Page 7 of To Her

That was all it took. The orgasm crashed over me in waves, my back arching as pleasure radiated outward from my core. Matt didn't let up, working me through every aftershock until I had to push weakly at his shoulders, too sensitive for more.

He pressed one final kiss to my inner thigh before moving back up my body, looking entirely too pleased with himself. His lips were wet, his hair mussed from my hands, and I'd never seen anything sexier.

I reached for the waistband of his boxers, eager to return the favour, but he caught my hand, bringing it to his lips instead.

"That was just for you," he said, pressing a kiss to my palm.

"But..." I glanced down at the obvious bulge in his underwear. "Don't you want...?"

"Of course I want," he said with a small laugh. "But that's not why I came here tonight."

"Then why did you?"

He settled beside me, pulling the covers up over both of us. "I wasn't going to be able to sleep unless I knew what you tasted like."

The bluntness of his statement, delivered with such casual confidence, sent another pulse of heat through me despite my recent orgasm.

"And now that you know?" I asked, turning to face him.

He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Now I'll definitely need to taste you again. But for tonight..." He pulled me closer, arranging us so that my head rested on his chest, his arm around my shoulders. "For tonight, this is perfect."

I should have felt awkward—I wasn't usually a cuddler, especially with someone I'd just met. But there was something about Matt that felt... safe. Comfortable. As if we'd known each other much longer than a few hours.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my bare shoulder.

"It's okay," I confirmed, letting myself relax against him.

We lay in comfortable silence for a while, his steady heartbeat under my ear gradually slowing as we both began to drift toward sleep.

"Geri?" he murmured, his voice already thick with approaching slumber.

"Hmm?"

"Happy New Year."

I smiled against his chest. "Happy New Year, Matt."

The insistent beeping of my alarm dragged me from a deep, dreamless sleep. I groaned, fumbling for my phone to silence it, then froze as my hand encountered warm skin instead.

The events of the night before came rushing back as I opened my eyes to find Matt still asleep beside me, one arm flung over his head, the other still wrapped loosely around my waist. In the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, I could see more details of his tattoos—the way they told a story across his skin, images and words flowing together in a personal narrative.

For a moment, I allowed myself to simply look at him, to appreciate the strong line of his jaw, the dark sweep of his lashes against his cheeks, the slight part of his lips as he breathed deeply in sleep.

Then reality intruded in the form of my alarm starting up again. I silenced it quickly, but Matt stirred, his eyes blinking open slowly.

"Morning," he said, his voice rough with sleep.

"Morning," I replied, suddenly self-conscious of my morning breath and raccoon eyes from not removing my makeup.

He didn't seem to notice or care, pulling me closer for a lazy kiss. "What time is it?"

I glanced at my phone. "Six-thirty."

He groaned. "Why are we awake at six-thirty on New Year's Day?"

"Because I have to open the restaurant for the morning coffee rush," I explained, reluctantly extracting myself from his embrace. "I agreed to cover for someone weeks ago…”

Matt propped himself up on one elbow, watching as I gathered clothes for the day. "Need any help?"

I shook my head. "You should go back to sleep. I won’t be back till later tonight.”

"I could come by the restaurant," he suggested. "Have lunch, keep you company."

The offer was tempting—more tempting than it should have been. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. I want to."

I paused, clean underwear and jeans in hand. "Why?"

He looked genuinely puzzled by the question. "Because I like you. Because I want to spend more time with you before I ship out."

The reminder of his impending departure was like a splash of cold water. Two weeks. That was all this could ever be.

"Okay," I said, pushing aside the twinge of disappointment. "The Harborview. I'll be there until two, then I’ll be at the day spa for a few hours, then back at Harbourview till ten.”

His smile was worth the risk of getting more attached than I should. "I'll be there."

As I headed for the shower, I couldn't help but wish I hadn't agreed to work today. The thought of spending the morning serving coffee to hungover patrons instead of staying in bed with Matt seemed like a particularly cruel twist of fate.

But maybe it was for the best. A little distance, a little time to think about what exactly I was getting myself into with a man who would be gone in fourteen days.

Two weeks wasn't long. But as I stepped under the hot spray of the shower, I couldn't help but wonder if it might be just long enough to break my heart all over again.