Page 60 of Fall Into You
“You’re not very verbose tonight,” I say softly, my heart beating wildly in my chest. He’s not acting like himself. Maybe hehascome to his senses. Maybe this whole fight was too much. “Are…are we okay?” I hold my breath.
He smiles a little and points to his jaw. “Hurts to talk,” he says simply, and I want to slap myself.Of courseit does. Of course it hurts to talk. My brother just delivered, not one, but two stunning right hooks not four hours ago.
“Sorry,” I say sadly. “I’ll only ask youyesornoquestions from now on. That way you can nod or shake your head and don’t need to speak.” His smile flashes, broad and warm, eyes shining with humor.
“Did you eat?” I ask. Matt chuckles and immediately winces. I slap his hand slightly in reprimand, but I know why he’s laughing. “I know we ate dinner already, but we finished at seven, and it’s”—I check the time on the cable box—“just after eleven pm.”
He shakes his head and pulls both my hands in his hand now, carefully readjusting the bandage wrapped around the injured one.
“I’ll make you some soup.” I stand, but he pulls me back by my good hand.
“Don’t have to,” he says, shaking his head. “Come back.” He frowns, tugging again. “Missed you,” he sighs. My heart squeezes in my chest, a knot catching in my throat. It’s ridiculous since we were only apart for a few hours, but I missed him, too.
“Shh, don’t talk.” I lean down and kiss his forehead, his skin soft and warm beneath my lips. “Let me take care of you the way you always take care of me.” I pause. “Let me love you.”
He inhales sharply, his eyes wide. “Liza…” My name on his lips sounds reverent.
“Shh,” I say again, kissing him lightly on the lips. “I know.” He kisses my hand once before releasing me so that I can make him some food that won’t hurt for him to chew.
I heat up a can of tomato soup and put it into a coffee mug, hoping to make it easier and quicker for him to drink. It’s gone in under five minutes, and I make fun of him for inhaling his food. He kisses my cheek and pulls me close into his side again, but I pull away. He looks at me in alarm, but I reach out and grab his hand to calm him down, reassuring him that I’m not going anywhere, not tonight, and not any night after that—at least for the foreseeable future.
“I just want to apologize. Tonight was my fault. If I had listened to you—if we had told him earlier—it would never have gotten violent. I think that us acting suspiciously plus the fact that he found me crying in your arms as you held my hand under the water was just not an overall good first impression.” He shakes his head, seeming to agree with my statement.
“Not all your fault,” he says, but I lift a hand to stop him. What part ofdon’t talkdoes he not understand?
“I can at least take seventy-five percent of the blame here,” I say. He frowns at me but doesn’t argue. Maybe because he finally realizes that it hurts too much to talk, or maybe it’s because he knows he won’t win this argument, or maybe it’s even because he agrees. Regardless, I’m sticking to how big a role I played in what happened tonight.
“I’m sorry about everything.” I look down at our intertwined hands before looking up into his eyes again. “This never would’ve happened if I had just listened to you, if I hadn’t been so freaking scared. Honestly, I think I made it an even bigger deal than it was. I’m starting to agree with Jeremy on some things about me, and I think me being a tad bit too dramatic is one of them.” My last statement seems to spark something in him, his dark-green eyes almost black.
“Not true.” He shakes his head. “Even if you are a bit dramatic, it’s one of the things I love about you. Plus, Jeremy was an asshole.” He winces, his hand flying to his jaw again.
“Stop talking!” I sigh, exasperated. “I’m getting you more ice.”
I walk over to the kitchen and pull an icepack from the freezer. I find a kitchen towel and wrap it around the pack to keep it from burning his skin. When I get back to the couch, his head is leaned back against the headrest, eyes staring up at the ceiling.
“Don’t want you to blame yourself,” he says without looking at me. “Takes two to tango.”
“Itoldyou to stop talking!” I say, sighing deeply. “I’m trying to take care of you here, and you’re being an awful patient.” Itsk. “I know doctors make the worst patients, butdamn.”
He looks into my eyes and grins, taking the icepack from my hands, placing it on the side of his face. “Can I say one more thing?” he asks, and I roll my eyes at him. He takes this as a yes. “I love you.” He smiles.
I try to control the goofy grin on my face, but really, what’s the point? Despite everything that’s happened today and every other crazy moment in our relationship, he loves me, and I love him. “I love you, too.” I kiss him on the lips. It starts off soft, slow, but it’s like wildfire between us. And I know he’s hurting, and I know he really shouldn’t be kissing me like this, but he does anyway. He parts his lips, slipping his tongue into my mouth with a groan, and I separate immediately, unsure whether that was a good sound or a bad one.
Matt’s eyes are hungry, pupils dilated, and he definitely wants more. He looks me slowly up and down, raising goosebumps on my skin, smirking.
“Nuh-uh. Nope.” I shake my head. “You’re hurt, mister, and I’m not gonna do anything to jeopardize your well-being.” I shake my finger at him. “I love you too much to hurt you just because you’re smoking hot, and I want you, too.”
He rolls his eyes at me and groans again, wincing in pain immediately after.
“See?” I point at him, completely exasperated. “You need a shower, anyway,” I tell him. “The hot water on your back will be really good for you, and then we can place an icepack on it after. Do a little thermal therapy.” I help pull him up off the couch with my good hand.
“You a doctor now?” he asks, amused, his eyes shining.
“No, but I know enough of them.” I smirk.
WE’REin Matt’s bathroom, where I help him undress himself while the water heats, pulling his sweater carefully over his head, unbuttoning his shirt while he does his pants. I gently push his shirt over his shoulders without meeting his gaze because I know what I’ll find there: the look in his eyes he gets right before he kisses me like I’m the only thing he needs to survive, like he needs me more than oxygen. I can hear it in his ragged breathing, in the way his chest is rising and falling faster and faster. I can practicallyfeelhis heart race, and I’m not even touching him.
“Stop,” I whisper, keeping my eyes on his bare chest—not really the best idea, considering how lean and defined Matt’s chest is with his sprinkle of dark hair. I’m so close I can see every single freckle on his skin, even in the dim light. Just like that first night, I want to lick him.
