37. Rule #37 Sharing is fun, but reclaiming is even better.
Amelia
“They’re here!”
Elizabeth’s excited voice chiming through the hallway draws my attention from the patterns I’m sketching in my office. The door flies open, and I glance up at Matis on the other side of the long table with a look of panic on my face.
He pulls his feet down and sets the book in his hand face down to hold his spot.
If Elizabeth finds it strange that he sits in here silently while I work, she doesn’t say anything about it. If she did, how could I explain to her that I focus better when he’s around? His presence eases my mind.
When she barrels in a moment later with a giant garment bag over her shoulder, my heart stops and it distracts me from the fear that we’ve just been caught.
“They’re here?” I shout. I clutch my hands to my chest, and goose bumps erupt all over my body as I prepare myself for what she’s about to pull out of the bag.
My prototypes are in that bag. All my designs brought to life.
I did the patterns and some of the simpler pieces on my own, but we outsourced the bulk of the line assembly to the costume designer Elizabeth uses for the club.
Footsteps stomp on the floor as Phoenix ambushes the office behind Elizabeth. “Open it!” she shrieks.
“I am!” Elizabeth barks in return.
I’m practically bouncing on my feet as she hangs the bag from the back of the door and unzips it. Matis sits silently at the other side of the room as the three of us focus on the dresses currently hiding in that bag.
But I feel him watching me. His expression in the corner of my eye is pleased and proud.
When Elizabeth pulls out the first dress, tears sting my eyes and my nostrils flare with the urge to cry.
I’ve sewed my own dresses before. Albeit not well, but I have created pieces before on my own. But this feels different.
They look so…real. My creations come to life. Someone will actually wear these and show them off, and people will come to see what I’ve made. It doesn’t seem possible.
“Oh, Amelia,” Phoenix gasps as she reaches out to run her fingers over the delicate fabric. “It’s beautiful.”
“Literally fucking perfect,” Elizabeth adds in her cool, flat tone.
“Thank you, guys,” I reply with tears in my eyes.
Beside me, I feel Matis approaching, and when I glance back at him, I realize that if we could truly be together, I would hold his hand or kiss him or let him embrace me in this moment. But we can’t.
“Magnifique,” he mumbles under his breath.
“Thank you.”
We pull every dress out of the bag, and I look at each one, amazed at how the seamstress really did bring the entire collection to life. I try my hardest not to critique each one or find flaws in the design.
It’s not easy, but I don’t want to ruin this moment.
“Thank you for bringing them,” I say to Elizabeth after we’ve gone through each one.
“Are you kidding? This show is going to be fucking incredible.”
“All right, you get back to work on your brilliant designs,” Phoenix says, doing a little back and forth with her eyes between me and Matis.
With that, she and Elizabeth leave, closing the door behind them. The moment they’re gone, I turn toward Matis.
“I’m so proud of you, mon trésor.”
Rushing into his arms, I let him engulf me in a tight hug. “Thank you.”
He touches my chin and tilts my face up to see his. Then he places a warm, slow kiss on my lips. It’s been nearly five weeks of this now, having sex and being intimate in private, and it feels like heaven.
But heaven has an expiration date.
He doesn’t want to talk about London, so I’ve stopped pestering him about it, but I’m carrying this guilt instead. Now it’s like we’re just waiting to have the rug pulled out from under us. We have to either come out as a couple or wait until we’re found out.
I know in some ways he wants to come forward and get it over with, but at the same time, our future is so uncertain that it seems like such a big risk for something we’ve yet to truly define.
I love Matis, but then again…I’ve always loved him. There wasn’t a zenith moment in which I realized my heart belonged to him. He’s always had it in one way or another.
I want a future with him. I see no other path in my life.
But what about what he wants? Because I see how restless he’s feeling. I can’t be the only thing that gives him purpose and gratitude. He needs something, and I fear that something is in London.
And he’s avoiding it for me.
Matis as a boyfriend, if that’s even what I can call him, is far better than the Matis in my fantasy. In reality, he is genuine and attentive. He boosts my confidence and inspires me to be my best. He’s a generous lover and a passionate partner.
It’s a miracle he’s stayed single this long, but I won’t lie…I’m glad he did.
Because he’s all mine.
