Chapter 16
Rock my World (And my Couch)
Thunder cracked, rattling the windows, and the fire of the candle flame flickered, but I barely noticed over the half-naked tattooed man standing in my kitchen.
I tugged at the hem of my oversized shirt, painfully aware of how it hung awkwardly off one shoulder, and wished I had taken the time to at least run a brush through my tangled, wet hair.
We weren't even completely dressed before the power in the old building went out, and we had to find all the candles in my apartment.
Matt moved around the kitchen. Each time he glanced my way, my heart skipped a beat, and a warm flutter rippled through my stomach. I caught myself holding my breath, only to release it in a shaky exhale when he turned away.
He made me nervous, not in an I-want-to-throw-up way, but in a butterflies-in-my-stomach kind of way.
Glancing out the corner of my eyes, I studied him.
His island-tanned skin glistened in the candlelight, and his dark hair fell loosely to his shoulders in wet waves.
He stood shirtless in a pair of low, very low, dangerously low-hanging grey sweatpants and nothing else.
He reached for the wine bottle, arm stretching across the counter. The movement pulled his shoulders taut, and I found myself tracing the line of muscle with my eyes. When he caught me staring, heat pooled low in my belly. "See something you like?" His voice was rougher than before.
I forced my eyes back to his face, but they betrayed me, dropping to trace the lean muscle of his torso before I could stop them. When I realized where I was looking, I jerked my gaze away, but the damage was done.
I bit my lip, my mouth suddenly dry. Unbidden, images flashed through my mind: his hands on my skin, his body pressing me into the mattress, his lips on mine.
"Earth to Brooke." His voice snapped me back to reality, a hint of amusement in his tone.
I blinked, heat creeping up my neck. "Hmm?"
"You seem… lost in thought." His lips quirked into a half-smile.
"Oh, I was just," I fumbled for words, "admiring the, uh, craftsmanship. Of your tattoos."
He chuckled, low and warm. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
He slid the wine toward me, his fingers brushing mine as I reached for it. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved to break the contact. Then Karen's judgmental meow shattered the moment, and we both pulled back, laughing.
"Your cat is staring at me.".
I looked up at Karen, who was perched on top of the refrigerator, giving him the stink eye. "She's particular about humans."
He cocked a brow. "Particular, how?"
"Well, she hates everyone." I tucked a wet strand of hair behind my ear. "She tortured my ex."
Matt smiled. "Smart cat."
Karen preened, clearly pleased with the compliment, but her suspicious glare never wavered.
The look in Matt's eyes screamed that he had something to say or a question to ask.
I raised an eyebrow. "You've got that look."
He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away. "What look?"
"The one that says you're dying to ask me something." I took a sip of wine, waiting.
He pursed his lips as his eyes scanned over my face like he was reading me, trying to determine whether he should say whatever it was. "Do you want to find love again?"
I smiled. "Yes." I dropped my gaze to my glass of wine.
"You know, it's kind of weird. When you showed up in my life, I think I'd convinced myself that my ex was right and that the dating world was hard for me, but you made me realize I never even really gave myself a chance.
I never really put myself out there to date.
" My gaze lifted, meeting his, something shifting in his eyes.
"Is that what you want to do?" He pushed up on the counter, flattening his palms and stiffening his arms. "Do you want to put yourself out there and date?"
My heart raced, hope and fear warring within me.
I searched his face for any sign of insincerity, any hint that this was too good to be real.
But all I found was open vulnerability in his eyes, a mirror to my own doubts and desires.
The possibility of something real, something lasting, stretched between us like a tightrope—thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.
I slid off my stool and moved to the large window overlooking the city and the bay. The rain was still pouring down.
Even with my back turned, I could sense him moving behind me.
The air crackled with energy, making my skin prickle with awareness.
Sucking in a deep breath, I slowly exhaled as his heat surrounded me.
"It's hard to want that," I dropped my voice to a low whisper, "when there's this perfect man standing here in my apartment. "
My eyes fluttered closed as he slid my hair off my bare shoulder, brushing his fingertips along my heated skin. "But?"
"But… When something seems too good to be true, it usually is." He dropped his mouth to the bare skin of my shoulder, and I tilted my head, giving him access to whatever he wanted. "And something as perfect as you has to be too good to be true."
