I need to be closer.To feel the entirety of his strength.His solidity.His acceptance surrounding me.
With a choked sound, part sob, part plea, I rise to settle astride his lap.My legs find their place around his lean hips, my body flush against his.I wind my arms tight around his neck and bury my face in the warm, safe haven of his shoulder, finally letting go of a breath I’ve held for a lifetime.
He makes a soft sound deep in his chest as his arms wrap around my waist.His hands spread warm and firm against my back, pulling me closer until no space is left between us.
An embrace that feels like it could piece us back together.Two souls stripped bare, finding a profound solace.A shield against the ghosts of the past.
After a long moment where the only sound is the soft whisper of our mingled breaths, and the hushed sounds of a world still lost in sleep, I feel his lips press a lingering kiss to my temple.The gentle pressure, the intimacy of his breath, is a perfect echo of another moment in the chaos of Hydra.
This is my part to play, nobody else’s.
Matthew’s words resonate with startling clarity.He stepped in.A protective shield.Ready to play a role in a degrading charade, all to spare me.Even after that morning in his kitchen when I said I wouldn’t mind using some random stranger.
“I wasn’t going to go through with it,” I confess in a hushed whisper into the warm curve of his neck.“The make-out session with a stranger.”I lift my head just as he pulls back to search my eyes.
A faint frown creases his brow.“You were standing there all alone…”
I nod, looking down for a second before meeting his gaze.“That’s because I was there to confront him.”
“Confront him?”he repeats slowly.“And Maddy’s Place?You were so sure…”
“A risk I was willing to take.”
Matthew shakes his head.A slow smile of admiration curves his lips, a fierce pride lighting his eyes.“So even when you were telling me there was no other choice, a part of you was fighting back.”
A sheepish smile is my only answer.
He lets out a breathy chuckle that holds a weary irony.He covers his face with his hands before combing them back through his hair.“All day, it was eating at me.I couldn’t fucking think.”He closes his eyes for a brief, agonized second.When he reopens them, they bore into mine with a fierce, haunted honesty.“All I could see was another man’s hands on you.”His hands cup my neck, his thumbs caressing my jaw.“His lips on yours—” His voice cracks.His gaze drops to my mouth as one of his thumbs glides over my lower lip.“Only to appease that fucker.”An inferno of possessive fire blazes in his eyes when they rise back to mine.“Unbearable.”
My lungs stall.
To be wanted like this…
It’s a brand of devotion so potent it chases away the last lingering shadows of my own unworthiness.
It makes me feel irrevocably, utterly…
His.
I lean that last fraction of an inch, my lips pressing to his in a silent, answering vow.
An acceptance.
A seal.
I feel him sigh into the kiss, a shuddering release of all that coiled tension.His hands slide from my neck to my back, pulling me even tighter, molding me to the hard lines of his body as if he wants to absorb me into himself.The kiss deepens.A mutual pouring out of all the overwhelming emotions of this night.Of the magnificent hope that now burns between us.
When we finally break apart, our foreheads pressed together, the world around us seems to hold its breath.The only sounds are our ragged breathing and the frantic, synchronized beating of our hearts.He adjusts his hold, one arm sweeping securely under my knees, the other a steadfast support against my back.He stands, lifting me effortlessly, my legs still wrapped around his waist, my body held flush against his.I bury my face against the warm column of his neck, a sigh of pure contentment escaping me.
He carries me back inside, through the quiet house.Each step sure and steady toward the sanctuary of his bedroom.Toward the promise of a shared rest.And a new, fragile, but fiercely hopeful dawn.
FORTY SEVEN
MY EYELIDS FEEL heavy.The lingering weight of a sleep so deep it bordered on oblivion.I blink slowly, blissfully cocooned in warmth.The sheets are impossibly soft, the duvet a comforting weight.The first conscious thought that drifts through my mind is one of bone-deep peace.A gentle light, like spun gold, filters through the blinds, painting soft stripes across the room.A subtle shift beside me draws my attention.I turn my head lazily on the pillow, and my heart gives a soft lurch.
Matthew is already awake.Propped up on one elbow, simply watching me, his dark hair rumpled across his forehead.The morning sun catches the emerald in his irises, making them glow.A lazy smile touches his lips as our eyes meet.A feeling too new for words swells in my chest.
His free hand comes up, his knuckles grazing my cheek.“Morning, love.”His voice is a low, husky rumble, thick with heart-melting fondness.