Running my hands down his chest, I smile up at him. “What do you say we go downstairs and celebrate? It’s masquerade night.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Giving a cheeky smile, I shrug my shoulders. “Let me watch you flirt with someone only to come to a room with me.”
He chuckles at my response. “That is maniacal.”
“I know,” I reply before kissing him again.
He shakes his head before reaching down and lifting me up to deposit me on the table. Positioning himself between my legs, he grinds himself against me while devouring my mouth.
“How about I take you back to my apartment and spank you for your naughty mouth?”
My core lights up with arousal. “Later.” Then I grab his hand and drag him toward the hall. “Let’s go have some fun first.”
When we reach the lower level of the club, we each grab a mask from the bowl. As Matis slips his on, I smile up at him. The crowd is dense tonight, giving me even more reason to stay close to his side.
Even if people could recognize us in these masks, no one can see us through this throng anyway. With pride, I slip my fingers between his, and he grins down at me.
It feels incredible to be in public like this.
I barely register the things that once made me feel overstimulated and erratic.
His presence has nothing on the noise or crowd.
My heart soars as we make our way toward the dance floor.
It’s packed, spilling over with moving, writhing bodies off the designated dance floor and into the seating area.
I press my chest against Matis’s, and he lets his hands slide down my body. With a hum of delight, I let my head hang back. His lips work their way up the column of my throat while his fingers explore the backs of my thighs, moving upward until he reaches my center.
Then he’s toying with me over my underwear, and I squirm against him, our bodies moving to the rhythm of the music.
He’s touching me in public, and it’s the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever felt.
“Focus on my fingers,” he mumbles into my ear.
Just like the night I watched alone, I let the physical touch of his fingers and the effect it has on my core drown out the noise and music and people around me. It’s just us.
He gently tugs my underwear to the side and slips a finger inside me. I cry out, a raspy gasp and moan against his ear.
“My girl is always so wet for me,” he mumbles as his finger slides in and out. “I want to fuck you on this dance floor, Trouble.”
Exhilaration sparks up my spine like lightning as I pull back and stare into his eyes. I suddenly remember the conversation we had and how much trust I put into Matis. How he encouraged me to step out from behind the curtain and join in instead of just watching. I’ll get there. I know it.
After I stare at him dumbly for a moment, he smiles. “Would you like that?”
I can only nod, gaping at him with arousal flooding my veins.
Pulling his hand from my panties, he gathers me up in his arms and squeezes me in a tight hug. “What did I do to deserve you?”
The song changes, and Matis and I start to focus more on dancing than sex and groping. Before long, we’re swallowed up by the horde of bodies.
It’s really a free-for-all out here, and when a man sidles up behind me, dancing against my ass, I look up to find Matis dancing with a woman in front of him.
He’s focused on her, looking at her mask-covered face and then down her body. His hands are currently held inches from her as if he’s afraid to touch her, and I smile at the sentiment.
The old Matis would have asked her point-blank to have sex with him. The old Matis would have probably started fucking her right here on the dance floor without ever needing to know her name or hearing her voice other than to get her consent.
“Is that your man?” the stranger behind me says in my ear.
Matis’s eyes find mine, and we stare at each other through the pink and purple strobe lights.
Feeling the stranger’s hands slowly working up my rib cage, I hold Matis’s gaze as I nod. “Yes.”
“Are you two down to play?”
My mouth goes dry as his hands land on my hips, pressing me against him. His body is foreign to me and definitely not what I want.
As we continue to dance, I don’t answer him. I just watch this woman admire Matis, letting her hands roam the landscape of his chest. She wants him, but then again…who wouldn’t?
And his eyes…they don’t leave me for a second.
Still, even as he refuses to touch the woman currently rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat, his focus is on me. And it fills me with heat and desire and need.
Not just a delicate arousal but something more visceral and urgent.
He is mine.
Turning toward the man behind me, I shake my head to his question. Then I leave him to move toward Matis. The woman against him looks at me, and even behind the mask, I see a hint of fear in her eyes as I glare at her.
“Mine,” I practically growl at her.
She moves away from him, putting her hands up in surrender. She disappears into the crowd, and I feel adrenaline and possessiveness course through my bloodstream as I take her place.
Turning back toward Matis, I notice the wicked grin on his face. Without hesitation, I jump into his arms, and he kisses me with that wide smile.
“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says before kissing me deeper.