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“That’s what I mean. You get me. God, Matt. You have no idea how scared I was that you’d see those pictures and think…that was me.”
“Iknowthat’s not you.” Now he smiled. Properly. “It’s not like I’m sat here thinking, any minute now Tara Marie will burst through the door and demand her boyfriend back.”
That made me chuckle. My stupid arm automatically reached out so I could stroke his face again.
“Tara would definitely burst through the door and demand her boyfriend back. She’s quite the joker. But she’d be dragging her girlfriend along with her and come armed with a bag of homemade macaroons. Tara doesn’t drink either. We bonded over black coffee and pastries. She bakes. I eat them. We make the perfect couple.”
He laughed. What I loved even more than his laughter was that I made him laugh, just being myself. And my stomach was once again full of fire.
There was a drop of water running off his shoulder. I wanted to lick it off.
I loved how real he was, the natural shape of his body, his chest—hairless apart from a few stray hairs around his nipples. I wasn’t allowed any hair. Cass Powell groomed. Well, Peter did, yanking every little, microscopic hair out of my battered skin.
My fingers wandered from Matt’s face down to his nipple. I gently stroked those little hairs and watched in wonder how what had been a plump area of soft skin tightened into a hard, bumpy patch.
Fuck.
Fuck.
There was no script for this. No intimacy coordinator to advise me on the right way to place my hands on him, inoffensive touches that would look good on camera. In real life, I wanted my mouth on that nipple, and it terrified me. I snatched my arm away and sat back on the sofa hyperventilating.
“You know, you can touch me. Anywhere.” He reached out and stroked a finger over my hand. “I have no issue with you trying things out. And if something doesn’t work for you, it really doesn’t matter.”
I gulped air. I had no idea why I was like this.
“Come here.” His voice was gentle, but I couldn’t move.
“Conny? Just come here.”
I wanted to, so much, and he must’ve known that because in the end he pulled me to him, tugging at my sleeves until my cheek was flat against his chest. The noises coming out of my mouth were ridiculous. I gasped, clung to him, closed my eyes at the sensations of his warm skin against my face, his lips in my hair, my fingers gripping his arm.
“You’re always safe with me. I will never do anything you don’t want me to do. We’re just going to take this as it comes. But hugs, Conny? I really need hugs. Lots of them. You against me, like this? This is the stuff I live for. Connection. Knowing that you’re here because you want to be not because we met on Grindr or something. I have no expectations. All I need is you. Here. OK?”
“OK.”
I lifted my head and looked at him. Pressed my lips against his. The thrill of being able to do that was…intense. Almost too intense when he smiled and kissed me back, little soft pecks all over my face.
Which, of course, was when the intercom went. And since I was all polite and dressed and all that, I shot up and went to answer, leaving him sat on the sofa.
“Uh…hullo?”
“Ha!” Came from the speaker. “I knew it! You’re the only one who orders that crap. Mum almost refused to cook it. You need to thank me because I bribed her.”
Matt was laughing his head off.
“Buzz him in,” he said, getting up from the sofa. “I’ll grab some clothes.” There was a wet patch on the sofa cushion from his hair.
I stood there like a lemon, holding the front door open, as Wei the Noodle Man skipped up the stairs.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” I started, immediately the defence and for no reason whatsoever.
“Matt’s a nice guy. I’m glad you’re…friends.” He smirked, unzipping the carrier slung over his shoulder.
“Hey, Wei!”
Matt to the rescue. Thank you, God.
I took the bags off Wei and tried to skulk away.
