INTO THE FLAMES

Chapter 19

Matt and I are wrapped in my bedsheets. I'm wearing one of his college tee shirts and he has me tucked into his chest. The open window brought a steady stream of warm summer air into my bedroom. It's two-thirty, and I've been trying to fall back asleep for almost fifteen minutes.

He's cute when he sleeps.

Hair falls in front of his eyes, eyes I know will be incredible to wake up next to. The way he holds me, so protectively even in his sleep, makes me curl even closer to him. He radiates warmth. His lips, so perfect and so pink, are slighted partly, like he's pursing them, in the middle of confusion. His breaths take both of us up and down slightly, up and over the clouds.

And that's when I realize that I love him.

The first time he ever saw my scars, he didn't know where they came from, where I came from. Then he heard about me, about Jax, about my time in the hospital, about my medication, about the scars on my stomach, the smaller ones on my wrist. Last night, he knew that I didn't want to go all the way, respected that I wasn't ready. It's been three weeks since Matt found me in the closet, and I keep saying that I'm not ready, but there's a part of me that is. I know that thought I wasn't ready because of Jax, but I didn't want Matt to stop last night.

But when he finished the tender trail of kisses down my stomach, he took his time with each arm, softy pressing his lips to the underside of both my wrists.

I noticed that tears were slipping down my face, just as they had a few hours before. I wished for his hands that pressed against my back would glide the tears off my cheeks just as they had the night before. I wish he would look at me and turn those tears from happy tears to exasperated tears. He always knew how to kiss me when I cried. He held my lips just like he held me. So fucking tight.

He shifts next to me, and my eyes fall to a line of skin showing on his stomach. I imagine the feel of his skin on me, his lips on me, his breath on me. I imagine my room exactly how it looks now, the blinds closed, darkness surrounding us, the light of a few candles illuminating the perspiration on our skin, the echos of our breath, the creases of the sheets, the colors of our lips, his eyes piercing through the dark to find me.

I fall asleep with that on my brain, and I sleep better than I have in a year.

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When I open my eyes, I see those two piercing emeralds staring down at me. They're not fully awake themselves, still fighting to stay open. His mouth curls into a smirk before he leans down and kisses me.

"Morning, beautiful," he says. His voice is tired, raspy, but his breath is warm on my skin. I grin up at him and close my eyes to savor the feeling of his lips caressing my forehead.

"Hi," I say softly into his chest. He chuckles, and I'm not sure why. When I look up at him, he's staring at my lips.

"God, you're adorable," he says, but when it comes from him, it doesn't feel juvenile. I grin into his bicep, butterflies stirring in my stomach.

He uses his thumb and forefinger to lift my chin. When our eyes meet, I see how many different shades of green are in his eyes, how many waves come together to make up those beautiful emeralds.

"I love your eyes," I say, and then blush. I've never been so blunt, especially not with him. But looking up at him, being with him, makes me feel so open, like no matter what I say he won't judge me.

We're staring at each other, taking in so much of each other. His eyes drift from mine to my lips to my body and back as his breath quickens, but my eyes never stop watching his. We're slowly inching closer to each other, the heat of our bodies pulling each other in. When we press against each other, I feel Matt get hard against my thigh and it immediately makes me weak.

He kisses me, deeper and harder and slower than before. We rolled slightly, and he presses my back into the mattress and crawls on top of me. He wraps his arms around me, one around my waist and the other bent next to me. His hand cradles my face as we kiss, the sounds of the sheets shifting and lips and gasps for air fill the space around us.

His lips leave mine and travel in a teasing line from my ear down my neck, stopping at the top of my chests. He kisses back up to my lips, and all the while I'm just trying to breathe, trying to control myself, trying to do anything but embarrass myself.

He moves his hand from my face and clasps one of my hands in his. Our connected hands fall next to us as we try desperately to get closer, to press ourselves tighter together, to feel what we're both in dire need for.

Emotion.

Trust.

Each other.