“Here,” I said, breaking away from this hypnotic moment. Dropping my hand, I headed toward my dresser.

“Crossroads, huh?”

“Excuse me?” I twisted to him, and leaned my back against the dresser.

Holding up the book, he was reading the title aloud. “Crossroads.”

“Yes,” I confirmed.

Matthew’s eyes fell back to the cover. “I’m at a crossroads myself.” His tone was somber and low, hardly audible, but I heard the pain. I wondered why he had said those words. I wanted to ask him, but I knew he wouldn’t share. If he did, our friendship might deepen, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted go there, so I tried to lighten our conversation.

“Yeah, everyone is at a crossroad at some time in their life, don’t you think? And when we have to decide, we just have to make sure we don’t regret the road we choose since the other road may not be available if we change our minds.”

Placing the book back into its slot, Matthew moved toward me. His expression and mood changed drastically. Flexing his muscles, he planted his hands on the dresser on either side of me, creating a cage around me. There was no escape as his eyes pulled me into him and held me captive as he spoke. “True. I only wish there was no crossroads and our journey in life was a straight line.”

“That would be very boring. No drama, no love triangle—”

“No make up sex after a fight?” he said quickly, lifting one corner of his lip.

I paused, registering what he’d said. From his unexpected words, I stuttered, “Uh…I guess…uh…” Boy, was that a lame reply. Producing that sexy grin again, he shifted his eyes to what I was doing. I didn’t realize it until now, but I was twisting my hair with my finger. I slowly released it.

“I’ve always wanted to do that to mine. Obviously, I can’t. I’d like to try it on yours,” he chuckled lightly. Not waiting for my answer, he twirled a strand of my hair just like how I had done it. It made me sizzle in places I didn’t want to. Unexpectedly, with lustful eyes, he ran his fingers through my hair, melting me to the floor. My legs became weak and my breath hitched. Panic! Then, without a word, whatever connection he tried to produce died when he turned to head into the bathroom.

Unable to move, I stood there as the heated feeling continued to linger. Why do I allow him to affect me that way? The sound of the toilet flushing got my feet moving and I headed toward the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“Someone got roses,” Matthew said excitedly, sauntering into the dining area. “Did Max send those?”

“They’re for me,” I replied quickly, then spit water out into the sink, coughing relentlessly. I didn’t know why I panicked, causing the water to go down the wrong way when he asked that question. It wasn’t as if he could read my mind.

“You okay there?” With one hand wrapped around my waist, the other patted my back lightly.

I was coughing so hard I thought I was going to throw up, but Matthew was sweet, helping me through it. Gripping the edge of the sink with both of my hands, I coughed even more.

“Here, drink some water.” Matthew handed me the glass of water I had set down on the counter when I started coughing.

Clearing my throat, I spoke, but the sound of my voice came out hoarse. “Thank you.”

“You’ll live,” he said, twisting his lips in amusement, letting out a slight chuckle.

“Yes.” I wiped the tears that fell from the corner of my eyes, and then I smiled. It was all I could do since I felt like an idiot.

Matthew leaned against the cabinet and gazed at me with intensity. I’d wished I could read the meaning behind it. His eyes seemed filled with yearning and pain. They were two totally different emotions and that baffled me immensely.

“It’s getting late and I should be leaving,” he mumbled, but he didn’t move a muscle. His eyes were set on me, making me feel like he was devouring me with his thoughts.

“Thanks for driving me home.” I didn’t know what to do. Do I leave the kitchen first because he wasn’t moving?

“He isn’t good enough for you,” Matthew muttered out of the blue.

What was he talking about? I tilted my head, furrowing my brows, silently asking for further explanation.

“You deserve bigger flowers, Becca. They’re too small,” he explained. Walking to the living room, he grabbed his suit jacket, and headed to the door while I followed behind. I was surprised and confused by his words. After he opened the door, he locked his eyes on mine looking somewhat sad. “I hope he brings your book boyfriend to shame and gives you everything you deserve. When I walk out this door, I want you to make sure you lock it, okay?”

All I could do was nod. His words tugged my heart, leaving me speechless. He thought I was seeing someone when I wasn’t. Should I have said something? Then the door closed, creating a cool draft. I couldn’t tell if it was due to his absence or the air that passed through from the hallway. I didn’t know why, but I stood there, soaking in his sweet words, trying to calm my beating heart—it always pounded too fast when he was around—and pondering the thought that he believed I was taken. I wondered if that was a good thing.

Just as I reached for the lock, the door swung opened, smacked my forehead, and I stumbled back several steps. Thinking it was Jenna, I looked up while rubbing my head. “Jenna…” but it wasn’t her. “Matthew? What are you doing back here?”