Maybe Matt's Miracle(45)

“She didn’t abandon me,” I start.

“They both did, Sky,” he says softly. “Just as surely as our dad did, your parents did. Just because they have a bunch of money and paid people to do what they should have been doing all along doesn’t make them any better.”

“Can we talk about something else?” I ask. My head is starting to hurt, and I stretch my neck again.

Matt reaches over and starts to knead my shoulder. “I’ll take care of that for you when we get to the apartment,” he says quietly.

“What?” I ask, turning my head to look at him.

“That headache,” he says.

How did he know I have a headache? “It’s nothing,” I say.

We pull up at my apartment and park on the side of the street. Matt takes my hand as we walk inside. When the elevator doors close, he pulls me against his front, and I can feel the length of him pressed against my bottom. Goodness. He’s ready for whatever we’re about to do.

We walk through the door, and I throw my keys onto the kitchen table.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asks. His words whip around the room like lightning, striking me harder than he probably intended.

“I…” I can’t verbalize it. I can’t tell him.

“You what?” he asks. He walks slowly toward me and cups the side of my neck with his hand. He’s gentle and tender, and yet I can feel how much he wants me. I might even be able to feel how much he loves me, even though I’m not sure what that is yet. Is it real? I don’t know enough about it to be sure. “Why did you bring me here?”

I dip my head and push my forehead against his chest. I breathe in the scent of him and hold it deep inside me. I don’t want to exhale and let it go. It’s woodsy and manly and clean, and it’s all Matt. “I feel like I have been emotionally assaulted, Matt,” I say quietly. “And when it was all over, I needed someone who could make me feel safe.” I look up at him, and his blue eyes don’t even blink. “I needed someone who cares for me.”

Matt scoops me up in his arms, one arm beneath my knees and the other behind my back. I squeal in surprise. He laughs and carries me into my bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind us. “How long do we have before you have to pick up the girls?” he asks. He sits down on the side of my bed and takes off his boots. He’s moving quickly, and he grins.

I kick my sneakers off and pull my shirt over my head. “Hours,” I say. I unbutton my jeans and push them down my legs, stepping out and kicking them to the side. Matt licks his lips. He tugs my arm when I reach behind my back to unfasten my bra. “Slow down just a little,” he says. “I’m not going to rush the first time I get to love you.”

My heart trips a beat. “Okay,” I say quietly. I sit down on the side of the bed and cross my arms over my chest. I’m feeling a little self-conscious, particularly since I’m not wearing sexy undies. I’m wearing everyday panties and my ratty, old comfy bra.

Matt taps my chin with a crooked finger, and I look up at him. “Stop thinking,” he says. He stands up and unfastens his belt, then pulls the belt from the buckle. He shoves his jeans down over his hips, and I can’t jerk my eyes away when I see that his boxers are tented by his… God, he’s huge. “Stop thinking about that, too,” he says over a laugh.

“Lie down on your stomach,” he says. He walks into my bathroom and comes back with a bottle of lotion. I crawl across the bed and lay my head on my pillow, my arms crossed beneath it. I watch him as he walks slowly toward me. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he says quietly. He sits down beside me and squirts some lotion into his hands, then rubs them together briskly to warm it up.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Taking care of you,” he says. His hip touches mine, and then his warm, slick hands land on my naked shoulders. He applies pressure with his slippery fingertips, and it feels so damn good that a moan leaves my throat. “This okay?” he asks.

I moan again and nod my head, jamming my face into my pillow. “Please don’t stop.” I say.

He chuckles. “I won’t.” He does lift his hands for a minute, though, so that he can climb up to straddle my bottom. He doesn’t put any of his weight on me, but I can feel him, heavy and hard on top of my lower back. “Can I undo this?” he asks quietly, his voice suddenly rough and abraded when he pulls gently on my bra fastening.

“Yes,” I squeak into my pillow.

“What?” he asks with a laugh.

I turn my face and say quietly, “Yes, please.” Then I bury my face in the pillow again so he won’t see how flushed my skin is.

He unclasps my bra and pulls it out of his way, and then his thumbs begin to do miraculous things up and down my spine. I sink into the mattress after a few minutes, going almost limp as he attacks my muscles one by one, moving from my neck to my shoulder to my back and down to my bottom. He stops when he reaches the elastic of my panties.

“Don’t stop,” I whimper.

“Tell me what happened with your mother,” he says when he has me sated and happy.

“I don’t want to,” I mutter.

He lifts his hands from my body. “I’ll stop now, then,” he says. Then he waits.

I heave in a breath. “Please don’t stop,” I beg. I have never had anyone take such great care with me. I’ve never had anyone who wasn’t paid to give me a massage try to do so. I have ever felt such…affection? I don’t even know what it is, but I do know it’s foreign.