17) admirer

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Warm sunlight filtered into the room as I laid watching Matty sleep, keeping my hands underneath my head to refrain from touching him.

I wanted to gently run my fingers over his lips, along the bridge of his nose, along his lashes and across his closed eyelids, finally threading them through his messy curls.

Obviously I wasn't going to, hence the reason I was keeping my hands secured beneath my head. Instead, I continued to lay there simply watching him, as though that were any more normal.

"You know, you really do have a staring problem," Matty suddenly mumbled, one of his eyes opening slightly to look at me.

"I wasn't staring."

"Alright," he laughed, before turning over in the bed, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

"I was admiring you," I admitted, immediately regretting my decision to let the words pass my lips.

I must've been tired, because why the fuck did I just say that?

"Admiring me?" His voice was practically dripping with smugness as he sat up, looking down at me.

"I didn't mean to say that," I countered, turning and pressing my face into the pillows. "Fucking hell."

He didn't offer me an immediate response, but it wasn't long until I felt fingertips climbing up my back, followed by his breath on the back of my neck.

"You were admiring me." He teased, gently pushing my hair to the side so that his lips could find the space behind my ear. "I'm flattered."

"I wasn't." I whined, as though there were any way that I could take my admission back. "I wasn't."

He continued to drag his lips along my skin, eventually finding my shoulder, and by then I had no choice but to turn around in the hope that his lips would then find my own.

And they did.

But this kiss wasn't like our usual ones. It wasn't forceful, or even desperate. It was gentle. Tender.

His mouth moved against mine in such a way that it felt like they were made for each other. This particular kiss radiated warmth. And suddenly, I had the urge to touch him again.

Without even really thinking about it, I skated my fingers along the side of his face, pushing them into his hair.

And his hands travelled down my body, his fingers lingering on my hips, pulling at my shorts.

"You were admiring me," he finally spoke against my mouth, his lips twisting into a grin. "I love that."

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