Page 21 of Gift of You
His erection.
Good god, he was hard for me. He’d said he was attracted to me. He’d said he wanted to kiss me. But the very real physical evidence of that desire was pressed against me, and fuck if I wasn’t humbled by it. I wasn’t sure why his awakening was happening now, but the fact that it was happening with me hadme feeling like I’d been given the most precious gift. I didn’t want to fuck it up.
With great reluctance, and willpower I didn’t know I possessed, I pulled back.
“What? What’s wrong?”
I smiled at the worry in his eyes, hoping to reassure him. “Absolutely nothing. But I need to know that you’re sure about this. Two days ago, you ran out of my apartment like your hair was on fire. You were afraid to sit next to me on the couch, afraid of what you were feeling and what it all meant. An hour ago you said you were still processing. Thirty minutes ago, you had me pressed against a bookshelf. And now... now you’re kissing me like you were born to do it. To be clear, I’m not unhappy with the way things have evolved, but my head’s spinning. And ifmyhead is spinning, I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling. So I guess I just want to make sure this is what you want. I don’t want this to be something you regret because your judgment was clouded by lust.”
He stepped back and scrubbed a hand down his face like he was frustrated. I hated that I was the cause of it, but I didn’t think I’d be able to live with myself if I didn’t pump the breaks and force him to be sure.
“Honestly, I don’t want to think about any of it anymore.”
My heart sank straight into my feet. But that was okay. Better he cut this off now before I was fully invested. My disappointment must have shown on my face because he rushed to say, “I don’t want to stop. That’s not what I’m saying.” He brushed his hand down my arm and took my hand in his in a gesture that was unbearably sweet. “I just mean that when I’m kissing you, I stop worrying about what it all means. About the what-ifs and hypotheticals. I stop thinking and just... feel.”
He released my hand and turned away to pace while he gathered his thoughts. For once, I managed to keep my mouthshut rather than rushing to fill the silence. At length, he turned back to face me. “When I kissed you downstairs, it was because I realized in that moment there wasn’t anything I wanted more. I needed to know what you tasted like, how your lips felt against mine. Suddenly everything else seemed unimportant.”
Oh wow. Oh shit. That was maybe the most romantic—and hottest—thing anyone had ever said to me. Jesus. Were thosetearsforming in my eyes? I blinked rapidly and adjusted my glasses, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“Those twenty minutes I was downstairs? My brain was spinning nonstop. I was actually going to send you home once I got up here. But then I walked through the door, and I saw you, and all I could think about was kissing you again. It felt like I might die if I never got the chance.”
At last, he closed the distance between us, not stopping until he was standing in front of me just a few inches away. He tipped my chin up, his blue eyes piercing mine. “There’s only one other person who ever made me feel that way—like my life wouldn’t have any meaning without knowing what she tasted like. She was the love of my life. And I’m not saying I’m in love with you, but there wasn’t a single moment since the day I met her that I regretted choosing to be with her. I don’t understand why this is happening now, why I never knew these things about myself before. But I think that if I don’t take the opportunity to explore this with you, I’ll regret it. Maybe for the rest of my life.”
I stopped breathing, unable to form words to respond. I’d been wrong a moment ago.Thiswas the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me. My whole life, I’d been told I was too much. Too loud. Too brash. Too direct. I was annoying. A pest. Like your kid brother who followed you around all the time and wouldn’t leave you alone. But this man was actually saying he wantedmoreof me? That it would be his biggest regret if hedidn’tpursue me.Me. I knew this was likely only about sex forhim—the man clearly still loved his wife—but still, it didn’t seem possible thatIwas the one he felt was worthy of exploration.
I swallowed hard, trying to figure out what came next. What was I supposed to say after such a declaration? I swallowed one more time, gathering myself. “I’m here for for the rest of the week. You have me until then.”
I thought his breath hitched, but I couldn’t be sure. He slowly brushed his thumb across my lower lip. “Is there anything off limits?”
“I’m not into any wild kinks, but anything can be up for discussion if there’s something you have in mind...” I raised an eyebrow in question, curious to know just how far he was willing to take this.
“Take this off.” He tugged at the hem of my sweater, and I moved to comply, quickly yanking it over my head and tossing it on the floor.
“What about you? Do I get to see you too?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Your chest is bare.” His eyes were locked on my torso, which I’d waxed about a week before.
“I keep things neat and tidy. I don’t have a particularly hairy chest in the first place, so it’s pretty easy to maintain.”
“Mine is basically the opposite. Is that going to bother you? Do guys like other guys to be smooth?” He’d gone from dominant to hesitant in the blink of an eye, and I rushed to reassure him.
“Some do,” I answered honestly. In fact, most of the guys I tended to sleep with were smooth like me. But I liked that Matthew was different. “Some prefer hairy guys. Some don’t care either way.”
“What do you prefer?”
I moved closer, gently pulling his hand up to rest on my chest. His palm was warm and the contrast to the cooler airin the apartment had goosebumps skittering along my skin. “I preferyou.”
Tentatively, I reached forward and began to slowly undo the buttons of his flannel. “Is this okay?” I asked, praying he said yes.
He nodded, and I continued working my way down his shirt, exposing a few inches at a time. When I got to his waistband, I tugged the tails up, unbuttoned the last button, and pushed the top of his shirt over his shoulders, exposing his torso completely. He hadn’t been wrong. A thick layer of salt-and-pepper hair lined his chest and trailed down the center of his abdomen.
“Can I touch you?” I asked, itching to run my fingers through all that hair.
He nodded, and I reached forward, sliding my fingertips through the thick patch of hair right above his sternum. He shivered at the contact. “This goes both ways, you know. You can explore my body. I told you, I’m yours for the rest of the week.”
We began to move our hands at the same time, his fingers trailing down my sternum as mine slid upward through the thick pelt of hair on his chest. Unable to resist myself, I added my other hand, slowly running both hands up his pecs, over his shoulders, and back down to where I’d started.
“I love the way you feel—” I cut off on a giggle, involuntarily stepping back as his hands traced my ribs with a feather-light touch. “Shit. I’m ticklish.”
