Page 93 of Matteo

“I was worried about you,” he says, as I now worry about him.

His words set my heart aflutter, because I feel lucky, blessed and special, all because of him. Without thinking, I lean towards him, and tiptoe up to plant a kiss on his lips. His eyes open wider with surprise.

I step back. “You bought me supplies. No one's ever done that for me before.”

He stares at me, cocking his head as if he’s seeing me clearly for the first time. Like he sees the pain I try to hide. Then he lifts his hand to my face, his thumb gently caressing my skin, and time stops. Everything around me blurs into the background.

“Well, someone should have,” he murmurs. I see the way his hair falls slightly over his forehead, the way his eyes drop to my mouth and then come back to my eyes.

I see only him. I feel only him.

“You keep looking at my lips,” I blurt out.

“Yeah. I know. I’m planning on doing something about that.” His hands slide around my waist, and he presses me closer still.

“What?” I play dumb as my heart crashes violently inside my chest.

“I’m wondering if kissing you is a wise move,” he continues, his fingers tracing over my skin.

“It’s complicated,” I say, not daring to move, as our breaths intermingle.

“It is indeed.”

My heart flips in my chest like a madman wanting to be let loose.

Because I’m so pumped with adrenaline and my inhibitions have fallen to the ground, my hands slide along his chest, and go around his neck. “This feels better,” I whisper. Our chests press together.

“Feels kinda good,” he agrees.

I inhale his cologne, smoky, rebellious and sensual, just like him.

His hands tighten around me. “Life is generally complicated, what with elevator glitches and period pains ...”

“And family brunches and kidney transplants,” I add.

“Those too. Those are fucking complicated.”

“Um-hmmmm.” My heart dips each time his eyes go to my lips. I wish he'd hurry up and kiss me already.

“But having you around makes everything seem lighter.” His eyes burn into mine and my stomach flips. Amped up frustration and lust churn inside me while a long silent moment spreads between us. His fingers brush my cheek, and my breath stills. I press my lips together, in anticipation, but now my legs feel shaky and if he doesn't make a move soon, I'll have to cling to him just to stay upright.

“If I kiss you, everything changes.”

I look at him without blinking. “Everything already changed.”

And that's when he kisses me.

It's slow at first, and hesitant, like he's giving me a chance to pull away. But I don't. Instead I move closer, press against him some more, my hand grabbing the front of his T. Our kiss deepens. It’s not careful or controlled anymore. It's weeks of tension and lingering glances, of almosts and what ifs, suddenly unfurling and running rampant. It's the release of endless, sleepless nights of tossing and turning. Of imagining and wanting. His tongue sweeps inside my mouth, dominant and desperate with need.

When we finally pull apart, we're both panting.

“Well,” he says, matter-of-factly, “That was a terrible idea.”

I smile. “It was.”

And we do it all over again.

Chapter 23