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He pulled me closer to him again, burying his nose in my hair, breathing me in. “It would be nice to not sleep alone,” he whispered, his lips against my neck. “It’s been such a long time since I woke up next to someone.”
His honesty hurt my heart. “Then stay. As a friend, I’m asking you to stay. Plus, you’re nearby if Emmy needs you,” I offered, in case he needed more of an incentive.
“Okay. If you’re sure. Thank you.”
I stepped out of his arms, slipping my hand in his, feeling his giant palm against mine, and led him to my bedroom. I watched him move towards the bed.
“Matt, you’re not sleeping in here like that,” I cried in mock horror.
“What?”
“Jeans and a shirt aren’t exactly comfy bed wear. And you’ll overheat in like ten minutes. Take them off.”
“Rogue—”
“Jesus, Matt. If you sleep like that, there will be no hugging. Take them off.”
“Fine,” he huffed out.
I slipped under the covers and laid back against the pillows, watching him out of the corner of my eye in the mirror. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, peeling it from his body before folding it and laying it over the chair in the corner of the room before he did the same with his jeans. I couldn’t help but lick my lips, taking him in. I’d touched his cock, but I’d only seen his body a couple of times. The real life version of Matt was breathtaking. He was ripped. Every muscle primed to perfection. Huge arms, rounded pecs, an eight pack… yep, eight, not six, that looked like they were made of iron and that V carved into his hips that made my mouth water. His cock was soft in his boxer shorts, but I could see the thick outline of it as he walked. And his legs. God, his legs might have been my favorite part of him.
I had to pull my eyes away as the sight of him became too much, arousal leaking from my pussy, soaking into my shorts.
Trying to pretend my body wasn’t having a moment, I pulled back the covers and tapped the bed. “Come on, get in here and wrap those massive arms around me while I snore all night and keep you awake.”
“You don’t snore.”
“I might.”
“Then I might withhold snacks from our next film night.”
“You wouldn’t starve a girl.”
“I wouldn’t starve you, Rogue. It’s too risky. Who knows what you’d be capable of.”
I let out a soft laugh we settled into bed. “Let’s sleep, Matt. I can’t make your job any easier, but I can hug all the stress away for you.”
He wrapped his arms around me, finding the same spot on the curve of my lower back to rub in that hypnotic circular motion I liked so much. I lay a kiss on the tattoo on his chest before I settled my head over the same spot, unable to ignore how rigid his body went.
For a moment I thought he was going to change his mind and leave, but eventually, his body relaxed and before long, his breaths lengthened as he slipped into sleep, coaxing me to follow him.
Chapter 11
Matt
Iwokeinthemiddle of the night, confused as to why I was sleeping in an oven, and then I remembered I was in bed with Frankie and that girl liked to turn the heat up. I gently pulled my arm from under her and went to the bathroom before I headed to the kitchen and drank two huge glasses of water to try to quench my thirst.
Standing in the doorway to her room, I watched her sleep. Being in her bed… having her body next to mine, had loosened the stress that had coiled itself around my chest for weeks, months—who I am kidding—years. Fuck, being around her loosened me. She made me a better person. She made me feel like a man and not the robot I’d become.
I’d died the day Emma and Alfie did, and she made me feel like I’d been resurrected. Given a second chance. But then I remembered I didn’t deserve a second chance. I didn’t deserve to be happy. Not after what I’d done.
I walked back to the living area to put my glass in the kitchen and spotted a notebook on the coffee table. Not normally nosy, I felt drawn to open it for some strange reason. Inside were page after page of words. The more I read, the more I realized they were Frankie’s songs. I felt guilty for looking. As if I was getting a glimpse into her soul.
Suddenly, I needed to leave something of mine in there to balance things out. I searched through the pages and found one covered in love heart doodles and I let out a silent laugh at how kooky she could be.
Picking up a pen, I wrote a message knowing she’d probably see it, but not caring because I wanted to share my past with her even though I had no idea how to open up about what had happened. About what I was responsible for.
This way I was telling her without having to say a word. The coward's way out, but still a way to share my past with her.
