“Dreamy,” I reply instantly.
Matthew’s smile shifts, becoming softer.More intimate.
“It’s a date then,” he concludes gently.
“Umm…” I tug at my sweater dress, making his smile widen.
“Oh, don’t you worry, I've got a tracksuit with your name on it.”He points up the stairs.“But you go first.I’ll be right behind you, in case you fall.”
“I’m notthatdrunk,” I retort, giving him a playful glare over my shoulder
“Hey, tonight is one of those nights.”He gives a slight shrug.“I’m not taking any chances.”
A small giggle escapes me as I turn toward the staircase.
It stretches upwards forever.I start climbing, one slow step at a time.My legs feel heavy, weighted with lead.My hand grips the polished railing, a tremor running through my arm.
“All good?”Matthew asks, his voice close behind.
“Fine.”The word comes out too quick, trembling.
I feel his presence, a silent, watchful guardian.Then, the warmth of his hand lands on the small of my back.
Electric awareness darts through me.
I lean back, pressing against his palm for a fraction of a second.
“No rush,” he murmurs.
His hand remains a steady pressure as we climb the stairs.
Matthew opens the guest room door and I step inside.The large bed with its neatly folded duvet, the cream wall with giant blush roses…
It’s like stepping back in time to that first night.
The raw vulnerability.The desperate kiss.The reenactment.The…
Humiliation.
My skin prickles with the phantom sensation of his touch.My hands remember the feel of his skin.That night lingers here.A ghost in the air between us.
My fingers glide over the soft linen, my back to him.“I…” My voice chokes on the memory.
Behind me, Matthew doesn’t move.He doesn’t speak.But his gaze is a palpable weight.
I inhale a shaky breath.“I’m sorry,” I whisper.“F-for what you saw.With that guy…”
The silence stretches, filled only with my ragged breathing.Then, soft footsteps approach.He stops just behind me.Close enough to feel him, but he doesn’t touch me.
I tense.Every muscle coils tight.
His hand gently rests on my shoulder.My eyes close at the sharp tremor running through me.With the slightest pressure, he turns me.
I don’t resist.My body is pliant, stripped of will.
When our eyes meet, his gaze is intense.Searching.A hard edge of anger sets his jaw.Old pain flickers in his eyes.And underneath it all, a raw heat that makes my heart pound against my ribs.
I bite down on my lower lip.The sharp sting a welcome distraction from the turmoil swirling inside.His gaze drops to my mouth, eyes darkening.A muscle jumps in his cheek.Without a word, he reaches out, cupping my jaw.The warmth of his palm sears my skin.His thumb brushes my lower lip, a featherlight touch.Gently, insistently, he coaxes it free from the grip of my teeth.His eyes flick up to meet mine, the question in their green depths unmistakable.
