9. Wyatt
9
WYATT
Not content with leaving things where they are, I take it a step further. I always have. I can’t help myself.
It’s how I managed to work my way up in my career. I never knew when to stop.
Maybe it’s a step too far, but given the fact he’s tricked me into marriage, I figure it’s warranted.
Some might argue that he didn’t trick me—The Firm did. But seeing as how they aren’t here and he is, it’s fair game to me.
After dinner, I move into the bedroom and take my time in the bathroom, opening up each of the glass bottles and inhaling deeply. I hate that all of it smells good, that it makes something inside of me twist.
With a flick of my wrist, I turn on the water, feeling how hot it gets. Without a second thought, I step underneath the spray, enjoying both the pressure and heat pounding onto my skin from the showerhead. This is something I’d gotten used to living without in the shithole I shared with Jackson. Fuck, I missed this.
I wash slowly, massaging my scalp with the finest shampoo and conditioner before sliding a bar of soap across my skin. It’s luxurious. Rich. I feel like I’m made of money.
When I finally rinse, my skin is pink, my fingers like prunes. The towel is soft and yet it doesn’t shed lint on my skin. Of course he’d find ones that manage to do that. I wrap it around my waist and move to the closet, noticing my things have been put away. Who did that? I know Matthias threatened that it would be done, but good fuck. What poor person found themselves organizing my shit? I pity them.
With a shake of my head, I find my tightest pair of briefs. Pulling them on, I stride to the bed and stare at it. Matthias isn’t here, the muddy footprint pillow staring back at me. I grin as I ogle it before the smile falls from my face and nerves appear.
I have no fucking clue where Matthias is. I haven’t seen him since dinner, but hell if I’m going to let him control my life and take up that much space. Without further hesitation, I crawl onto the mattress, sprawling across the bed, taking up far more than my share of it.
Damn, these are nice sheets. Soft and cool. Probably so fucking expensive too.
Not that I blame him. When I had money, I bought the same sheets the King of England had. It was the main selling point.
I didn’t think they were half bad. The King has good taste in sheets.
I turn my gaze toward the door to the bedroom and put my arms behind my head. I used to have a six-pack when I had a gym membership and enough money to splurge on protein. But now, I’m sadly thin and I could look better.
But I saw how he reacted to me earlier. He probably doesn’t care that I look less than. Fuck, well, now I’m second-guessing myself. I just need to wait for Matthias to see me and decide from there. I’m not expecting much from him, to be honest, but I would like to see his eyes when he sees me all sprawled out.
What I am hoping though is that it’ll show him how ridiculous this “no sex outside marriage” rule is. It doesn’t take a genius to realize what a stupid idea it is. I mean, before Matthias, I wasn’t even interested in finding a hookup. I never have been a one-and-done kinda guy. Deep down, I’m a monogamous man, happiest when in a relationship. One-night stands have never appealed. But now that he’s telling me I can’t have one…
Suddenly I can’t focus on anything else.
I want to fuck everyone I can find. I want to stick my dick in all the holes.
Logically, I know this is me trying to take back control in a situation where I don’t have any.
What I really want is to piss off Matthias.
While I wait for him to arrive, I text Jackson. I’ve heard from him several times already today, but I can’t help but check in. For so long, he’s been my responsibility. It’s weird not having him in the room next to mine.
Wyatt
How’s it going?
Jackson
Dude, we spoke earlier and it’s not even been a full day yet.
It hasn’t? I rub my forehead. Fuck, he’s right. We only dropped him off this morning. This day has lasted forever. It’s the never-ending piece-of-shit day.
I could write a book about this. It would be two hundred thousand words.
Jackson
But it’s still all good.
Are you okay? I’m not happy about this whole situation.
I snort. Yeah. He made that clear yesterday.
Wyatt
It’s fine.
Jackson
If he hurts you, he’ll answer to me.
My heart warms at his brotherly protectiveness. Like Jackson could do anything to Matthias. He’d get destroyed, but I love that he thinks he could.
Wyatt
You don’t need to worry about that.
He’s a prick, but he won’t hurt me.
After chatting for a few more minutes about his accommodations, which are almost as nice as this fucking house, I hear footsteps stroll down the hall. Hastily putting my phone on the nightstand, I arrange myself on the bed. I’m going for casual, one leg propped up, arm under my head.
If this position also shows off my admittedly poor muscle structure, then so be it. There’s nothing I can do about that now.
Matthias enters, his eyes flashing over me. He blinks and turns away, his expression not shifting an inch. It makes something inside of me shrivel.
He walks to a closet and returns with a new pillowcase, quietly replacing the one with the muddy footprint, giving me no satisfaction.
Asshole.
“I’m taking a shower,” he says.
“I’ve taken one already,” I close my eyes and stretch, groaning overly loudly. I peek from between my lids, but Matthias hasn’t even turned. He’s as cold as fucking stone. “Great jets, by the way. It made it quite pleasurable. All that heat and hard…pressure.”
Matthias stops on the threshold of the bathroom, his muscles bunched under his shirt as he grips the doorframe. I smirk, waiting for him to bite.
But he doesn’t.
Of course he doesn’t. I don’t know why I thought he would.
He takes one long, shuddering breath, squares his shoulders, and steps into the bathroom—closing the door behind him with a click.
Fuck.
Well, that didn’t go as planned at all. The muddy footprint, my half-naked body…none of it.
