Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
ZOEY
“ W ill I be treated to your superior defrosting skills again tonight?” I ask, standing in front of his place.
Matt slides the key in the lock. “If reheating food was a sport, I’d be the best and you wouldn’t be so smug.” The door clicks open, and he turns to me. “Wait here.”
Before I have time to ask why, the door shuts in my face. “Okay?”
This is definitely not how I thought the night would start. Though within thirty seconds, Matt is back, one arm behind him.
“Close your eyes,” he says as he guides me into the house.
“Why?”
“Zoé.”
“Okay, okay,” I laugh and obey.
A rustling sound follows as he shifts and places something between us. “Now open them.”
The lavender scent hits me before his words do. When I open my eyes, I’m met with a bouquet in the most gorgeous shades of pink. Butterflies flutter in my stomach.
“I’ve never received this many flowers, except from my mom,” I whisper, dipping my nose and inhaling slowly. I don’t know what I’m savoring more: the beauty of what this man created, the perfect accord of scents, or the way he always manages to make me feel like I matter more than anybody else.
“My fingers have been itching to make bouquets for you since the day you set foot in my store,” he admits. “You get my creative spark going.”
I nod to the flowers. “And what do these mean?”
“Roses are the most obvious.” He takes a step closer, rotating the bouquet.
“They’re a sign of affection. Lavender is a promise to always be there to calm you down when you need it.
And daisies, my personal favorite…” He removes one stem from the arrangement and sets it gently on the ground.
Then he snaps the stalk short and, softly pushing the hair away from my ear, slides the pink flower behind it. “They symbolize new beginnings.”
He lingers there, and on instinct, I lean in.
“Is that what we are?” I grip the sides of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric.
“New beginnings?” He draws me closer.
“Yes,” I murmur.
Matt’s gaze flickers from my lips to my eyes. He’s so close I can feel the warmth radiating from him, the steady beat of his heart, almost in sync with mine.
“You’ve been my new beginning for longer than you know.” His voice is a breath against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “I think I was just waiting for the right moment to let myself believe it.”
Hands tightening, I tilt my head slightly, drawing him in a little more.
So it’s not just me. He feels it too.
That ache stirring deep inside me that roars every time he gets close, every time he touches me, every time he smiles. Hell, even when he looks at me with that smoldering gaze of his. That longing in my bones I cannot shake anymore.
That feeling that he’s forever etched into me and me into him.
“You’re mine too.” The confession tumbles out before I can stop it.
His eyes darken, and the next thing I know, his mouth crashes into mine.
This isn’t just a kiss—it never is with him. It’s all the hunger we’ve been holding back, all the words we’ve been afraid to say.
Every sweep of his tongue is laced with desperation and urgency, as though we’ve both been holding our breath for too long. Every kiss is a spark, every touch a blaze, kindling a fire deep within me that I can’t ignore anymore.
With his hands on my waist, he pulls me flush against him. The world narrows until there’s nothing left but the heat of him, the taste of him, the way he fits against me like we were always meant to be this close.
I melt like wax on a flame.
Head tipped farther, I open more. How can I not want more of him at every turn? How can I resist when his mouth moves with a need that matches my own—wild, untamed, as though he’s been starving for this, for us?
Heat rushes through me as my fingers entangle in his hair of their own accord. I can’t think, can’t breathe. There’s only him, the pressure of his mouth on mine, the weight of his body, desperate and hungry.
When we finally break apart, our chests heaving, Matt rests his forehead against mine, a steady, teasing smile on his lips. “What do you say we skip dinner and jump straight to dessert?”
I laugh. “That’s my favorite part anyway.”
“Mine too.” His hands flex on my waist. “Come on.”
He bends down and picks up the bouquet, then drags me upstairs. In his bedroom, he releases me and fumbles with a small pile of clothing lying on the edge of his bed.
“Sorry about the mess.” He throws them onto the chair in one corner.
“I told you already—it’s fine.” I survey his otherwise very neat room. “Plus, I always expect worse when I date younger boys,” I say with a smirk.
“Oh, younger boys, huh? You’re two years older, Zoé.” He’s in front of me in two strides, loose strands of hair framing his beautiful face. His eyes drop to my mouth. “Let’s see if you still call me that after you’ve screamed my name all night.”
