I push my way inside, using my hip to close the door, then engage the lock and forgo kicking off my shoes even though I spent hours cleaning the apartment. I’m on a mission, so I head directly to the kitchen, where I place thebags on the counter and pull the food out, setting the refrigerator stuff to one side and the pantry items to the other. This way, I’m not going back and forth like a turkey with its head cut off. I glance at the clock, realizing five minutes have passed, which means I’ve got the rest of the time to head to my bedroom and grab the money.
As I’m moving that way, my phone buzzes in the purse I have draped across my body. I pull out the device, looking down at the screen as I’m walking, and see that it’s my roommates responding to my earlier text.
Mischa: So sorry, just saw your text. Is everything okay?
Me: No need to apologize. Unexpected car issues, but I have it figured out, and it’s at the shop now.
Liv: Shit, that’s the worst. I’m sorry, too. Is there anything I can do to help?
Me: All good here. Thank you, though! Enjoy the rest of your weekend <3
I back out of the app, hit the lock button on the side, and put it back in the pocket inside my purse where it belongs. I’m going to need both hands in order to get on the ground, slither beneath my bed, and detach what I need. And with that, I get down to business once again.
“Did you get everything done?” Matthew asks as I slide into the passenger seat.
“Yep.” I grab the side of my purse, lift it off, and set it down on the floorboard.
“Alright. Colt called me. He said it’s going to take a couple more hours until the tires are delivered to the shop. I figure we can go back to my place and order food until he’s finished.” His hand returns to my thigh once we’re heading out of my apartment parking lot.
“Umm, why would you order when you have a fridge and freezer full of food?” I’m also of the notion of telling him to turn back around. There’s plenty of food I just bought. Then again, I have no idea what time my roommates will be home, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think a meal consists of yogurt, lunch meat, cheese, and some fruit in his eyes.
“Kitten, there are a lot of things I can do in life. Cooking isn’t one of them. You’re the only one who uses the kitchen.” A good type of feeling settles in my stomach.
“Then what do you do on the days I’m not there to make you dinner?” I place my hand on top of his.
“Pick something up, eat at one of the guys' houses, and mooch off my parents. My mom is still sorely disappointed I can’t cook. She tried her hardest to teach me, but nothing helped. A lot of it probably has to do with my attention span. A phone call or email has me thinking about other shit. Then there’s the fact that it’s only me, hard to justify getting the kitchen dirty and making too much for it to go to waste. At least when you cook, there’s enough for yourself, too.”
“Oh, well, I guess that makes sense.” I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering if what I’m going to suggest next would be a good idea or teetering on the edge of overstepping. I’m going for it. Spending an exuberant amount of money on groceries only to eat out is frivolous in my eyes. “I could always make dinner?”
Matthew’s eyes are on the road, allowing me to study his profile and see the upturn of his lips. Today, he’s in a relaxed style, a black polo, dark wash denims that fit him to utter perfection, loose but cupping him in all the right ways, and a pair of sneakers. This is my first time seeing him in such a relaxed state, and I find that I really enjoy it. Don’t get me wrong. The three-piece suits are hotter than hell, match his personality completely in what I can only imagine is a dominating personality in and out of the courtroom, and I’m sure he turns heads anytime he enters a room.
“I’d like that.” He glances over at me with a wolfish smile full of promises, which further proves my point about the dominance he exudes.
“I’m not sure we’re talking about food anymore.” I can feel the effect he has on me take over. I’m back in my bed, his voice rasping over my skin even though we were only connected by the telephone. My core pulses, I’m soaked without so much as a touch, and my breathing quickens, nipples tightening. The only thing I can do to hold myself together is to close my eyes. Which sadly means losing Matthew’s gaze, but if I don’t, I’m going to do something reckless. Like beg him to pull over on the side of the road, climb over the center console, and plant myself in his lap. Where things go from there will no doubt be in Matthew’s court.
“We definitely aren’t. The only thing I’m hungry for is a taste of you, kitten.” His hand slides up my thigh, and a shiver rolls through my body the closer his thick fingers move to my center. “Open your thighs for me, Letty. Let me feel you. I bet you’re wet. So close already, and I’ve barelytouched you.” I do as he says, keeping my hand on top of his when he cups my pussy. He doesn’t do anything else, just holds me there. “Fuck, kitten, you’re drenched.”
“Matthew,” I sigh his name.
“That’s not what you call me when we’re alone.”
“Daddy.” I rock my hips, silently begging for more.
“Hold that thought, kitten.” His phone rings through the speakers, and the name on the screen is one I’ve recognized before. Sadly, I lose Matthew’s hand when he presses the button on the screen and immediately answers, “Hey, Jude, you’re on speakerphone.”
“Hi, Letty. Matthew. Everything good, or do you need reinforcements?” Jude dives right in.
“Hi, Jude,” I respond. The last thing I want to be is rude. I almost snort because it rhymes, Jude and rude. Luckily, I hold back my one-sided humor.
“All is good. Colt is working on her car as we speak. We’re pulling into the building now.” They talk for a few minutes. I listen with half an ear and watch as Matthew handles his big SUV with care and precision. Each floor seems to pass by in a blur, and it’s not until he parks that I realize how long it’s been since I’ve been a passenger, another one of those worries that disappear when Matthew’s around. I realize I’m falling more and more for the man beside me.
12
MATTHEW
“Man, I don’t like this at all,” Colt tells me a few hours later. We’re at his mechanic shop, Letty just settled the bill, and he kept as much as he could away from her. Lying through his teeth, doing me another solid fucking favor, the first of which was taking half the cost and billing me when Letty isn’t around. The other was what he’s talking about right now.
“Me fucking either. Now I’m going to have to convince her to stay with me.” The problem with that is, how do I keep up the ruse of her tires being riddled with screws instead of slashed? The puncture marks were on the inside of the tires, meaning some jackass probably got on his stomach or back and slid beneath her car to do the damage.
