One hundred percent lost in the moment.
My whole body feels like it’s humming, but not in a panicked way. More like someone finally tuned me to the right station.
He pulls back just enough to whisper,“Do you want me here?”
“Yes.”
He trails his mouth along my jaw, down the curve of my throat, pausing whenever my breath catches. “Here?”
“Yes,” I groan.
His hand slides up my arm, fingers weaving with mine above my head, grounding me even as I feel like I might float away. “Here?”
“Yes,” I say again, a little shocked at how sure I sound now, especially since I no longer have my hands to touch him or urge him to stop or continue.
But like the gentleman he is, Matt keeps checking in, keeps listening, adjusting when I flinch or go still, repeating what makes me sigh. It’s… new. All of it. Not just the touch, but the care. The attention. Like he’s invested in my experience, not just his own.
Time blurs. It could be minutes, could be hours. All I know is that I’m breathing hard and my skin feels alive in ways I didn't know it could, and nothing has really “happened” by locker room standards. No score. Just this slow, steady opening, however, I do feel his length hard against my thigh.
At some point, he rests his forehead against mine again, both of us panting lightly. His thumb strokes the side of my neck and slides down my breastbone. It’s so gentle yet lights up every nerve in my skin.
“Still with me?” he murmurs.
“Yeah, hmm,” I utter. My voice sounds wrecked. A field after a storm, muddied but finally rinsed clean.
He closes his eyes, exhaling shakily. “You’re killing me, you know that?”
“Is that… bad?”
He laughs under his breath. “Not even a little. I just… don’t want to push. I’ve wanted you for so long, Noelle. I have to keep reminding myself this isn’t a dream.”
Something in my chest loosens at that. He’s not just in this because I’m convenient or because of some revenge plot. Hewantsme.
“What if I want you to push a little?” I ask softly. “Not in a scary way. Just… I don’t even know what I like. I don’t know what I’m supposed to enjoy or what’s just me trying to be what a guy wants.”
His hand stills on my skin, his breath falling on my face.
“No ‘supposed to,’” he says, firm. “There’s only whatyouwant. What your body responds to. What makes you feel good. We can take our time and figure that out.”
My heart starts beating so hard it’s almost distracting. I lick my lips, nerves and wanting and something like hope tangling up in my veins. “But it’s not just about me. I want to make you feel good too.”
He opens his eyes, and I swear I’ve never seen anyone look at me the way he’s looking at me now. Not like I’m a trophy girlfriend or an obligation. Not like I’m some fragilelittle sister. Like I’m… everything. The sun that warms his body. The moon that lights his nights.
I hold his gaze, the words bubbling up before I can overthink them to death. “Matt,” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
My fingers tighten around his where our hands are still tangled above my head. My throat feels tight, but the words come anyway.
“Teach me.”
SIXTEEN
MATT
Teach me.
Every hair on my body stands at attention. My mind runs a two-minute drill in fast-forward. A million scenarios. A thousand what-ifs.
