Page 136 of Pucking Matt
“So,” I whisper. “You want to know if I want you?”
He’s only peering down at me, no tell-all expression or answer on his face. He grabs my waist first and then finds my lower back, pulling me in.
“First,” I say, inhaling, nervous as hell. “I need to know how far this goes.”
“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do,” he reassures me.
I smile. “That’s sweet, Matt, but I’m not talking about sex.”
His eyes search mine. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I ask.
He nods. “I want two kids. I want a big wedding, a big house. I’ll be in the NHL for most of my career.” He licks his lips. “Iwant to be in love with my wife, date her, take vacations. Have her full support. Have fun together.”
As I’m listening, I envision that life. My stomach is twisting at the idea of it all. Can I see myself spending forever with Matthew Pearson?
He continues, “And I would like that someone to be able to take a joke, have a good sense of humor, keep me on my toes…” His fingertips graze the top of my shoulder. “Challenge me. Someone who won’t give up when times get hard.”
I divert my eyes to take a moment to process what he’s saying.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“What do I think?” I mutter aloud. I’m not thinking about anything other than that lucky bitch.
“I’m happy you know what you want,” I say, meeting his eyes.
“Do you know what you want?” he asks.
I look at the gash on his face. It’s finally not bleeding. He probably doesn’t need stitches since I cleaned it up before lunch. If all that chewing didn’t tear it again, he’s probably on the healing side of things.
“Yeah, no. I mean…not exactly. I just want to be happy. I don’t want someone who’ll give up on me when I get hard.”
“Yeah, I hear you’re quite the handful.”
I joke, “All that and a bag of cookies.”
He chuckles, brushing my hair out of my face.
“Do you think you can handle me?” I ask.
He grins as I look up at him. “I don’t know if you can handle me,” he answers.
“What…all four inches of you?” I joke, smiling.
He shakes his head as his laugh fills the silence. “Wow.”
For once, Matthew Pearson is blushing and speechless. He glances up at the ceiling, probably wondering why he would jokeabout his size like that. He’s too tall to have a small dick, just saying.
“Yeah,” I wink. “I know I’m fun. What can I say?”
I press my hand against his chest as he breaks into a bigger smile.
He says, “I know what I can’t handle.” He grabs my hand on his chest. I swear I feel his heart racing. “Knowing that you’ll be joking like that with someone else.”
I watch him for any insincerity. He’s clean.
“Yeah?” I ask, flattered.