I flop back against the bed with a pout. Looks like I’m going to have to up the stakes if I want to get under his skin. Or maybe I’m fucking crazy and he isn’t even slightly affected by any of the shit I’m throwing his way.
I run a hand through my damp hair and wiggle around on the bed as the shower turns on. I can almost imagine him stripping off his clothes and stepping under the spray—the same place I was just moments ago. Naked. Wet.
I grunt and turn my face into the pillow.
Fuck, I hate this. I hate myself for getting into this mess. I should have found a better way, but at the same time, I have no regrets. Jackson is cared for. Things will turn out all right for him. Me, on the other hand… I have to find a way to best this prick.
Once upon a time, I thought I’d have Matthias in my life forever. But that all changed the night he proved I didn’t truly know him, when he ruined everything in the space of a few hours.
I vowed never to let him back into my world, outside of the odd social function. And now, I’m in his house. In his bed.
His ring on my finger.
I stare at the bathroom door long and hard, so long, in fact, that my eyes start to ache. The water stops and I hear the door to the shower open. Without another thought, I pull my boxers off, looking down at my soft cock and covering it with a sheet, just enough so that Matthias can see I’m naked underneath.
I can’t help myself. He’s so fucking buttoned up, so unreadable. I need a reaction from him. Something to show I’m not the only one struggling with this messed up situation.
The door to the bathroom opens and he steps out, steam billowing around him. Does he not have an exhaust fan in there? Does he like to cook while he bathes?
I don’t have a chance to think about it too hard because he steps forward, a towel around his waist, his hair slicked back, his muscles rippling as he moves. He has that six-pack I don’t. But of course he does. My eyes rove across his chest and I see a tattoo there, right above his right pec. A bird of some sort, black and foreboding.
“You didn’t have that when we were younger,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
Matthias follows my gaze to his tattoo, his darkening as he sees what’s drawn my attention. “A lot about me has changed since then.”
“Not everything.” I swallow as my attention is drawn to his wrist, to the leather bracelet he’s wearing.
The one I gave him for his sixteenth birthday.
Does he always wear it? Or did he find it and put it on just to fuck with me?
His eyes flick down to see what I’m staring at. “No. Not everything.”
There’s a beat where I think he’s waiting for me to ask. But fuck him. I’m not playing his games.
Not when we could be playing my own.
I spread my legs wider, pulling the sheet tighter over my groin. Matthias’s gaze snaps to it like a magnet, his nostrils flaring slightly as he takes me in. I stretch out again, meeting his gaze.
“You always did love playing games,” he comments casually, pulling the towel from around his waist and letting it fall to the floor.
I school my face into something impassive, keeping my eyes fixed on his chest. No lower. “So you do remember…before.”
Matthias pauses, his head tilts to the side. “Of course I do. You’re the one who insists on denying what we were, not me.”
“I don’t deny it,” I lie, remembering that I did that very thing at my engagement party. I’m going to keep arguing with him, but I’m distracted by the fact that he’s walking toward me.
Naked.
Don’t look. Don’t look.
Of course I look. I can’t not. It’s his fault he’s got his huge dick hanging out, like it’s perfectly normal.
To be fair, you’re also naked.
I’m not surprised he’s doing this, but I am surprised by his cock. So much so that I can’t stop staring at it.
It’s bobbing with every step, a thick vein running up one side. It’s huge, thick, and long. Bigger than mine. Thank fuck I decided to cover mine up. I’d be embarrassed by the difference.
“You do,” he says, throwing the sheet back and getting in beside me. “Want me to leave the sheet off so you can carry on staring?”
I huff in annoyance, my face burning as I drag my gaze away. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He slides his hand under the pillow, the sheets sliding down his hips to his ass, exposing one that is most assuredly made from hours in the gym. I wonder if he tops or bottoms. Seems a shame if he doesn’t bottom, with an ass like that. Then again, the same could be said about him topping with that weapon between his legs.
Of course God gave with two hands when it came to designing Matthias Buckingham.
I jolt. Why the fuck am I thinking about Matthias and what he likes in bed? It has nothing to do with me. I don’t plan on ever finding out.
Matthias’s willpower about this whole monogamy bullshit won’t last as long as mine. I can promise you that.
Matthias shuts off the lights. “Go to sleep, Wy.”
My eyes stay completely open, not able to close. I don’t like him telling me what to do. It makes me furious.
Fury —an emotion other than fear and nothingness.
I realize the numbness is gone. I think it vanished the second Matthias slid that ring onto my finger.
Good. I’ll cling to that anger. I’ll make it my fucking comfort blanket if that’s what it takes to stop me from sliding back to that place. The place where nothing existed, other than Jackson’s survival.
With his care handled, I needed to find a new crutch, something to keep me going.
If anger is what I need, that’s fine. I’ve felt little else over the past twenty-four hours.
Given my current living situation, I can’t see it changing anytime soon.
My fingers curl into the bedsheets and I pull them up to my chin, turning on my side and dragging them with me. Matthias pulls back, trying to keep them on him, but I win. I always fucking win in the end. With a yank, I gather all the blankets and sheets to my side of the bed and cocoon myself in them, tucking them under my chin and around my naked skin.
Matthias is silent for a long moment, the only sound is the slide of his limbs against the bed.
And then a laugh, a low, deep thing that makes my warm skin break out in goosebumps.
“Well, played, Wy. Well played.”
And with that, it’s quiet once more.
I sleep fitfully, my dreams only of him.
I can’t escape him. I will never escape.