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At six feet three, it really wasn’t that hard to take a running leap at the little roof over the front door at Matthew’s townhouse and pull myself up onto the small platform below his bedroom window.
Could I have knocked on the door?
Obviously.
But considering the number of Elite cars piled in the driveways, I decided against it. The swim bros were good peeps and all, but I was in no mood to go through all of them to get to Matthew.
The curtains on the window were not drawn, the room inside completely dark. Cupping my hands, I leaned against the cold glass to peer inside. Everything was still, the space appearing vacant. I frowned, inwardly chastising myself for getting it wrong in thinking he’d be isolating in his room.
Flattening my palm on the glass, I pushed up, testing to see if it would open. When the frame slid up, my heart cartwheeled. He left it unlocked. I pushed it up until there was just enough room for me to fit and slid through headfirst, belly down.
My hands hit the carpet, and my lips curled in derision. Matthew hated this carpet, and now I did too. Once on my feet, I slid the window closed and turned.
That’s when I saw him.
Curled in on himself on the floor.
The sight he made lying on his side, legs drawn into his chest, was a kick in the teeth. How could someone so big, someone who literally filled up all the spaces in my heart, look so fucking small?
What the hell was he doing down there in the dark? It was as though as soon as he made it into the safety of his room, he collapsed, unable to make it just a step more.
He was still in my jacket, one arm and hand completely invisible inside the sleeve, the other stretched up to create a pillow for his cheek while his hand clutched a white paper cup.
His eyes were closed, body so motionless I had to step closer and stare hard to see the rise and fall of his chest.
Heart clenching, I dropped to my knees in front of him, reaching first for the coffee to slip it from his grip and set it aside on a nearby tower of unpacked boxes.
“Matthew,” I murmured, scooting forward on my knees to brush the back of my fingers over his cheek. His skin was cold.
His eyes remained closed, but his cheek followed my fingers, and when I settled my palm over the side of his face, he let out a small snuffling sound.
“Open your eyes, baby,” I cajoled, brushing my thumb along the underside of his lower lip.
His lashes fluttered, but the second he registered my presence, his entire body stiffened. When he jerked his face from my touch, his back met the door and his eyes popped wide. Almost instantly, his body started to vibrate, and it made me wonder how he’d managed to fall asleep with so much tension coiled inside him.
“Easy, princess. You’re okay.” I reassured him.
“Arsen?” Disbelief echoed in his drowsy voice. “You came.”
“There is literally nothing on this earth strong enough to keep me away from you.”
A sob ripped from his throat, vibrating the air around us as he shoved off the floor and flung himself at me. My body rocked when we collided, thighs locking to balance the weight. My arms sealed around him as he grappled to get closer, wrapping his muscled legs around my waist and hooking his ankles at my back. His torso arched, fitting against mine as he threaded his arms underneath my armpits to wrap them around my torso.
His deep, shuddering breaths puffed across my neck, shooting rush after rush of desire down the length of my spine. Nosing the column of my throat, he inhaled. “You smell good,” he confessed, following the words with a swipe of his damp tongue over my skin.
I’d been hard-pressed to do so, but after leaving the police station, I swung by my room to shower and change. Walking around smelling like a stale brewery wasn’t something I enjoyed. Plus, it was just a reminder of the shitshow we’d all endured that evening. I didn’t feel bad for taking the time to clean up, though, not if it got this reaction.
I’d come here not only to make sure he was okay but to talk, to make sure he understood this was not the end of us. There was no end for us, and there never would be.
But it was hard to form a coherent thought, let alone speak a full sentence with the way he plastered himself against me, the way he nibbled and licked like he was starved. One of his hands dragged up my back and over my shoulder to trace a path across the sensitive skin on the side of my neck. My head tipped, and his fingers fondled the row of piercings along my ear, rubbing small circles over the metal, tugging on the single hoop, and then dragging over them, up and down, up and down.
Still latched on to the piercings, he pulled his face from my neck, head falling back as though it were too heavy to hold up. Automatically, I reached up to cradle him, and he hit me with those dark, drunken eyes. His pupils were enlarged, stare saturated with lust, and his inky hair fell messily over his forehead.
“I came to talk.”
“I can’t hear right now, Arsen. I can only feel.”
I tugged the double hoops in my lip into my mouth, hoping the little sting would battle back the insatiable urge to give in.