"Ah," he smiled against my skin, and I literally melted. "So the problem is you think I'm perfect." He brushed his lips over my shoulder and up my neck. The coarse hair of his beard sent chills racing over my body.
"Mmhmm," I hummed as my stomach fluttered. "And I should definitely trust my judgment."
"Well, then I have some disappointing news for you.
" Matt's fingers splayed across my hips, the heat of his palms searing through the thin fabric of my shirt.
He pulled me flush against him, his breath fanning hot against my ear.
"I hate sharing. Like, irrationally hate it.
I once got into an argument with a five-year-old over the last cookie.
" His voice was a low growl that sent shivers cascading down my spine.
His lips brushed the sensitive skin just below my ear, and I had to stifle a gasp. "I don't want to share you."
I laughed, but it came out sounding more like a moan. "That's actually kind of concerning."
"It gets worse. I'm also a complete slob. I throw clothes all over the floor."
"Big red flag." I fought back a smile, keeping my eyes closed, savoring the feel of him.
"And I'm lazy sometimes. Last Sunday, I spent four hours on the couch watching cooking shows and eating cereal for dinner."
"The man who gets up at dawn to work out is lazy?"
"Hey, everyone needs a day off from being magnificent."
I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning now. "Wait… You eat cereal?"
"Only for dinner."
"Anything other flaws I should know about?"
"Yeah." His voice dropped to a mock-serious whisper. "I have a really dirty sense of humor. Like, I still laugh at bathroom jokes."
"Scandalous," I deadpanned.
"I warned you." His hands slipped under the hem of my shirt, slowly sliding it up, and I was thankful for the darkness.
As much as I wanted this, as much as I wanted him, my insecurities were still very present.
"Still think I'm perfect?" I lifted my arms, letting him slide my shirt over my head.
"See," he tossed my shirt onto the floor, "slob. "
I twisted in his arms, my gaze lifted, meeting his. "Well, you're clearly a disaster of a human being."
"The worst," he agreed.
"I guess I'll have to learn to live with it."
"Is that so?" His eyes lit up with hope and mischief.
I nodded as he brushed his knuckles across my collarbone. "Well, someone has to keep you in line. Make sure you don't get into any more fights with kindergarteners over baked goods."
"Good," he smirked, walking backward and guiding us into the living room.
He dropped back onto the couch, leaving me standing, and his heated gaze was so intense as it raked over me that I almost moved to cover myself.
He hooked his hands around the back of my knees and jerked, making my legs buckle and causing me to straddle him. My hands slapped onto his shoulders as my ass dropped onto his lap. His back lifted from the couch, shoving his chest into mine, and his warm hands slid up my sides.
A rush of heat flooded through me, settling low in my belly. My breath caught in my throat, and my thighs squeezed around him, acutely aware of a pulsing ache building between them. Every nerve ending seemed to come alive, hypersensitive to the slightest movement or touch.
Brushing his lips across mine, he moved across my cheek and stopped at my ear. "I also have a really dirty fucking mouth," his tone was low and seductive, and his words mixed with the heat of his breath, made my pussy throb.
His hand flicked over my bra, and before I knew it, he was sliding it off my arms and tossing it to the floor. "Slob," he repeated, falling back to the couch and letting his gaze rake over my bare chest.
The candlelight flickered across my skin, and I instinctively felt the need to cover myself. But as his hungry eyes roamed over me, drinking in every curve, my arms slowly lowered. For the first time, I saw myself reflected in his gaze, alluring, desirable, sexy.
"You are so fucking beautiful, Brooke," he murmured as his gaze lifted, meeting mine.
I dropped my chest to his, brushing my lips across his. "I've never wanted anything as much as I want you right now."
His hands slid into my hair, fingers threading through the damp strands with surprising gentleness.
"Is that the alcohol talking?"
I shook my head, the movement barely perceptible. "Maybe giving me courage." My voice was barely a whisper. "But no."
The tenderness in his touch vanished. His grip tightened, and his mouth crashed against mine with a sudden, desperate hunger.
He shifted his weight underneath me and lifted his hips so I could feel all of him. He was long, thick, and hard, and my hips instinctively rolled over him. He released a low groan deep in his chest as I slid back and forth over his length, nearly coming unglued when my clit hit his wide head.