Page 38 of Spark
“I’ll buy you one.”
He laughs, but I’m not joking. The more I know Mateo, the more I want to do what I can to make his life comfortable. I want to stand next to him and help shoulder some of his responsibilities. He opens his arms, and I follow him into bed, pulling the sheet over us. Head on my chest, his fingers trace a lazy pattern along my abdomen. Soon, his breathing evens out. When the tracing ceases, I think he’s drifted to sleep. Relishing the feel of him in my home and my bed, I close my eyes, knowing he’ll be here when I wake in the morning.
Just as I’m in that place between sleep and consciousness, his raspy voice rumbles, “You want to tell me about the gargantuan dildo in the nightstand?”
My face flames even though I know there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I stroke the back of his arm. “What do you want to know?”
He looks up at me, all heat and humor. “Is it for solo use only, or can a friend play too?”
I twist him onto his back, straddling him, arms pinned above his head. “What does this friend have in mind?”
“Watching, using… on you, on me…” He thrusts his hips and grins. “Whatever.”
“What about sleep?” I grind into him.
He grinds back. “Sleep is overrated.”
Leaning in, I capture his lips, ending with a nip that makes him groan. “Then let’s play.”
Chapter Ten
Mateo
Awarmsunbeamonmy face rouses me from sleep. Sighing, I turn my head and body away from the light. The softest sheets atop the softest mattress wrap me in a cocoon of comfort. I blink my eyes open. The spot beside me, where Finlay had slept, is empty.
I stretch my arms and legs and regard my surroundings. Things had been too intense between Finlay and me last night to notice anything except his perfect body. The room is decorated in shades of navy blue and cream. The dresser and closet with deep chocolate tones and straight grain patterns are probably black walnut. The floor, from what I can see under the large blue and white area rug, looks like oak. There aren’t any photos or pictures on the dresser or the walls. The space is beautiful yet impersonal, like a hotel room.
I glance at the tiny alarm clock on the bedside table. Ten-thirty. I wish I knew how long Finlay has been awake. As much as I needed to sleep in, I regret missing out on time with him. I’ll have to leave in a little while for my rugby game. The team rotates the players in charge of field prep so that we’re each doing two matches a month. Arriving at the field two hours prior to warm-ups is really hard on me during my weeks. That extra bit of missed sleep really adds up. I’m so happy I wasn’t on the schedule for that chore today.
The scent of coffee and bacon reaches me. My stomach growls, taunting me with the memory of the protein bars I’d consumed on the way to the show. I push off the sheet and blanket. My clothes are folded and waiting on the armchair by the window. The bag holding my change of clothes is beside them. The fact that Finlay retrieved it from my truck warms me.
I grab my boxers and overnight kit and head for the bathroom. My skin is sticky with remnants of come and lube from the sexy post-sex session when Finlay used the huge dildo on me. It felt fantastic. The way he watched me, the way he sped up and then backed off each time I reached the edge of my control, the way he stroked and kissed me when he finally let me fall into the orgasm… So good. And after I discovered the box under his bed that holds the rest of his toy collection, we stayed up until close to two AM playing and exploring. The way his face contorted in pleasure and how hard he came from the vibrating prostate massager, I can’t wait to use it on him again. Or, to let him use it on me.
I do my business, quickly brush my teeth, and debate taking a shower. I’ll need to take one before I leave, but if Finlay hasn’t had one yet, I’d prefer to share one with him. With that thought in mind, I return to the bedroom.
Footsteps in the hallway precede Finlay’s entrance. Clad in snug black boxers, hair still mussed from sleep, he comes in carrying an overloaded tray. Hazel eyes brimming with his smile, his gaze traces over me from head to toe and back again. "Breakfast in bed."
There are mugs of coffee, tiny glasses of orange juice, a small bowl of strawberries, and plates with toast and what looks like some type of omelet. "Let me help you with the tray."
He shakes his head. "I have it. Get in bed."
The soft command in his voice could get me to do anything. "Yes, sir."
I slip under the sheet and prop the pillows behind my back. He settles the tray beside me and the extended legs keep it elevated to a comfortable height. I can picture Finlay using it with his laptop when he’s working from home. Or maybe he bought it solely to make indulgent weekend breakfasts for himself to enjoy in bed.
Once he’s beside me, I tilt my face toward his and take a kiss, lingering over his soft lips. "This looks amazing."
"So do you in my bed." He trails his fingers down my cheek. My breath catches at the wonder and care in his words and expression and the gentleness in his touch.
This moment feels big, significant. It’s more than sex, more than lust or infatuation. I’m truly falling for this man and the depth of my feelings is scary and exhilarating. "I know I’ll say the same when I have you in mine."
Only, compared to his bedroom, mine looks like the awfulbeforepictures in those renovation shows. I need to find time to put in some hours working on my house. I want him to be fully comfortable there.
He adds creamer to the coffees and passes one to me. The spherical curve to the large matte blue mug is warm and comfortable in my hand. And the coffee is dark, rich, and amazing. "What’s in the omelet?"
"Eggs, obviously." Chuckling, he bumps my shoulder. "And gruyère cheese, pieces of bacon, spinach leaves, and a bit of Dijon mustard."
"Sounds like you went to a lot of effort for me." I scoop up a forkful of the omelet, but pause before eating the bite. The tips of Finlay’s ears have turned pink, like he’s embarrassed.
