cold.”

“I know a way to warm it up.” He sank beneath the water and his mouth descended on hers.

Further protests died with his kiss. He pulled her close, molding her body to his. Her hand moved down over taut abs, coming to rest on a full erection, fingertips skimming across the glans before her hand closed around him, sliding down along the shaft.

“Shh-yit...” He grabbed her wrist. “Baby, slow down or I won’t be able to hold out long enough to satisfy you.”

“Oh, you’ll satisfy me. You always do, one way or another.”

“Honey, ease up.” She did, but it didn’t help. “Sorry, can’t wait,” he whispered and dragged her on top of him.

She straddled his body, moving into position, and eased down on his erection. Hands braced on his chest, she leaned forward, and he reclaimed her mouth. Grasping her hips, he tried to control her actions as she rocked back into his thrusts. Breathing harsh, his hold became a death grip and he stiffened. A low, guttural groan escaped him.

“Rissa...”

With quiet restraint, muttering his name, convulsive pleasures rocked her body as his warm pulsing release jetted into her.

Minutes passed before his breathing returned to normal and he stood, assisting her to her feet. “Hungry?”

“Starved.” She reached around him, let out the bath water, and turned on the shower.

After a quick wash, they toweled each other dry. He donned pajama bottoms and robe, while she slipped into her robe. They headed for the kitchen.

She could smell the garlic before entering the room. Moving to the counter, she unloaded food cartons from the bags and put spaghetti and Parmesan chicken on plates. Removing the four-cheese garlic bread from foil wrappers, she added them to the plates, covered both, and placed everything in the microwave.

Tristan retrieved two wineglasses from the cabinet. “What works for you...Merlot or Pinot? I put both in the fridge to chill when I came in.”

“Pinot works for me.”

He uncorked the bottle of wine and set it aside.

They leaned against the counter while waiting for their food to warm, and every so often she glanced his way. He’d caught her daydreaming again, and she knew he wouldn’t let that pass without comment, and she was right. At least he waited until they had settled at the table before introducing the subject.