Page 96 of Matteo

“I wouldn't mind another kiss, though,” she whispers.

Naturally, I oblige. Our mouths crash together and the kiss turns fevered, our tongues fighting for dominance. Heat courses through my veins, my dick is uncomfortably harder than ever, and my testosterone gets the better of me when I find myself palming her breast, under her jacket but over her sweater.

I immediately pull back. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She stares straight ahead and puts her hand deliberately over the hard line of my jeans.

I cry out because it's unexpected, the way her touch shoots straight through me.

I like it.

She keeps it there, not moving, but still. I ask her if we should head back. My voice is hoarse, because I’m trying real hard not to come inside my boxer briefs. Her touch is electric, and keeping my thoughts on something other than her hand on my package is almost impossible.

“Head back?” she echoes.

“We’ll get a taxi. I’ll drop you off first.”

“Thank you. That was the best date ever,” Elizabeth declares.

I glance at her. “Date?”

She points a finger at me. “You said that, not me.”

“I distinctly heard it come from your mouth first.”

She grins, and I don't think I've ever seen anything more beautiful.

One moment we're making out in a pedicab like we're parting forever, and the next we’re in a taxi, her hand in mine, neither of us saying much. Every now and then I look at her like I can’t quite believe I’ve spent almost an entire day with her, and loved every second of it.

Soon we're outside her apartment.

I follow her through the communal door to her door, giving a side-eye to the apartment across from hers. “Will Arnold be in bed?” I don’t relish the thought of running into him again. The guy looked at me like I was a thug that last time.

“Hopefully, and it's Arthur.”

She unlocks her door and walks in. I stand, hovering around outside, looking in. It looks warm and familiar. Her laptop lies open on the coffee table. The magazines I gave her are strewn across the couch along with her hot water bottle.

Suddenly I don’t know what I’m doing here. It’s late, and I should head back home. “I don’t want to go home,” I say before I even think about it.

She pulls me in. “I don't want you to go home.”

I swipe a hand over the back of my neck. “I'm not sure I should stay.” I don’t want to move too fast. A part of me does. A big, hard part of me, but my mind knows better.

“Stay.” She slides her arms around my waist and stares up at me with her big doe-like eyes.

It’s impossible to say no.

So I decide to stay. Because being with Elizabeth is comforting and real, and it’s everything I needed after the kind of week I've had.

***

ELIZABETH

Matteo is staying the night, and while a large part of me is thrilled about that, another part is a nervous wreck.

My stomach is full of butterflies.

The good kind. And also the terrifying kind. The kind that makes it impossible to sit still.