My eyes fly up to his and for a split second, time stands still as we stare at one another, my chest expanding, my heart filling at his words. “Thank you,” I manage to squeak out, breaking our connection to drink more wine.
There’s a deafening silence that follows our moment, because I do feel like we had one, although I have no idea what it means. Matt stands to clear the table and I help him bring the dishes to the sink, grabbing a towel from a nearby rack.
“What are you doing?” he asks, finally crashing through the quiet.
“I’m going to help you wash and load the dishes.” I reach over him to turn on the water and he shuts it off.
“Sit down and relax. This is just going to take a sec,” he says, scrubbing food off of one of the plates into a nearby garbage can.
“I want to help.”
“Fran.” He turns around with the sink sprayer aimed at me and my mouth gapes open.
“You wouldn’t dare!” I shout, my pulse racing, my flight instinct kicking in.
“Did you just dare me, Fran? Because I think you did,” he taunts, resting his finger on the handle with a wicked gleam in his eye.
I freeze with my hands on my hips, green eyes blazing into his, until he lets me have it, spraying water all over my tank top. “I can’t believe you just did that!” I shriek, while he just stands there with a smug grin on his face. “Gah!” I raise my hands in the air. “That’s it!”
I stomp off down the first hallway I see, not knowing where the heck I’m going, while Matt’s laughter rings out behind me.
“Where are you going?” he asks, barely able to speak through his howling.
There are various rooms on each side of the hall and I keep opening doors until I find what I’m looking for—the bathroom. I march in there, determination fueling me, and dig around for something that can hold water. The bathroom is huge with both a shower and a Jacuzzi-tub, and there’s a picturesque window with a spectacular view of LA. There are a multitude of drawers near the double sink and when I pull one open, I notice Matt wasn’t kidding. Every single item in there is alphabetized, from the razors, to the soap, to the deodorant. Another cabinet stands next to it and I’m able to find a small bucket filled with cleaning supplies that I immediately dump out and rinse thoroughly. That’ll do. I fill it with water, armed and ready for battle, when I catch a glimpse of my t-shirt in the mirror, mortified that my nipples are also poised and ready. There’s a towel on the rack so I loop it around my neck, hoping to hide my obvious excitement.
When I come back out, Matt is standing in the same spot and hasn’t dropped the sprayer.
“Whatcha got there, Fran?” he asks, his eyes wandering and landing first on the bucket and then on my nipples, and I lower the towel to cover them.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He pauses for a second to cough and that’s when I make my move, adrenaline coursing through my system as I throw the entire bucket of water on his shirt, but I miss and some ends up on his face and in his hair. I have to say, the wet look definitely suits him. He points at me again, his blue eyes alight with fire, and I take off running. I hear his footsteps following close, but continue down the hall until he catches up and grabs me around my waist, hauling me off the ground.
“Matt!” I laugh, breathing heavy and barely able to speak. “Let me go!”
“Make me.”
I try to free my arms but his grip is too strong. Eventually, he releases me slowly, my back sliding down his front, feeling the planes of his muscles and his apparent erection, making my nipples even more pronounced. I cross my arms over my chest to hide my arousal and glance back at him over my shoulder. “So, what now? We’re kind of wet.”
“I like you wet,” he says, his brows rising under a fringe of hair, a smirk pulling up the corner of his lips. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “Let me get you a t-shirt.”
He walks down the hall, stripping off his shirt on the way, and I nearly melt into a puddle of lust. I can’t stop staring. Those jeans hang low on his hips exposing a slim waist, and the muscles of his back ripple as he moves. The edge of his boxer briefs are visible and my mind starts drifting to what’s underneath them when he emerges from a room at the far end of the hall, still shirtless. Holy crap. Broad shoulders and full pecs lead down to that V shape near his abdomen. My eyes linger on the tiny dusting of hair just below his belly button and desire threatens my ability to continue to stand or even form a coherent thought.
He finally covers his chest with a shirt, thank God, before tossing one to me. I head off to the bathroom to change, immediately locking the door and falling back against it. My heart rate is skyrocketing while my body is on fire. A minute later, when I can finally move without keeling over, I walk to the sink and catch my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are bright, my cheeks a soft shade of pink, my hair a wild mess. I can’t help the smile spreading across my face.
I breathe in the scent of his shirt, clean and masculine mixed with detergent that sends a frisson of excitement coursing through me. With a quick tug, I pull off my tank and slide his shirt over my head before taking a deep breath. I come back out to find Matt reclining against the wall, staring in my direction.
“My shirt looks good on you,” he says, his eyes roving, his voice a deep timbre. He pushes off the wall and strolls back out to the living room.
“Thanks, and thanks for the lend.” My cell phone chirps in the distance and I get to it on the fourth ring to find Peyton on the other end. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Hey,” she answers, her voice low. She doesn’t sound like herself and it makes me nervous.
“What’s going on? You sound weird.”
“Where are you?” she asks, sniffling and blowing her nose into the phone.
“I’m at Matt’s. Are you okay?”
“I’ve been better. When you come back will you swing by my room?” she asks quietly, and now I’m concerned.
“Absolutely. We’ll head out now, okay?” I glance over at Matt, who sees the look on my face and grabs his keys.
“Thanks, Fran. See you soon,” she says before hanging up, and I hear relief in her voice.
“What’s going on?” Matt questions as soon as I click the phone off.
“I don’t know. Peyton sounds really upset so we should definitely get back.” I follow him down the stairs and out through the basement.
The drive back to the hotel is quiet, but my head is anything but…flipping back and forth between Peyton and my day with Matt. Every now and then I chance a glimpse at him, one strong hand clutching the wheel, the other resting lightly on the gear shift. There’s a part of me that wants to go to him, curl up next to the warmth of his chest and feel him, breathe him in, but I can’t.
It’s about six when we finally arrive back at the hotel and I’m completely exhausted. After I check on Peyton, I’m definitely calling it a night. Matt walks me to the door and for some reason my stomach is a jumble, twisting with nerves.
“Thanks for the adventure today. You’re pretty decent company.” I lean back, bringing a knee up, my foot resting against the door.
“Decent company, huh?” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.
“So…I think I’ll take the stairs in the morning,” I say with a hint of laughter, “wouldn’t want to get stuck on the elevator again.”
Matt digs a fist in his pocket as he glances down at the carpet. “Oh, I don’t know, it wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No,” I reply, smiling, “it wasn’t bad at all.” On my last word, Matt’s eyes climb to mine and he inches closer. I falter at his sudden proximity.
I watch his hand heading toward my face and my breathing picks up as he smoothes a finger over the arch of my brow, the angle of my cheek, and finally my bottom lip, sending my pulse racing and my stomach into an unfamiliar dance. I realize in this moment that I want him to kiss me…but not because I’m trying to forget, simply because I want to remember.