Silver Linings

ways back in the early years, when Hugh had still been searching for himself and a way to test his own young manhood. From Paul he had learned a lot of the important things, like how to have pride in himself, how to live by a code of honor. And how to survive.
    Hugh was suddenly, acutely aware of his deep loneliness. The sensation came more and more frequently of late. The only time it was ever really banished was when he was making love to Mattie.
    A soft sound from above made him turn and look up at the open loft-style bedroom that jutted out over the living area. The loft had a shiny red metal railing around it. Mattie's bed was lost in the shadows behind the railing.
    Mattie was the one who could banish the loneliness.
    Hugh came to a decision. He put down the half-finished oat bran muffin and walked over to the narrow spiral staircase. Silently he climbed up the wrought-iron steps to Mattie's bedroom aerie.
    Tonight at the gallery he had experienced genuine uneasiness as he had watched Flynn Grafton and Emery Blackwell hover around Mattie as if they had a prior claim on her.
    This was not a sure thing he had going with Mattie, after all. He could lose her, Hugh thought, and he knew of only one way to reassert his own claim on her. He needed some reassurance. He had to know she still wanted him physically, even if she was trying to talk herself out of wanting him as a husband.
    He had to know that on some level, at least, she was still his, the way she had been since their first night together all those months ago.

    Mattie was still wide awake when she sensed Hugh's presence near the bed. She had been unable to sleep since she had climbed the stairs to her little fortress in the sky two hours ago.
    Some part of her had known this would happen, if not tonight, then tomorrow night or the next. Soon. The inevitable could not be postponed for long. The attraction between herself and Hugh ran too deep, and the fear that she might still be in love with him was too strong to ignore. She turned slowly to see him standing beside the bed, wearing only his briefs.
    “Hugh?”
    “Tell me you want me, Mattie. At least give me that much.”
    “I want you. You know that. That isn't the point.”
    “It is tonight.” He leaned down, lifted the covers, and crawled in beside her. “If you don't want me to touch you, I won't. But I can't take any more nights alone down there on your couch.” He reached out and caressed the curve of her shoulder. “I've spent too damn many nights alone, babe.”
    Mattie searched his face for a long moment and then, with a small sigh of surrender, she raised herself up on her elbow and kissed his sensual mouth. Her lips grazed fleetingly across his. Her fingers glided over his hard chest like butterflies.
    “ Mattie .” Hugh's groan of relief came from deep within him. He half lifted himself and pushed her eagerly back onto the pillows. Then he came down on top of her like a ton of bricks.
    Mattie lay crushed beneath Hugh's weight, her mouth open to him. She was aware of his big hands moving hungrily on her, sliding down over her breasts to her stomach and lower. He wedged his leg between her thighs, prying them apart, and then his hand was on her in an intimate caress.
    Mattie gasped, feeling herself growing warm and moist almost instantly. His tongue filled her mouth. She arched her hips, straining against him, and her head tilted back over his arm.
    “That's it, babe. God, yes. So hot. So wet. So good.” He settled himself quickly between her legs and reached down to wrap her thighs around his hips. “Squeeze me tight, babe. Take me inside and hold me.”
    Mattie felt the heat and excitement flood her senses. She wanted to tell him to slow down, but she could not find the words. It was all so hard and fast and overwhelming with Hugh. Making love with him was as primitive an experience as swimming in the sea or running through a jungle. There seemed to be no slow, delicate, civilized way to do it.
    She could feel his manhood prodding at her now, feel his fingers parting the soft petals, guiding himself into her.
    “Tight,” he said in husky wonder as he flexed his hips to drive himself deep inside. “Babe, you feel so damn good.”
    And then he was in all the way, filling her, stretching her, setting off five-alarm fires at each of her nerve endings. His mouth covered hers again, and his possession of it was as deep and damp and complete as his possession of the slick, tight,