Chapter 17
Trust Falls and Shower Walls
My eyes eased open, a warmth spreading through my chest as memories of last night flooded forward. I shifted in the bed, reaching out instinctively, fingers meeting cold sheets. My heart clenched, that familiar ache of disappointment seeping in. The other side of the bed was empty.
He was gone.
I knew better than to get my hopes up, but I did.
Rolling over, I tossed my feet off the bed, curling my toes on the cool floor. A cocktail of emotions swirled through my chest as I reached for my t-shirt and pulled it over my head.
It was five in the morning, and I had to be at a café by six-thirty. So, it was time to get up.
Wiping my eyes, I stumbled toward the kitchen, prepared to find Karen destroying something, when I froze in the doorway.
There, standing at the kitchen sink in nothing but gym shorts and a light sheen of sweat, was six feet four inches of pure, ridiculous attractiveness.
Matt was not only still here, he was apparently trying to domesticate the coffee maker while looking like he'd stepped out of a fitness magazine.
My breath caught, and a surge of warmth flooded through me, part relief, part desire, and an unexpected feeling of rightness that both thrilled and terrified me.
"Please tell me you're not actually a morning person." My voice came out as an attractive croak. "Because if you are, this relationship is doomed."
He looked up, grinning in a way that should have been illegal before sunrise. "Good morning, beautiful."
"Fair warning, I'm much more charming after I've had coffee and convinced myself I'm a functioning adult."
"I thought you were a morning person?"
"I am, after my coffee."
He laughed.
"I thought you left." The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered. I immediately wanted to snatch them back, to hide the vulnerability they exposed.
His gaze flicked back to what he was doing. "No, I went out for my morning run."
"You went running? It's not even light out!"
"I usually run at four, then hit the gym. But running along the bay was incredible. Way better than my usual treadmill torture session."
I stepped closer, inhaling his post-workout scent, which should have been gross but somehow made me want to lick his collarbone.
The air between us crackled with an invisible energy.
My skin prickled, hyper-aware of every inch that separated us.
I found myself leaning towards him, my body betraying my attempts at casual indifference. "So you're heading to the gym now?"
"Nope." He turned, cupping my face with hands that were surprisingly gentle for someone who could probably bench press a small car. "I'm making you breakfast, driving you to work, and then pretending to be a productive member of society at a meeting with my agent."
"But don't you always go to the gym after running?"
"Not today." He leaned down to brush his lips against mine in a kiss that made my knees wobble. "Today I'm yours until eight. Do you like omelets?"
"I love omelets," I managed, though honestly, he could have suggested tree bark and I would have been enthusiastic.
"Then go shower, get ready for work, and breakfast will be served when you are done."
"Do you need a shower?" His eyes locked onto mine, darkening slightly, and I realized that my question sounded more like an invitation than just an innocent question.
Time seemed to stretch, each second an eternity, as I waited for his response.
The corner of his lips twitched, a ghost of a smile that sent my heart racing.
"I mean," I stammered, heat creeping up my neck. "You're all sweaty and…" I trailed off.
"So…" His voice dropped low, a dangerous rumble that sent shivers racing down my spine. "That wasn't an invite to join you?" The air between us felt charged, electric. One wrong move, and I'd burst into flames. Or worse… I’d want to. He chuckled, the sound both teasing and tempting.
"I…"
He laughed. "If it's okay with you, I'll grab a quick one while you eat, and then we can head to the café."
"Yeah," I smiled, my shoulders relaxing. "Your clothes from yesterday should be in the dryer."
"Perfect."
"Okay," I smiled. "I guess I'll go jump in the shower."
Spinning on my heels, I strolled away, disappearing down the hallway and walking into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
I met my gaze in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me.
My fingers trembled as they found the hem of my shirt, lifting it slowly.
The fabric brushed against my skin, and suddenly I was back in last night's memories, his hands replacing mine, his breath hot on my neck.
Goosebumps erupted across my flesh, a visible wave that started at my arms and raced across my body, and I shivered.
My gaze trailed over my curves. The way Matt looked at me made me feel beautiful. I couldn't remember a time someone had looked at me like that.
