10. All Bets Are Off
Chapter ten
All Bets Are Off
Matt
Tonight was a fucking whirlwind. The kiss. The conversation. The text. Too much to process, too much to untangle. But none of it matters, because the only thing I can focus on is keeping Melina safe.
That fucker was here. An hour ago. Watching her, taunting her. Not again. Not on my watch.
She reappears with a blanket and pillow. “This should work.”
Instead of taking them, I catch her wrist and tug her toward me. She doesn’t resist. I wrap her in my arms, and she exhales, fingers curling into my shirt like she’s finally letting herself breathe.
“You’re safe,” I whisper. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She pulls back, tilting her face up to mine. Her eyes are tired but trusting.
“You look exhausted,” I say, brushing her hair aside. “Sleep. I’m here.”
She nods. “Okay. If you need something, holler.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Pretty sure it’s meant to be the other way around, babe.”
That earns me a small smile before she disappears.
I stretch out on the couch, hands folded behind my head, staring at the ceiling. But she’s still all over me—her scent, her warmth, the memory of her pressed against my chest.
What the fuck am I supposed to do about this girl? I’m falling. Fast. And for the first time in my life—
I’m scared as hell.
***
Not even twenty minutes pass before I hear the soft creak of her door opening. Instantly alert, I turn, already pushing up on my elbows.
She stands in the doorway, arms crossed, silhouetted in the dim light. Hesitant. Conflicted.
“Are you okay?” I ask, sitting up fully now.
“No.”
That’s all I need. I’m on my feet and in front of her in three strides. She lifts her chin, but her eyes give her away—vulnerable, unsteady, raw.
“Do you think you’d still be able to behave yourself from in here?” she asks softly.
My throat works. “With you?”
She hesitates, then nods.
“I’ll keep my hands to myself,” I murmur, even if it kills me.
I take her hand, threading my fingers through hers, and let her lead me to the bed.
She climbs in first. I follow, and we settle on opposite sides. Space between us, but I feel her everywhere—her breathing, every shift of the mattress. No way in hell I’m sleeping.
The silence hums, thick with words left unsaid. She’s thinking—head spinning too fast to hide it.
I glance at her, brow raised. “Spit it out.”
She blinks. “What?”
I smirk. “You’ve got something on your mind. I can tell. So say it.”
A pause. Then a slow exhale.
“When’s the last time you slept in bed with someone?”
Simple question. Not a simple answer. Speaking it out loud feels different. Will my response freak her out? Make me sound like a player?
Maybe I was, once. But it’s been over a year. And this? This is nothing like that.
“I never have.”
She stares. “What? Are you serious?”
I half-shrug, eyes sliding away. “Yeah.”
“You’ve… been with a woman though, right?”
I give her a flat look. Deadpan. She groans and covers her face with her hands.
“Yeah, yeah. Stupid question. Never mind.”
A lazy grin tugs at my mouth. “I like it when you’re jealous.”
She lets out an exasperated laugh, shaking her head. “I’m not jealous.” But the flush creeping down her neck suggests otherwise. “Okay, maybe a little.”
My smirk deepens. Interesting.
“When’s the last time you…” I let it trail off, eyes fixed on her.
She smiles, playful. “What—slept with someone? Or just slept in bed with someone?”
“Both.” I don’t know if I want the answer, but fuck if I don’t ask, anyway.
She exhales. “A few months ago.”
A sharp pang settles in my gut. Ridiculous. She has three kids. Two ex-husbands. Of course, she’s been with other men.
“Who was it?” I say quietly.
She grins, mischievous. “Some guy I picked up in a bar.”
I shoot her a disapproving glance, and she laughs. “I’m kidding, Matt. Jesus, I’m kidding.”
I narrow my gaze. “Not funny.”
Her amusement lingers, soaking in my reaction. “I met on Bumble,” she says finally. “We went on a few dates.”
I study her. “What happened?”
She sighs, dramatically. “He was lousy in the sack.”
I glare at her, and she breaks into full-on laughter. “You think you’re hilarious, huh?” I growl, tickling her waist until she squeals and squirms against me.
She swats at me, breathless. “Okay, okay—no more jokes.”
I smile smugly, propping myself on one elbow. “Well, that won’t be a problem for us.”
She arches a brow. “That so?”
My tone drops dangerously low. “Mm-hm. I’ll ruin you for anyone else. Bet on it.”
Her breath catches, cheeks flushing pink. I skim my knuckles along her cheek, voice husky. “Do you have any idea how much I want you?”
Her eyes darken just enough to make my pulse kick. “I have a pretty good idea.”
Then she leans in, catching me off guard, and presses her lips to mine—soft at first, then deeper. Her fingers knot in my hair, tugging until my head dips. She drags hot, wet kisses down my throat, and a raw moan tears out of me.
“Fuck, Melina…”
That’s it. My restraint snaps. I roll on top of her, crushing my mouth against hers. Tongues tangling. Desperate. My palm slides beneath thin fabric, finding the gentle swell of her breast, kneading, rolling her nipple until she gasps.
She arches into me, nails scraping down my spine, the noise she makes nearly wrecks me.
For a few stolen seconds, it’s nothing but fire and hunger—her kiss, her body, the taste of her.
Then control slams back, sharp and brutal. I rip free and force myself upright, braced against the headboard, lungs dragging for air.
“I’m so sorry,” I rasp. “I got carried away.”
She doesn’t hesitate. In one motion, she swings a leg over and settles onto my lap. My palms grip her waist, anchoring, as she meets my gaze. “Hey. It’s okay.”
