Page 20 of Who We Are

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“And a man?”

I can’t meet his eyes, but I won’t lie to him either. “You know the shit that goes through my head, Matt.” I scratch the back of my neck. “Just once. I’ve only let one man take me and it was during my senior year of high school. Since then, I’ve taken care of it myself.”

His hands knit through my hair. He lowers his lips, touching mine.

This kiss is soft, slow, and dare I say, sweet.

No one has ever kissed me the way he’s doing it, as if baring his soul and snatching mine all while promising that he’ll take care of me.

And with that kiss, I let him take me for a late dinner, knowing I’m safe with him.

After dinner, I agree to go with Matt to his family home in Santa Barbara. He has the power to convince me to do pretty much anything he wants. The dark night doesn’t allow me to appreciate the home. As we enter the house through the garage door, I only set foot in the hallway that leads to a set of stairs and the powder room.

After washing my hands, I make my way toward the illuminated foyer, but the softly played melody stops me. It comes from the second door on the right, so I walk toward the music. Matt sits behind an elegant, black grand piano. His head sways, his eyes are closed, and his hands effortlessly stroke the keys. I concentrate on him, his graceful movements, and the music he brings to life with each note he plays, connecting with the instrument, making it his.

“Sometimes I forget you’re a musician,” I say. His eyes open and he stops playing.

“You playWithout A Compassat your venues.” He delivers a cocky smile. “Mostly my music, not Jacob’s.” He winks.

I roll my eyes. His ego is as big as his… fuck, I need to stop thinking about his cock. “It’s the same band, and I don’t play anything. My DJ does.”

Matt rises from the piano bench and walks toward me. “Yeah, yeah, we were a band, but I composed the fun, snappy tunes.” He brushes my lips with his. “Our styles are different, and I have never written a real love song. Not that it matters. I’m happy with what I write. Maybe someday I’ll fall in love, and the muse will strike me with the cheesy stuff. For now, let me take you to my room and make you mine.”

His.

I push a hand through my hair. How I wish that I could let myself be his. Just the thought of looking at a guy makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong.

Dirty.

Shameful.

Remorse tries to force its way inside my head, but for tonight, I’ll push it away.

My head is so messed up. Jesus. Thinking about another guy, touching myself when I do so, or… Right after the guilt and shame take over me, I disengage. These days I hate everything about that mental process. All of it, how it makes me feel. I want to be different for him, but it’s impossible.

The fucking shame tarnishes my time with Matt with a dark shadow that doesn’t let me enjoy him fully. There’s a nagging voice that says what I’m doing with him is wrong, unnatural.

“You’re thinking again,” Matt curses under his breath, caressing my jawline with his lips. “Bed. We need a bed to stop that big head of yours from working. Tonight, we’re going to move forward, babe.”

Forward, fuck yes. His words tilt my entire world on its axis, my heart thudding with anticipation. He takes me to the upstairs area, the second bedroom to the left. The moon coming through the window illuminates the room, and as a result, his eyes sparkle.

I realize I’m trembling. My entire body feels like it’s overheating. We’ve reached a turning point, and our relationship will be different once we cross it.

“There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing, Tristan, nothing.” He steps closer to me, and I drop my head down on his shoulder. His words remind me so much of Blake’s before…

For a few breaths, I forgot. I allowed myself to cross the barriers. But after I came down from the high, the memories slammed back. All the reasons why I shouldn’t allow him to fuck me shattered my mind and made me leave. Will that happen again?

“I won’t force you to stay, but I will force you to enjoy every second you’re with me, baby. I promise to take care of you.” And with the steely look of determination in his eyes, the last of my defenses crumble to the ground.

“I need you, Matt,” I say, running a hand down his back, feeling each of his muscles under his skin. “Make me yours for now.”

“For now?” He chuckles lightly, moving his hands between us, unzipping my pants and reaching for my cock with his big, calloused hand. “Maybe I’ll make this last longer than usual. I want to be inside you so bad that I might have you all night long, or even until next Sunday.”

My groin tightens with those words. Yes, how I wish I could stay with him that long. My thoughts disappear as I feel one of his hands reach my backside, squeezing it hard.

“I want you so damn much that I can’t think straight any longer.” My legs shake with his words, and they’re about to give out, but instead, I thrust forward, letting my dick slide through Matt’s fist.

“I’m yours, Matt.”


Tags: Claudia Burgoa Romance