Matthew, who listened to the ugliest parts of my story and didn’t see me as broken, but as a survivor.
Matthew, who just gave me the one thing I needed most…
Space.
The respect of a closed door between us.
I change into my light blue pajama set, my movements dreamlike.I feel exquisitely cherished, not just from the passion we shared, but from his quiet understanding.The fear that was so loud in the driveway is now a faint echo in a distant valley.It’s still a part of my landscape, but from here, in this quiet room, it has no power.
I slip between the cool, smooth sheets and pull the plush duvet up to my chin.For the first time in longer than I can recall, my body isn’t a coiled spring, braced for the next blow.The tight knot of anxiety that has lived below my ribs for years seems to have finally, gently, unraveled.As I lie here, cocooned in the warmth of Matthew’s care, I give myself permission to forget the battles waiting for me.
Tonight, I am just a woman in a safe bed.Sleeping just across the hall from a man who feels more like home than any place I’ve ever known.
A sigh escapes my lips.My eyelids grow heavy, the profound peace of the moment pulling me down into a darkness illuminated by Matthew’s bright eyes.
When my eyes flutter open, it’s to the dusty gold of dawn filtering through the windows.I lie still for a moment, a satisfied smile spreading across my face.
I slip into the adjoining bathroom, the plush rug soft beneath my feet.Brushing my teeth at a spacious marble vanity feels a world away from the cramped sink in the café’s staff washroom.After blotting my face dry on a towel that feels like a cloud, I pad barefoot out of the bedroom and into the quiet hallway.
The house is still, wrapped in the hush of early morning.But as I reach the top of the stairs, I hear it.That familiar, rhythmic thudding from the floor below.
A grin spreads across my face as I descend the stairs, the sound pulling me forward like a tether.By the time I reach the basement, the sounds are sharp and distinct: the percussive impact of leather on leather, punctuated by the harsh exhale of a man in deep exertion.
I lean against the wall and drink in the sight of him.
Bare-chested, in loose grey sweatpants that ride low on his hips.His body is a study in controlled power.The muscles in his back and shoulders coil and release with every punch, each movement fluid and brutally efficient.Sweat slicks his skin, tracing the sharp definition of his abs.My heart does a heavy roll in my chest.To know this raw strength, this contained fire, is the same force that held me with such reverence is a dizzying, intoxicating thought.
He finishes a rapid-fire combination with a final, guttural grunt.The bag sways violently.He stands back, chest heaving.
Then, as if sensing my presence, he turns his head.
His gaze finds mine across the room.The feral intensity in his eyes transforms into a different kind of fire.A possessive, intimate heat that crosses the distance between us and wraps around me.
He pulls off his gloves, tossing them onto the nearby bench, his eyes never leaving me.He grabs a small towel, running it roughly over his face and through his damp hair before swiping it across his slick torso and shoulders.A deep, appreciative hum vibrates in my chest.Every efficient movement feels like a private show for my enjoyment.And we both know it.
Tossing the towel aside, he stalks toward me, a slow, deliberate stride, until he’s standing right in front of me, radiating heat and the salty scent of his exertion.
“Morning,” he says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.“Like what you see?”
A delightful warmth floods me as my hands grip either side of his sculpted hips.“Immensely,” I confess, my voice breathless.
The corner of his lips lifts.He braces his hands on the wall on either side of my head, caging me in.“Missed you in my bed,” he confesses, the teasing light in his eyes giving way to an honest heat.
A sharp gasp escapes me, my lips parting on the stolen breath.My fingers instinctively dig into the hard muscle of his hips as his words send a dizzying wave of liquid heat rushing through me.
His half-smile widens as he watches the undisguised desire flood my face.His gaze drops to my lips, burning with satisfaction.
Then, his mouth is on mine.
It tastes of salt and fire.A fire that he’s no longer banking.It’s the primal claiming of a man in his own territory.My hands leave his waist to tangle in his damp hair, pulling him even closer.He groans, pressing me harder against the wall, his body a solid heat against the soft cotton of my pajamas.Just as the kiss deepens, threatening to pull us under, he tears his mouth away with a low growl of frustration, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.
He drops his head back, the muscles in his neck cording.A visible battle for control rages within him.I can see the proof of it in the rigid line of his jaw.
“If we don’t stop, I’m taking you back to my room and we’re not leaving my bed.The entire day.”
A mischievous smile plays on my lips.“Sounds like a great plan to me.”
A short, rough laugh escapes him, his eyes blazing.“Don’t tempt me, love,” he murmurs, his voice a husky warning.