He presses a thumb to my lips, parting them, his attention locked there. He lingers, not moving an inch, not even taking a breath. He just stares.
“Matt?”
With a jolt, he pulls away. He scrubs a hand down his beard. “I need a minute.”
My chest tightens. “What’s wrong?”
When he meets my gaze again, his eyes are full of undiluted want. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about you with me.” He nods toward his bed. “It’s been a while since I brought a woman up here, and I can’t tell you the last time it was a woman I—” He stops short, his features tense.
What was he going to say? A woman I what ?
“It’s a bit overwhelming.” He exhales, the sound raw and pained. “I don’t know where to start.” He takes me in from head to toe. “I always want it all when it comes to you.”
I swallow roughly, blood racing in my veins. “We’ve done this before.”
Matt shakes his head. “Not like this. Not with—” He lets out a shuddering breath.
Not with all these feelings that shouldn’t exist. I know this one. Because it doesn’t make any sense to me either.
“It’s okay.” I take a step closer, pressing my palm to his torso.
He covers my hand with his, threading our fingers together, before bringing my arm to rest around his neck.
“This was never supposed to happen,” he murmurs.
“You were never supposed to be more than a one-time thing. A business arrangement and then back to our separate lives.” He cups my cheek with a tenderness that makes my chest pull tight.
“Why did you have to become so damn important to me?”
I rise onto my tiptoes. “Why did you have to be everything I never knew I needed?”
Without another second’s hesitation, I kiss him.
And in the instant it takes me to knot my fingers around his neck, his hands are on me, exactly where they should have been all along.
“Get me out of these clothes.”
“Gladly.”
He doesn’t stop kissing me as he pops the button of my pants and shimmies the fabric down my hips. My top goes next. Standing in my bra and underwear, I fumble with the buttons on his shirt. I pull hard on them, trying to force them to snap, but nothing gives.
Impatiently. Matt grasps either side and yanks, sending them flying. “There. Is that what you were trying to do?”
A thrill zips up my spine. “Yes.”
With shaky fingers, I slide the fabric down his arms, revealing the defined lines of his biceps, the taut ropes of his forearms, his chiseled frame.
I don’t remember lingering long on his chest the first time—not that I had time before he shoved me up against the closest wall—and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
If I’d gotten this kind of look at the glorious specimen before me, I would have spent weeks daydreaming about his solid arms alone, imagining him out in the forest, chopping wood.
The perfect size to encompass me easily.
And god, I’m ready for him to do just that.
I drag my focus lower, lingering at his navel. Fuck. I guarantee I would have daydreamed about that path of hair disappearing under his belt too.
“There’s no chance I’ll last if you continue to eye fuck me like that.” His voice is low and ragged, dragging heat up my spine.
He takes his fill, his eyes roaming my body. Every of my nerve ending is begging for him to touch, to stroke, to consume me.
When he finally unhooks my bra and tosses it unceremoniously onto the floor, I moan in relief.
Before the sound has time to die, he cups my breast, full and heavy, in his palm and squeezes.
Face buried in my neck, he drops hot kisses below my ear, on my collarbone, my shoulder, until he’s right there.
He hovers over my hard nipple, his warm breath sending goose bumps rippling over my skin.
For a moment, he stays there. As if the bond tugging between us is too much for him, as if he, too, feels the tipping of this unstoppable moment. A before and an after.
But then his mouth is on me, and my mind goes silent.
Back arched, I press myself into his mouth. More, more, more .
“I know, beautiful. Fuck, I know.”
I’m too lost in the flick of his tongue to even question whether I begged him out loud.
His free hand finds my other breast. He rolls my sensitive peak tight between his fingers, then pinches. I gasp, dizzy.
“Fuck, I want to take my time, but I can’t.” He slides against my body, kissing his way down my sternum to my belly, until he’s on his knees before me. “I fucking can’t. Look at you.”
Fingers hooked in the waistband of my panties, he gazes up at me in a silent plea. I’m so wound tight, all I can do is nod.
Slowly, he drags my underwear down my legs, his knuckles brushing against me while his mouth creates a path from my thighs to my knees, then my calves.
Once I’m completely naked, he lets out a ragged breath. “Is this real life? How are you real?”
His hands cup the back of my calves and slide up, his calluses rasping against my skin until he grabs a handful of my ass.
On instinct, I sink my fingers into the softness of his hair.