And it terrified me.
That look was like a drug I could easily become addicted to, a heady mixture of desire and appreciation that made me feel simultaneously powerful and vulnerable.
Hell, I was already craving another hit, even as a part of me recoiled in fear.
The intensity of my own feelings terrified me, how quickly I was falling, how easily I could shatter if everything went wrong.
My gaze shifted to the door as I nervously chewed on my lip.
Putting myself out there after being burned was so hard.
The fear of rejection was always present, a constant whisper in the back of my mind.
It reminded me of all those nights I spent wondering why I wasn't enough for my ex, why my father seemed to doubt that I would find love on my own.
But the way Matt looked at me and the way he kissed me made me want to silence those doubts, even if just for a moment.
I jerked a large, white, fluffy towel from the rack, wrapping it around myself like armor.
My heart thundered in my chest, a mix of excitement and fear making my hands tremble.
This might be the craziest thing I've ever done, putting myself out there so boldly.
But beneath the fear, a newfound courage pulsed.
I wanted him, wanted to feel that connection again, that sense of being truly seen.
The desire thrummed through me, drowning out the whispers of doubt.
I squared my shoulders, hand hovering over the doorknob.
One deep breath. Two. On the third, I twisted the handle and stepped into the hallway.
Each step down the dark, narrow hall felt like a mile, my heart thundering louder with every foot that brought me closer to the kitchen…
to him. I paused at the threshold, gathering every ounce of courage I possessed.
Then, steeling myself for whatever came next, I stepped into view.
"Everything oka…" His words faded out as he sucked in a harsh breath. His heated gaze trailed over every inch of me, and even though he looked at me like he wanted me, I suddenly lost my confidence because of that stupid fear of rejection.
"Uh," I stammered. "Yeah, it's just…"
He dropped the fork he was holding in the sink. "What is it, Brooke?" His voice dropped to a low, husky whisper.
"I, uh," I stiffened my spine. I could do this. "I don't have great hot water, and usually, there's only enough for one shower." My confidence trickled down with each word. "So…"
"So?"
"So… Unless you want a cold shower." I paused, swallowing hard. "We should probably share."
His eyes locked onto mine, holding me hostage in the silence between my question and his answer, that suspended moment when rejection seemed not just possible but inevitable.
Time stretched, each heartbeat an eternity filled with doubt before he surged forward, closing the distance between us, his hands gripping my face as his lips crashed hard against mine, stealing my breath.
I tasted his tongue as he slipped it past my parted lips. He moved us forward, and I moved backward with him until we were in the bathroom. My towel dropped to the ground, the water kicked on, and we were in the shower without ever breaking from the kiss.
His hot, wet, naked chest pressed into mine, and I trailed my fingers over the wet curves of his rock-hard abs until I reached the hem of his shorts as he thrust his tongue in and out of my mouth in frantic strokes.
His hands roamed over my body, caressing all of my curves, and I didn't shy away. I craved more.
My hand wrapped around his length through his wet shorts.
Matt's dick was hard against my palm, straining to come out and play.
He groaned into my mouth as I teased him with slow strokes, savoring his reaction.
Hot water sprayed over us as I pulled away from his kiss, gasping for air, but he didn't give me a second; his mouth moved over my jaw and down my throat.
"Fuck," he groaned against my skin. "You're going to make me come in my shorts."
Any bit of anxiety I had disappeared seeing how desperate and needy he was for me. A slow smile spread across my face.
His reaction transformed me, vertebra by vertebra, my posture shifting from uncertain to commanding as power hummed through my bloodstream, a narcotic more potent than any confidence I'd felt before.
For once, I didn't feel the need to hide or apologize for my desires.
Shoving me against the wall, his eyes, dark and hungry, roamed over me like he was starving and I was the last thing there was to eat. The raw want in his gaze made my skin tingle, awakening nerve endings I'd forgotten existed.
Sliding my fingers into the waistband of his shorts, I shoved them down, and his dick sprang free as his shorts dropped to the tile floor. My gaze lowered, taking in all of him.
Holy fuck.
He was hard and huge, and that was all for me.