Hidden

Chapter Eight

I welcome the passion, entangling my fingers into the strands of his fine hair. His hands, large and strong, descend over my back and extend pressure as he begins to lead me back towards his apartment.

He pulls back from me momentarily, reaching down for the food and champagne and opens the door, letting me in first. Breathing harshly, I turn when I hear the door close. Holding the items, he saunters towards me in the dark foyer.

I feel my backside bump into his table as he comes dangerously close, staring down at me. He smells like body wash- I'm unable to locate the exact scent but it's delicious.

"Are you sure about this?" I whisper, needing to say it. He's already sure of my feelings, what I want but I don't know his. I don't know if he's about to fuck me and tell me to go.

Oh god, am I psyching myself out of this?

He presses his lips to mine, nodding. "Yes."

No, no, I am not. I have never wanted anything more than I do right in this moment. I'm breathless as his lips hover above mine and I hear the items in his hand settling down behind me on the table.

"Are you?"                         

I nod as his lips crush to my own, his arms pulling me tighter to him. I lift myself rather gracefully, wrapping my legs around his body as he turns, stepping down into the living room.

My eyes reopen when I hear a door open and suddenly, we're in his bedroom.

This becomes real then. He sets me onto my feet gently and reaches for my jacket. It falls onto the ground, along with my t-shirt which he pulls over my head. My arms come down and I reach for his. But he hesitates, grabbing my hands, startling me. My eyes flicker to his shoulder warily, remembering his scar.

"Does it hurt?"

He shakes his head without releasing his grip. I kiss him softly, wishing I knew what the scar was from. I don't want to say or do anything wrong.

"Do you want to take it off yourself?"

He chuckles darkly and suddenly shakes his head, clearing his throat, releasing me. "No, I'm sorry. You can if you want to."

"If it bothers you-"

"It doesn't."

He guides my hands to the bottom of his shirt, letting me grip it. I glance at him, apprehensively and he nods reassuringly. I get the white fabric over his head and let it fall to the floor beside mine.

I run my hand over his chest for the first time, entranced at the sheer size of it. He's lean yet somehow thick, bulky. My mouth touches the flesh right above his chest hair with a softness and feel his fingers massage my scalp tenderly.

My eyes drift over the harsh looking wound and then back into his dark multi-colored eyes. "Does it hurt?"

"No, not anymore," he reassures me, shaking his head.

"How were you burned?"

He looks down immediately and I feel as if he's about to run away from me. I feel the tension begin to cultivate and quickly shake my head, chuckling.

"You don't have to tell me. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I cup his face, chuckling. "Just kiss me."

It takes him a while to but eventually he does, reaching for my pants with clear hesitance. I want to hit myself. The entire atmosphere has changed. He's in his thoughts. Why would I ever think that getting a question out of Matteo would be easy?