Chapter 6 #2
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” I smooth aside some of his hair, fingers grazing his neck, and when he shudders, I pull away guiltily.
“Like that. I just want to touch you and watch you at all times, and I’m going to do my best to refrain, but if you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit impulsive with my affection. ”
“I think compulsive might be a better word.” There’s no heat, just a quiet amusement. “And the urge is there for me, too, so no worries here.”
We end up smiling at each other, full and goofy. “Aren’t we a pair?” I say and fight back a yawn that rises up. “How are you doing? Really?”
We’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch now, Matty with his arms crossed and feet planted on the middle cushion, me leaning against the arm rest on my side so I can watch him.
“I’m okay,” he says into his knees, blowing a frustrated raspberry. “It’s just … kind of a long story. And I’m not sure I have it in me to go into it right now.”
I drum my fingers on my cushion inches from his toes, and despite my earlier remark, my self control flies out the window. My fingers wrap around his ankle and smooth over the skin until a comfortable calmness forms in my chest.
“Would you like me to let you get back to sleep or give you a distraction?”
“I don’t think I could sleep again if I tried.” He blows out a tired breath. “What do you have in mind?”
I hop out of my seat. “Just a sec.”
After a quick trip to my room—where I take the time to pick up Cal and move him to his own bed—I round back to Matty with a grin and my phone in my hand. I search through the music app until I find something I’m happy with, and then set it on the coffee table and hold a hand out to Matty.
“Dance with me?”
It takes my breath away when his eyes light up, when they travel from my hand to my face and a childlike giddiness appears in them.
He holds up a finger and walks over to the bookshelf, pushing onto his tip toes to reach the top and grab his little silver box. With the hearing aids popped in, he walks back to me with all of the sass from that first night.
“You don’t have to ask me twice.”
Matty cocks his head as a soft piano and deep voice fills the room. It's not particularly slow or fast, just broody and heavy a lot like what I’d dance to at the club.
Most of my song choices come from there.
He grabs my hand without an ounce of hesitation and spins around. I keep a firm grip on him, letting his body move into mine. Away again. His laugh rings out as his hair whips around his face.
For a moment, we separate, and it's like the park all over again. I'm so struck watching him effortlessly twist and sway his body in indescribable ways that I don't remember to move.
There's a glint in his eyes when ours meet. He pauses for a breath just to grab his hair in his fists and knot it up into a loose ponytail, and then he's moving again and—
Goddamn he’s beautiful.
I'll say it a hundred times if I have to.
When his hands find mine again, he's done letting me be a spectator.
The beat deepens. Gets heavier. Faster. Matty grins wickedly.
He plants my hands on his waist and brings us into motion, guiding me about so we twist around each other.
His hands are everywhere: my arms, my biceps, my waist, my neck, never any one spot for more than a few seconds.
He’s focused on his own body, on how the music pulses through him and how he can pour it back out.
It’s so easy to get lost in his joy, and I get a burning twitch in my fingers to see if he follows as well as he leads.
I wait for another beat change—something sharp—and snap his hips to mine.
He squeaks but is quick to recover, leaning into the hand I slide up his back. One hand pushes his hips to sway, the other holding him close so he can’t back away. It’s incredible how he melts into the movement, how he closes his eyes and lets his head hang back.
My fingers on his waist drop to his hip, and when he feels the indecisive twitch of my grip, he peeks his eyes open again and smiles.
Why is this so ridiculously fun?
I tighten my hand on his hip and tap his thigh lightly, and when confusion flitters across his features, I bring both hands to the back of his thighs and tug.
Wide eyes gaze at my face, but the big ass grin is already forming on his lips again. He winds his arms around my neck, and I tighten my hold at the same time he jumps up. Legs hook around my hips, and the absolute strength of them blows me away.
He presses his face in close, cheeks red from exertion. “I won’t be able to hear anything you say to me right now. Music is too loud. My heart is pumping too hard.”
I’m half tempted to lift him onto my shoulders, half wanting to impress him and half just wanting his body as close to mine as it can get without things taking a sexual turn.
Which makes the sensual way he rolls his body on mine that much more damning.
I hold his thighs steady, and as the thundering end to the song plays over my phone’s crappy speakers, I walk us the few feet back to the couch and throw on my own indulgent smile and drop us both to the cushions.
His laughter puffs across my face, one of his hands gripping tight into my hair.
We’re under every point of contact. I have one foot on the ground, one knee dug into the cushion; Matty’s legs are still holding tight around me; I’ve got one arm wrapped around his waist, the other around his shoulders so the fall doesn’t hurt him.
The song is seconds away from being over, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck to catch my breath. I can physically feel his pulse hammering through a vein in his throat, my own marching to its own identical beat.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, knowing he won’t pick up on it.
Knowing in my heart the words sound almost like a fidelity. An oath.
A promise I might one day have to break, so it’s made only to myself.
If anyone’s heart is going to be broken from being in each other’s orbit, I’ll make damn sure that it’s mine.