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Lowering my face, I kissed the corner of his mouth. He made a sound and puckered his lips. Chuckling, I slid over, lining us up so I could kiss him fully on the mouth, flicking my tongue out to flirt with his.
Want swelled inside me, stirring my cock and heating the blood in my veins. I already called him mine, and the urge to claim him grew greater every minute in his presence.
Pulling back, I swiped my tongue over my lower lip, making sure I got every last taste. “Want me to make the bed for you?”
“I should wash them first.”
I hummed. “It’s pretty late. Maybe just sleep on them tonight, then wash them in the morning?”
He thought about it, the concentration on his face completely adorable. “Yeah, okay.”
I was hard-pressed to roll from on top of him, but I did, swiftly getting to my feet. With my back turned, I slyly adjusted my junk and then bent to retrieve the new bedding.
My heart pinched at the sight of Matthew sitting in the middle of the mattress, his dark head and eyes the only thing visible from within the pink folds of the blanket.
“I can’t make the bed with you still in it,” I teased.
He brought his fist up, palm down, and I reached mine out so he could drop the AirPods into the center. I put them in the case, and when I was done, he was standing on one foot at the end of the bed, the other braced flat on his calf.
“You look like a flamingo,” I mused.
Scowling, he put down his foot, concealing a grimace at the carpet underfoot. I thought of how inflamed and bruised the skin looked and then recalled how he said sometimes it felt like his body was screaming but no one heard. Glancing around, I didn’t see what I was after, so I bent and tugged my trainers off.
“What are you doing?”
Carrying them over, I set them at his feet. “Put these on.”
“What for?” he said, suspicious.
He knew why, but I answered him anyway. “So your feet don’t touch the carpet.”
“I can wear socks.”
Stubborn. “I’ll get you some. They in the dresser yet?” I asked, turning to pull open a drawer. After grabbing a pair, I turned back. He was standing there in my shoes.
“You have big feet,” he grumped.
“Lucky you,” I told him, wagging my eyebrows.
His stare automatically dropped to the front of my chinos. It was enough to have my dick stirring again, and I turned back to toss the socks where I’d gotten them.
I really hadn’t come here for sex, but it seemed being alone with him in such close proximity to a bed after he gave me a nickname and smiled while all wrapped in pink was too much for my hormones to handle.
Claim. Claim. Claim.
What the fuck am I, a caveman?
“They’re designer.”
“What?” I said, hearing his voice but the words not penetrating. Then my brain caught up. “Oh,” I said, flicking a glance at the Louis Vuittons. Shrugging, I said, “I like shoes.”
Pulling the blanket off, he draped it carefully over the top of the dresser, and we got to work putting the new sheets on the mattress. They fit well and were relatively unwrinkled. I noticed him giving the pillowcase a sly sniff and wondered if scent was something that bothered him as well. But he said nothing and tugged it onto the pillow just seconds after, so I figured either way, it was fine.
Once the set was on the bed, I pulled the tags and ribbon off the other blanket I’d bought, feeling his eyes the entire time I worked. I shook it out, expecting him to grab the side closest to him and help drape it on the bed.
He didn’t. In fact, he seemed to forget the task, too caught up in staring across the bed. I worked under the heated gaze, awareness prickling my skin and tension growing thick in the room. And if I flexed my arms a little more than necessary, fussed with the edge of the blanket more than needed… well, I was just giving him a good view.
“Can I see your tattoos?”
