Page 5 of To Her

The thought sent a rush of heat to my core, and I had to clench my thighs together as I stood. It had been too long since I'd felt this kind of attraction—this immediate, visceral response to someone.

We followed the crowd onto the deck, where the air was cool and salt-scented.

The ocean stretched out before us, a vast expanse of darkness broken only by the reflection of stars and the distant lights of boats.

Someone had set up speakers outside, and music mingled with the sound of waves and laughter.

Matt led me to a spot at the railing, slightly removed from the main group. "Better view from here," he explained, though I suspected he, like me, preferred a little distance from the crowd.

As we waited for midnight, he told me about growing up north, about his parents and how he liked it better down here. I found myself sharing more than I intended—about my half-Chinese heritage, my complicated relationship with my father, my love of art that I rarely indulged anymore.

"You should make time for it," he said when I mentioned neglecting my drawing. "If it's something you love."

"Maybe," I said noncommittally. "When life settles down."

He gave me a look that suggested he knew that time might never come unless I made it happen, but he didn't push.

Around us, people began counting down the final seconds of the year. Matt turned to face me fully, his expression suddenly serious.

"I'm glad Jake introduced us," he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear it over the countdown.

"Me too," I admitted, surprising myself with my honesty.

"TEN! NINE! EIGHT!" the crowd chanted.

"I'd like to kiss you at midnight," Matt said, his eyes searching mine. "If that's okay."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "It's okay," I managed.

"SEVEN! SIX! FIVE!"

He stepped closer, one hand coming to rest lightly on my waist. I could smell him now—a mix of clean laundry, whiskey, and something uniquely him.

"FOUR! THREE! TWO!"

I tilted my face up to his, my lips parting slightly in anticipation.

"ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

As fireworks exploded over the ocean, Matt's mouth found mine. The kiss was gentle at first, almost tentative—a question rather than a demand. But when I responded, leaning into him, his arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer.

His lips were soft but insistent, moving against mine with a confidence that made my knees weak. When his tongue traced the seam of my lips, I opened for him without hesitation, a small sound of pleasure escaping me as the kiss deepened.

One of his hands came up to cup my face, his thumb stroking my cheek with a tenderness that contrasted with the growing intensity of the kiss. I found myself pressing against him, my body seeking more contact, more friction, more of whatever he was willing to give.

Around us, fireworks continued to burst in brilliant colours, but I barely noticed them.

All I could focus on was the feel of Matt's body against mine, the taste of whiskey on his tongue, the way his hand at my waist had slipped lower, fingers splayed across my hip in a possessive grip that sent sparks of desire shooting through me.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing harder than normal, I felt dizzy with want. A pulsing heat had settled between my thighs, and I had to resist the urge to press them together for relief.

"Happy New Year," Matt murmured, his forehead resting against mine.

"Happy New Year," I echoed, my voice huskier than usual.

He smiled, the expression softer than any I'd seen from him yet. "That was..."

"Yeah," I agreed, knowing exactly what he meant.

We stayed on the deck long after the fireworks ended, talking and stealing kisses as the party continued around us. His hand rarely left mine, our fingers intertwined as if we'd been doing this for years instead of hours.

It was nearly two in the morning when Haley found us, her eyes slightly glassy from champagne but her smile knowing.

"We're heading back to the house," she said. "Jake's arranged for Ubers. You coming?"

I looked at Matt, suddenly uncertain. We'd been in our own little bubble for hours, but the real world was intruding now, bringing with it all my usual doubts and fears.

As if sensing my hesitation, he squeezed my hand. "I should get back to my hotel," he said.

"Don't be ridiculous," Haley interjected before I could respond. "We have like 2 spare bedrooms. You can stay with us."

Matt looked at me, a question in his eyes. I knew what he was asking—was I comfortable with him coming back to the house? Was this moving too fast?

Part of me wanted to say yes, it was too fast. The cautious part that had been building walls since Ben's betrayal. But another part—the part that still remembered how to hope—wanted more time with him.

"She's right," I said finally. "No point paying for a hotel when there's plenty of room."

The smile he gave me was worth the risk. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

The Uber ride back to Haley's parents' mansion was a blur of stolen glances and not-so-accidental touches.

Matt sat beside me in the backseat, his thigh pressed against mine, his hand finding excuses to brush my arm, my knee, my hand.

Each contact sent a fresh wave of heat through me, until I was practically squirming in my seat.

By the time we arrived, I was a mess of conflicting emotions—desire warring with caution, excitement with fear. I wanted him with an intensity that shocked me, but I was also terrified of making another mistake, of trusting too quickly.

Haley, ever the perfect hostess despite her tipsy state, showed Matt to one of the guest rooms on the opposite side of the house from mine. I stood awkwardly in the hallway as she pointed out the bathroom, the linen closet, where to find extra towels.

"Thanks," Matt said when she finally finished her tour. "This is very generous of you."

"Our pleasure," Haley said with a wink that was about as subtle as a foghorn. "Sleep well, you two. Or don't. Whatever."

With that, she disappeared down the hall, leaving Matt and me alone in the doorway of his temporary bedroom.

"Your friend is..."

"Subtle as a brick?" I suggested. "Yeah, that's Haley."

He laughed, then grew serious, his eyes searching mine. "I had a really good time tonight."

"Me too," I admitted.

"I'd like to see you again. Before I ship out."

The reminder of his impending departure was like a bucket of cold water. I'd almost forgotten that he wasn't staying, that whatever this was had an expiration date.

"When do you leave?" I asked.

"Two weeks."

Two weeks. Not long enough to build anything real, but plenty of time to get hurt if I wasn't careful.

"I'd like that," I said anyway, because despite everything, I meant it.

He smiled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The simple gesture shouldn't have affected me as much as it did, but I found myself leaning into his touch like a cat seeking affection.

"Can I kiss you goodnight?" he asked, his voice low.

In answer, I stepped closer, tilting my face up to his. This kiss was different from our midnight one—slower, more deliberate, but with an underlying heat that promised more. His hands stayed respectfully at my waist, but I could feel the restraint in his touch, the careful control.

When we broke apart, I was breathless again, my body humming with a need I hadn't felt in months. It would be so easy to invite him to my room, to lose myself in the physical and worry about the consequences later.

But I wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

"Goodnight, Matt," I said, stepping back before I could change my mind.

He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Goodnight, Geri. Sweet dreams."

I turned and walked to my room before I could do something stupid like change my mind. Behind me, I heard his door close with a soft click.

Alone in my room, I leaned against the closed door, my heart still racing. What was I doing? Getting involved with someone who was leaving in two weeks seemed like a recipe for heartbreak. And yet...

I couldn't remember the last time I'd connected with someone so quickly, so completely. There was something about Matt that cut through my defences, that made me want to take risks I'd sworn off after Ben.

As I changed out of my dress and removed my makeup, I replayed the night in my mind—our conversations, the way he listened, the feel of his lips on mine. My body still thrummed with unfulfilled desire, a persistent ache between my thighs that made me press them together as I climbed into bed.

Two weeks wasn't long. But maybe it was enough for whatever this was. A rebound. A fling. A way to remember that I was still alive, still capable of wanting and being wanted.

Or maybe—and this was the thought that scared me most as I drifted toward sleep—maybe it was the beginning of something I wasn't ready to name yet.