Sarah
I slowly stroke Matthew’s hair as he buries his face between my breasts.
He is acting like a little boy, I think to myself, smiling softly. Probably because he is drunk. God...how much did he have to drink?
I can feel his possessiveness in the way his fingers dig into my waist, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to claim.
"I’m not going anywhere," I whisper, though I’m not sure if I’m saying it to reassure him or myself.
His hands slide up my back, pulling closer against him. "Good," he mumbles against my skin. "Because I won’t let you."
"Matthew," I say softly, lifting his face so I can see his eyes. They’re glassy from the alcohol, but there’s sothing else there too. Sothing vulnerable. "You will have to let go so I can get dressed."
He groans like a petulant child, resting his forehead between my breasts again. "Just a minute," he mutters, wrapping his arms tighter around my waist. "Just... let stay like this for a minute."
I sigh, but my fingers instinctively return to his hair, threading through the soft strands. He leans into the touch like a man starved of affection, and for a mont, I let him have it. I let him hold . And he lets hold him.
His breathing slows a little, evening out against my skin, and for a split second, I wonder if he’s about to fall asleep like this, wrapped around , clinging.
"Matthew," I whisper.
"Hmm?"
"Marishka will be done with dinner soon. Aren’t you hungry? You need to wake up," I reply.
"Let’s lie down for a bit. I need to lie down," he says gruffly.
I hesitate, still cradling his head against my chest. He is never this gentle with and I am not sure I want to give this up so soon.
"Just for a little while," I whisper.
He nods, almost boyishly, and releases his hold on my waist only long enough to take my hand and tug gently toward the bed.
The sheets are cool against my skin as we lie down, and he pulls close again, his head nestled beneath my chin, one arm flung possessively over my waist.
"You sll like lavender," he murmurs, voice muffled against my collarbone. "And soap."
I giggle softly. "Mhm. I used lavender scented bodywash, that’s why."
"Mmm...I like it a lot," he hums.
His lips brush softly against my collarbone, barely there, almost as if he isn’t aware he’s doing it. The sensation sends a warm flutter through my chest. I press my hand against his back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
"You’re warm," I murmur, feeling sleepy myself. "I like it when you’re warm. Makes feel... safe."
His fingers lightly trace small circles on my back, slow and lazy.
"Why in the world do you put up with all my...um...treatnt of you?" he suddenly asks.
I pull him in tighter, resting my cheek against the top of his head. "I told you. It’s because I love you."
"But why, Sarah? Is it because of my looks? If you had waited a bit longer, you could’ve found soone much more handso than , you know," Matthew asks.
"Matthew," I say softly, brushing my fingers along his cheek. "I didn’t fall in love with your face."
"Then why?"
I let out another giggle. "I told you why before."
"Tell again."
"You were just...different from other guys I t in the past," I said. "You weren’t arrogant. You didn’t have that need to flaunt your skills, even though you were brilliant at your job. And you didn’t flirt with just because I was the Boss’s daughter. You were kind, genuinely kind."
Matthew’s eyes t mine with a steady intensity. "I am not kind to you now," he reminds , his voice harsh.
I draw in a slow, shaky breath. "That’s because I ruined things between us."
His grip on my body tightens slightly, a silent acknowledgnt of the truth. "Yes. You did," he says, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
"I know I did," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. "I’ve apologized a thousand tis, Matthew. I don’t know what else to say that’ll make it better."
"Nothing. Which is why I promised myself I would make you pay. I will make you feel trapped just like how you made feel," he says and chuckles sleepily.
My lips curl up. "And if I like being trapped by you?"
"You’re not supposed to like it," he says. "You’re supposed to beg to stop."
I let out a soft laugh, curling my fingers into his hair again. "Well, I’m afraid your plan is flawed because I don’t want to escape. Not from you."
He exhales against my collarbone, the sound sowhere between a sigh and a low hum of contentnt.
"Matthew?" I ask after he hasn’t said anything else for a while.
He stirs in response but still doesn’t say anything.
Oh...he fell asleep.
I smile faintly, brushing a soft kiss against the top of his head.
His face is completely relaxed now, peaceful in a way I rarely get to see. The usual tension in his brows has lted away, and his breathing is slow, deep, and steady. One arm is still wrapped tightly around my waist, as though even in sleep, he doesn’t want to let go.
I could move. I probably should move. Marishka would be calling for dinner soon. But I can’t bring myself to shift even an inch.
Instead, I rest my cheek against his hair and close my eyes.
For now, this mont is mine and I don’t want to miss it. Not even for a second.
This man who is so full of anger and hurt and love he doesn’t know what to do with is here in my arms. Vulnerable. Human. Mine.
This feels right.
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