Because he is.
For a split second, he doesn’t move. Like he’s afraid to touch me. Afraid this isn’t real.
His hands lower slowly, carefully, until his touch settles against my skin. I slide my tongue into his mouth and he takes over instantly, deepening the kiss, hungry but restrained.
He pulls back abruptly.
“Babe…” His voice is rough. Confused. “What are you doing?”
I smile, breathless. “Kissing you.”
“I know, but…” He searches my face. “Why?”
“Because I want to feel good.” I kiss him again, slower. “I want you.” My mouth brushes along his scruff to his ear. “I want to feel you.”
His hands tighten at my thighs.
“And I’m sober,” I add.
His breath ghosts over my cheek. “Yeah?” he murmurs. “And what happens when you feel things after?”
“Then I feel things.” I meet his eyes. “We talk about it.”
He lifts a brow, studying me, like he’s still unsure if he can trust this.
“I’m scared shitless,” I admit quietly. “But I’m so tired of running.”
His face softens, and something shifts in him.
“I don’t want this to just be about sex,” he says, his voice low. “As much as I want that… that’s not what this is for me. It never has been.”
“It’s never been about sex for me, either,” I whisper. “Never.”
He stills completely.
My hands press against his chest, my pulse thundering before the words spill out. “I love you, Matt. I’ve always loved you.” I shake my head, emotion clogging my throat. “And I don’t want to waste another day pretending I don’t.”
I take a shaky breath, eyes locked on his, trusting him to catch me because it feels like I just flung myself off a fucking ledge.
A slow, crooked grin spreads across his face, and his hand slides around the back of my neck. He pulls me in and crashes his mouth to mine.
Muscle memory kicks in—my mouth, his mouth—anticipationcurling low in my stomach as his fingers skim my skin, teasing the neckline of my robe before slipping beneath the fabric.
His tongue glides against mine, and a sound of pure want slips out of me before I can stop it.
He grips my thighs and pulls me closer, his firm cock pressing against me. He drags a finger down the center of my breasts, then lower.
He tugs at the tie, loosening it, pushing the robe open at my waist.
My breath stutters as cool air hits my skin, a sharp contrast to the heat of his hand smoothing over my stomach.
His mouth leaves mine, trailing along my jaw, down my neck, flicking his tongue against my pulse point.
A steady thrum builds between my legs, and I press down on him harder, rolling my hips instinctively.
He groans. “Fuck, babe.”
His teeth graze my collarbone, and I tip my head back with a gasp as he nips at my shoulder, then sucks hard.
