Listen, Obey

35. Thirty-Fifth Lesson

I fell asleep on the couch. It wasn't meant to happen, but it was a comfy couch and I was dead tired after spending a day actually doing something. In fact, I was sleeping heavily enough not to notice when the front door opened and closed. Something like that would never have happened before meeting Matthews. The regular version of me was constantly on high-alert. This was an oddity—an oddity I didn't realize until Matthews shook my shoulder.

"Ethan, let's get you into a bed instead."

I mumbled something in reply that even I couldn't make sense of.

"Come on." Matthews scooped me up from the couch as if I was a child. Admittedly, I wasn't a big guy, but he shouldn't have been able to carry me around like that. It wasn't normal.

"I can walk," I mumbled, this time a bit more coherent.

He didn't reply, but he let me down and helped me find my balance.

"Told you not to wait up."

"I wasn't."

Matthews breathed out something that might have been half a chuckle. It was a tired sound.

"What time is it?"

"Four-thirty."

"You should be asleep," I reasoned.

"That's why we're getting to bed."

At that point I was lucid enough to understand that he meant his bed, or at least that we would sleep together. I didn't mind. Not one bit. I had a plan to put into action, and sleeping together was definitely included in that.

Matthews tried to ask me a few questions about Tilia and our day as he walked me through the house, but I was far too preoccupied with ideas of how to seduce this man to find any answers. Words slipped off my tongue, but I had no clue what I was saying.

"You sang?"

Had I told him that? No. No. Just no. Too embarrassing.

"Never tell a soul," I ordered.

Matthews' hand squeezed mine as we climbed the last step of the stairs. "Maybe I will, maybe I won't."

He was teasing me. The bastard!

Matthews let out another soft chuckle. "Don't pout, Ethan. I won't tell anyone if you're embarrassed."

The comment only made it worse. My cheeks flared with heat and the floor suddenly became very interesting.

Matthews pulled me into his bedroom, let go of my hand and swiftly got out of his shirt, showing off more skin than I could handle without gulping at the sight. That's not how it should happen, I thought. I wanted to help him with that. Stripping off his clothes was also on the list of things to do. However, before I could voice any sort of objection, he stepped in front of me and grasped the fabric of my sweater. His eyes find mine for confirmation, then with a quick tug, he got it off and let it fall to the floor.

I could hardly breathe. "We-We're going to fast." The objection sounded feeble at best, and I wasn't even sure why I objected in the first place. Perhaps it was because the logical part of my brain reminded me that I didn't trust him yet. He had spent the night at his club, and that meant that anything could have happened. He wasn't mine. He was a free man—free to do anything he wanted.

"Don't worry. We're going to sleep, nothing more."

"Okay." And fuck if I didn't sound dejected. Matthews arched an eyebrow, but when I didn't say anything else, he steered me to the bed.

"Is it okay if I sleep only in my boxers?" he asked. I nodded. Of course that was okay. Or at least I thought so until his pants dropped to the floor, pooling around his ankles. To prevent myself from doing anything stupid, I turned around and got out of mine before making my way to the right side of the bed. I couldn't look at him, not even for a second.