Ever so slowly, his hand lifts, water dripping from his fingertips as it crosses the small distance between us.I stay perfectly still, barely breathing, watching as his trembling fingers brush with feather-light pressure against my temple where wet strands of hair cling.My own eyes flutter closed.My inhale is shaky as I instinctively lean into his touch in silent answer.
I’m here.
His gaze locks on mine again, swimming with unshed grief.But beneath the pain, a flicker of desperate need kindles.It resonates with the sudden ache blooming low in my belly.
Guided by the current pulsing between us, Matthew leans forward, hesitantly closing the last inch separating us.My breath catches, held captive somewhere between my lungs and lips.His eyelids lower as his mouth nears mine, lashes dark and wet against his pale skin.
The first touch of his lips is incredibly soft, tentative.Almost questioning.
A tiny sound escapes my throat, part surprise, part surrender.
Despite the water soaking through every layer of my clothing, plastering denim and cotton to my skin, heat flares instantly through my veins.It centers entirely on the point where our lips meet.
My lips part instinctively, softening under his hesitant pressure.
A low groan rumbles deep in his chest, vibrating against me where our bodies press together.
Our kiss deepens immediately.
Still raw, still laced with mutual grief, but suddenly more demanding.
Hungrier.
His hand slides back from my cheek, fingers tangling firmly in the soaked strands at the nape of my neck.He tilts my head, angling my mouth more fully against his.His other arm tightens like a steel band, crushing me against his hard, wet frame, molding my front to his.My hands come up to his broad shoulders, gripping him tightly before sliding around his neck, pulling him closer.Needing more.
The discomfort of our wet clothes, the relentless drumming of the water, all seem to recede and fade.
All that exists is this desperate fusion of our mouths.
The kiss becomes frantic, almost rough now.A collision fueled more by raw need than tenderness.
His teeth graze my bottom lip, sending shivers down my spine.My hands tighten, holding him fast, meeting the demanding pressure of his mouth with my own desperate, incoherent yearning.
This overwhelming need to be closer…
To erase space…
To forget everything…
Everything but this.
His arms lock around me, molding me to the solid wall of his chest.
Then I feel it.
The urgent slide of one of his hands down my side, bunching the wet fabric of my sweater.His fingers find the clinging hem at my waist, fumbling for a moment in their urgency.
Then they’re underneath.
The shock of his warm palm pressing flat against the damp skin of my lower back tears a gasp from my throat.My whole body arches into his touch.
His fingers splay wide, learning the curve of my waist, the dip of my spine.Every point of contact is a brand of pure heat that obliterates everything but this desperate need.
We break our kiss for a ragged, mutual gasp for air.Our foreheads press together, eyes squeezed shut, chests heaving against each other, breaths mingling hot in the small space between our faces.His hand stays firmly on my back, a scorching brand amid the chaos.
Driven by an overwhelming need to feel him, all of him, I lift my head fractionally, sliding my hands down the soaked cotton of his black T-shirt.Urgency makes my fingers clumsy, but I grasp the wet hem at his side, tugging upwards.
A low growl rumbles through his chest, a vibration I feel as much as hear.
