She hesitates, her breath shaky, and I wait. I wait for her to trust me enough to open up, to give me a hint at whatever it is that’s haunting her. Her lips part as though the words are on the tip of her tongue, but then she shakes her head, dark hair swishing around her face.
“I don’t want to talk right now,” she rasps, reaching up to cup my jaw in her soft palm. “I just… I want…” she wraps her arms around my neck as she trails off, lips crashing against mine in a kiss that’s full of desperation, of need, of every emotion that she can’t put words to.
I take every bit of it, kissing her back with a fierce intensity as everything around us melts away. Whether she needs comfort or a distraction, I’ll give it to her. I’ll be her rock, her safe harbor, her soft place to land.
Blair’s lips move against mine with urgency, like she’s trying to consume me, trying to pull everything I am into herself. It’s messy and imperfect, but it’s real and raw in a way that makes my pulse race. I can feel her heartbeat pounding against my chest, our bodies fitting together like we’re two puzzle pieces slotting into place.
I feel her fingers digging into my hair, tugging me closer as her body presses tighter against mine. I’m acutely aware of the heat radiating from her, the tension between us crackling in the air like electricity. She kicks a leg over to straddle my lap, grinding against me with a quiet moan.
“I need you, Matty,” she whines, hands sliding up underneath my shirt to roam across the ridges of my abs.
Blair rocks her hips over my lap, my cock thickening against my zipper as her hands drop to scrabble with the button of my jeans. I slide my own hands up to cup her breasts, tongue lashing against hers as I thumb her hard nipples.
When we’re like this, it’s easy to forget that the door’s wide open.
That is, until I hear the sound of a throat clearing, followed by Avery’s unmistakable snicker.
We jolt apart on instinct, Blair leaping off my lap and scrambling to the opposite side of the couch. My face flushes with embarrassment when I look toward the door and find Cam standing there with his arms crossed, a knowing smirk on his face. Avery’s right beside him, tittering with amusement.
“You owe me twenty bucks,” Avery tells her mate, turning at the waist to deliver a playful jab to his bicep.
Blair groans, pulling her knees into her chest and hiding her face behind her hands.
“Great timing, guys,” I mutter, grabbing for a throw pillow and bringing it to my lap to hide my boner.
Well fuck.
This is going to be an interesting day at the office.
CHAPTER TWELVE
the showers
BLAIR
Imiss the days when I’d crawl in bed at night and just…sleep. For months now, insomnia has been my constant companion, my restless mind robbing me of the ability to rest.
Tonight is no different.
I’ve got no shortage of spiraling thoughts to keep me wide awake, my mind replaying the events of the day while overanalyzing every moment.
After Cam and Avery walked in on us in the command center, things were awkward between me and Matty for the rest of the day. We tried to fall back into our usual routine– working at our stations, exchanging polite, quiet conversation– but we both felt the weight of the elephant in the room bearing down on us. It was apparent in every glance we shared, every word we whispered. Each one only reinforced that he’s not giving up until I tell him what’s wrong.
That’s the kicker, though– opening up to people has never been easy for me, and laying my vulnerabilities bare for him scares me more than it should. I think part of me is afraid that once he knows how badly damaged I am, it’ll forever change the way he sees me. Nobody has ever looked at me the way Mattydoes, like I’m beautiful and perfect and fuckingspecial. I don’t want to lose that.
I don’t want to losehim.
Guess it just took an embarrassing meltdown for me to realize that.
As we were packing up to go home after work, Matty asked if we could go somewhere to actually talk, but of course I avoided it again by telling him I’m not quite ready. It’s not a lie. I know he deserves to know what’s really going on with me, but tonight I just need space to sort out my feelings and figure things out on my own.
He respected that, of course. Matty always does. He’s the kind of man that seems too perfect to be real– patient, understanding to a fault, respectful of every boundary I’ve set. He’s also sweet and attentive, but when he needs to be, he’s got a steady strength; a command that makes me feel both safe and seen. When he took control this morning, I had no idea how badly I needed him to. That action only reinforced how incredible he really is, and why he’s the kind of guy you don’t let slip through your fingers.
I almost did. If Matty wasn’t so insistent, I would’ve kept stubbornly shutting him out until I lost the only thing that’s given me an ounce of happiness since Dylan died. I used to be irritated by his persistence and refusal to take no for an answer, but now, I’m grateful for it.
I roll over in bed with a soft sigh, kicking the covers away and reaching over to grab my phone off my nightstand. Though I pushed off having a real conversation with Matty, I did agree to exchange a few texts with him. Nothing heavy, just brief exchanges to check in. It was strangely comforting to send messages back and forth all evening, making me feel less alone in the quiet numbness of my mind. It was also easier to behonest when I didn’t have to face him directly, easier to let my guard down from behind the safety of my phone screen.
In those paralyzing moments of anxiety as I tried to process my feelings over everything, agonizing over how to move forward, his texts started to feel like a lifeline.
