My eyes are puffy, my cheeks flushed, hair a mess.I smooth it down, take a deep breath, and steel myself to leave the relative safety of his bedroom.
Pausing at the top of the stairs, I listen.
The house below is quiet.
I descend, my bare feet silent on the plush runner covering the wood treads.
Reaching the main floor, I notice the blood has been cleaned from the tiles.
As if the ugly violence that violated this home could be so easily erased.
A faint, rhythmic thudding floats up from downstairs.
A muffled grunt.
And another thud.
Hesitantly, I start down the basement stairs, each step creaking softly.The thudding grows louder, now joined by the harsh sound of expelled air.
Sharp exhalations.
Grunts of effort.
Rounding the corner, my eyes land on Matthew.
His back is to me as he unleashes a brutal, relentless assault on the heavy bag.He’s shirtless, his broad back gleaming with sweat, muscles cording and releasing with each powerful impact.His black sweatpants hang low on his hips, revealing the sharp lines of his hipbones.
Each blow lands with focused fury, his entire body pouring pent-up energy into the worn leather.
I should say something, should let him know I’m here, but the words won’t come.A part of me wants to turn and run back upstairs, but another part, a stronger part, keeps me rooted to the spot.
I lean against the wall, mesmerized.His raw power is a magnetic force.It pulls a memory to the surface, immediate and visceral:
The feel of his hands on my skin...the heat of his body pressed to mine…
The memory alone is enough to make an insistent heat pool deep in my belly.
I stifle a moan, eyes fluttering shut against the force of it.
The sudden silence is as jarring as the noise had been.
I can still hear his ragged breathing, and then the faint creak of the chain as the bag slowly stops swaying.I register the soft pad of his feet approaching.I open my eyes only to have them crash into green depths ablaze with desire.His gaze travels down my neck, past my collarbone to my chest, his jaw clenching hard.
I forget to breathe.
He closes the distance between us, planting a hand flat on the wall beside my head.He swipes his glistening temple against his extended arm, wiping away sweat.
“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”His voice is a rough growl, vibrating with the effort of control.
His free hand comes up to grip the thick lapel of my robe.With a firm but gentle tug, he pulls the edges securely together over my chest.
Heat floods my face.My hands fly up to clutch the front of the robe tightly.“I didn’t realize… I-I couldn’t find my clothes,” I stammer, my face inches from his.
His hand leaves the robe and lifts to my cheek, his knuckles ever so softly caressing my skin.“We need to talk, love,” he says, his voice still rough, but quieter now.
A muscle jumps in his jaw, as if even that gentle contact is too much.Inhaling sharply, he pulls his hand back, pushes off the wall, and turns.
He strides past me toward the stairs without another word.
