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“Matthew.”
The command in my voice made him go rigid. His eyes met mine, and I almost caved at the way he silently pleaded for me to back down.
I couldn’t. Not right now. “Show me.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he lowered the phone so I could see the screen between us. I stared down at it, realizing it was exactly what I thought.
My ears burned, a sensation I wasn’t really used to, and satisfaction—the kind I’d never really known without an orgasm—made my limbs heavy. After a moment, I ripped my eyes from the screen to look at the AirPods tucked into his ears.
“Is this what you’re always listening to?”
“Look, bro. This is a judgment-free zone.” Kruger interrupted.
Still holding Matthew’s wrist, I flashed my eyes over to his friend. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“That was rude AF.”
Completely ignoring his offense, I turned back to Matthew. “Is this what my princess listens to all the time?”
I spoke softly, but I swear Kruger was an eavesdropping stalker because he asked, “Princess? What the fuck happened in that jail cell?”
Matthew’s eyes burned my face with the intensity of his stare, making me feel as if I were underwater and everything but him was muffled. I craved to crush him to me, to kiss him like I did last night in the dark.
“Give them a minute,” someone, I think Coach, said, and then Kruger was gone and it was just me and the way Matthew stared.
“Princess,” I cajoled, loosening my grip on his wrist. “Is this what you listen to?”
“I told you I like whispering,” he answered, cheeks hot pink.
I groaned deep in my throat, such a fucking slave for him it was almost concerning.
“I know some people think ASMR is weird,” he started, self-conscious and about to defend himself.
“Baby.” I interrupted, letting go of his wrist to quickly take his face in my hands. “I am fucking thrilled you listen to ASMR. Especially that one.”
His eyes glittered like dark gems beneath the sun. I started drowning in those eyes again, how they spoke a language all their own. And right then, they confided he was equal parts enthralled and confused, as if he had no idea what to make of me.
That makes two of us.
Suddenly, he seemed to decide that whatever I was, he would lean into it. Into me. “It’s my favorite,” he confessed.
I swayed toward him, wanting to lap those words off his lips. But he stiffened and pulled away, pushing the phone playing the ASMR I knew so well into the pocket of the hoodie.
“I should go,” he said, backing away like a wary animal.
“Yeah, okay.” I agreed, not wanting to let him go but willing to in order to gain his trust.
As he retreated, I couldn’t help but wonder what he would say if I told him last night wasn’t the first time my whisper had calmed him down. That the ASMR he claimed was his favorite was mine.
9
Prism
Discombobulated.
The word sounded exactly the way I was feeling. Out of sorts. Going in several directions at once. Confused.
What the hell just happened?