“No,” I grind out, jaw tight. “It’s not. I promised you I’d keep my hands to myself.”
She chuckles quietly. “Well, I didn’t exactly make it easy on you.”
A faint smile pulls. “I mean, you did go in for the kill. Kissing my neck like that, all bets are off.”
She laughs again, the sound warm against the tension still coiled in my chest.
“I love hearing you laugh,” I admit, low.
Her expression softens. “You help me forget all the shit that’s going on.”
“Speaking of,” I murmur, running my thumb along her hip, “we’ve got an early morning at the precinct. We should sleep.”
Her brow arches. “Is that your way of telling me to get the hell off you?”
I huff. “No. But the longer you straddle me, the harder it is to resist my urges.”
Her eyes spark, teasing. “What urges are those?”
My voice drops, gravelly and certain. “The ones where you wake up sore and satisfied.”
She laughs again, and she slides off my lap. “Okay, soldier. If you say so.”
I rake a palm through my hair, exhaling. “All right, but I’m not sleeping in these jeans.”
I strip out of them fast, kicking them aside, then pull off my shirt and toss it on the chair.
Her gaze flicks down to the bulge in my boxers. Her breath hitches, but she recovers quickly, tilting her head with a sly smile. “Well,” she whispers, “I usually sleep naked.”
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
A groan rumbles out of me as I drop face-first into the pillow, gripping the edge like it might keep me together. “What are you doing to me?” The words come out rough, muffled.
She chuckles, clearly enjoying herself.
We settle under the covers, the charge still there but softer. Melina shifts closer, her leg brushing against me, and I slide an arm around her waist. She exhales, pressing back, her hand finding mine beneath the sheets.
It’s not sexual—not now. It’s grounding. Gentle. Her breathing evens out until she’s out cold—finally at peace. I hold her, feeling the weight of her against me, the rhythm of her breaths filling spaces I didn’t know were empty.
I can’t let go of this moment. She feels like home. Eventually I close my eyes, and for once, I don’t fight it when I start to doze.
***
I wake before she does.
Morning light filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. Melina is wrapped around me—one leg slung over mine, arm curled beneath her, fingertips pressing lightly against my ribs.
I’m hyper-aware of my body’s reaction to her. I force myself to stay still—not focus on her pressed against me in a way that’s doing absolutely nothing to help my… situation.
She shifts in her sleep, fingers sliding down my stomach, settling above my waistband—dangerously close to places I can’t let myself think about. She presses a soft kiss to my chest. Then again. My breath catches.
She’s not even awake. It’s instinct. Habit. Something unconscious and intimate that sends a sharp bolt of heat through me. Has she ever kissed another man like this while sleeping? The thought punches through me, but I shove it down.
I slide an arm around her, tracing the line of her spine. She lets out a breathy moan that nearly undoes me.
Fuck.
My hand drifts lower, resting on the curve of her ass—the kind made to be gripped while she rides you, writhing and moaning, clenching tight.
Jesus, Mason. Pump the brakes.
I exhale hard, my grip tightening before I pull back. I need distance. Now.
She doesn’t stir as I slip out of bed, just curls into the space I leave behind. I yank on my shirt and jeans and head for the kitchen in search of food.
Breakfast is the one meal I actually enjoy making. I scan her pantry and spot a bag of chocolate chips. Perfect. I grab what the ingredients and start mixing the batter, the familiar motion grounding me.
My phone pings on the counter. I wipe my hands on a dish towel, pick it up, and swipe my thumb across the screen. Steele.
10 AM at the precinct. You bringing Melina or flying solo?
I’ll see what she wants to do.
Any new developments overnight?
No.
Good. Any… other… new developments?
I roll my eyes. Saw that one coming.
Drop it.
So that’s a yes.
That’s a shut the fuck up.
Uh-huh. Noted.
I set the phone down, rub the back of my neck, and flip the pancakes. I’m fucked. This thing with her…it’s a slow unravel. Dangerous as hell.
I take a breath and focus on the task at hand. The griddle hisses, pancakes sizzling as the scent of butter and chocolate fills the kitchen. I catch the last one on the spatula as soft footsteps pad into the room.
Melina appears, hair wild from sleep, in nothing but an oversized T-shirt and panties. My stomach tightens instantly.
She stops, eyes widening as she takes in the scene. “You cook?”
I smirk, grabbing a plate. “Eh… that may be a stretch.”
Her lips twitch.
“I cook breakfast,” I clarify with a shrug. “Most important meal of the day.”
She steps in close behind me, arms circling around my waist, peering over my shoulder. Warm. Intimate. It nails me square in the chest.
Without thinking, I press a gentle kiss against hair. “Chocolate chip pancakes.”
“Mmm. Smells delicious.”
I plate one and hand it to her. “When’s the last time someone made you breakfast?”
“That would be a never.”
I freeze. “You’re kidding.”
She shakes her head. Something sharp twists in my gut. I have no right to hate the men who came before me, but God help me—I do. How do you have someone like her and not want to give her everything?
“Well, babe,” I say quietly, “it seems it’s a morning of firsts for both of us.”
Her brows lift, curious. “What do you mean?”
I set the spatula down and turn toward her. Her eyes search mine as I tuck a loose strand behind her ear, knuckles grazing her cheek.
“Never slept in bed with a woman means never woken up with one either,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Her mouth parts, a soft smile tugging. She likes that. She likes being my first.
“So…” she teases, “how was it?”
I study her—the pink of her lips, how she fits so perfectly against me, the look on her face—like maybe, just maybe, she’s falling too.
I lean in and murmur, “Best fucking way I’ve ever started my day.”