by Siân James
Awesomeness.
Once our meeting was complete, I checked the few emails responding to mine. They all expressed the same things, giving me confidence in myself and in what I’d been building with them.
Matt was still asleep on the couch, and I would have put a light blanket over him and left him there if it wasn’t for way his long body was scrunched up. His feet were dangling over one arm rest and his head was propped at a height appropriate for reading but not sleeping. In the morning, he’d have a stiff neck.
I crouched by his side, excitement and anxiety coursing through me as I anticipated telling him what I’d done. Would he be excited too? Flattered as he’d suggested? Or would he think it was too extreme? Would I be coming across too strong? Maybe I shouldn’t tell him straight up, maybe I should—
“You’re thinking very hard there, peaches.” He opened his eyes slowly after he spoke, tiredness etched in each corner of his face, but he was alert and watching me. The colour rose in my cheeks again at being caught.
“Peaches?”
He traced a finger across my burning cheeks. “When you blush, your skin reminds me of peaches and pie.”
I scrunched my nose. “Not cream?”
“Maybe in the winter, but after summer you have a golden glow that couldn’t be called cream unless it was mixed with cinnamon.”
I pressed my lips together to stop my smile. “You’ve thought about this a lot.”
“It’s kept me awake at night,” he teased. “You all finished, then?”
I nodded. “Yes, I wanted to—”
His hand on my cheek moved to the back of my head and he pulled me in for a deep kiss. It was as delicious as it was unexpected. He tasted like red wine and Matt and was the perfect dessert to finish the night.
His tongue swept inside, distracting me as his hands reached out and tugged until I fell onto his chest.
“Come up here,” he murmured against my mouth and I obliged, swinging one leg up and over so I was straddling his hips, our chests plastered together with my elbows propping me up in the couch. Our faces were just far enough apart to keep my eyes from crossing when I looked at him, but close enough that our breathes mingled until I felt as if I was breathing the air from his lungs.
“I’m here.” I stated unnecessarily and he grinned before lifting his head to capture my mouth once again. His hands trailed light through my hair then gently tickled their way across my shoulders, down my back and over my bottom where he squeezed and focused his attention.
As his kiss deepened, I wondered if this was it, if we were finally going to get down to the fun end of this truncated relationship. I sure hoped so because I was starting to get a serious case of blue bean around this guy.
His hands moved down to the back of my thighs so he was caressing my skin, distracting me and turning me on like nothing I’d ever experienced. How did he do that?
Distracted by his devastating kisses and clever hands, he did something with his body, shifting me so was on my back wedged between him and the couch. I was a Matt-couch sandwich and I was pretty happy with that. One of his legs slid between mine so I was straddling his thigh, one of his biceps was my pillow, and his free hand was making seductive swirls on the seat of my cut-offs.
Now I had a dilemma here, I was lying on one arm, it was tucked up between us and quite comfortable, but I wasn’t sure what to do with the other one. I could snake it back under his arm to his waist but it would be awkward, or I could lift it and run it through his hair, but I was at an angle which would mean I’d have to hold my arm in the air to do it and it’d be awkward and my arm would get tired.
Matt solved the problem for me before I could think too much on it by sliding his hand up my side, along my ribs then up my arm until he could thread his fingers into mine. He brought them between us but not so it pushed us apart, then broke the kiss but only to lean his forehead against mine. “Can I touch you?”
I nodded. “Yes please.”
He laughed and dipped his mouth back to mine, his tongue swept inside as his thigh pushed my legs further apart until I was straddling him like this morning, but now we were horizontal.
His hand pulled my arm up over my head, then left it there, making the slow progress down until it reached my ribs beside my breast. My nipples were both tingling, but the one closest to his hand was about to vibrate against his chest if he didn’t give it any attention. And then he made a delicious swiped with his thumb, right where I needed it.
I gasped into his mouth, my hips involuntarily pushing into his, and I felt him smile against my mouth. But I was beyond caring because he did it again. This time he drew excruciatingly slow circles around my nipple, not quite touching it until I was sure if he wasn’t careful, I’d stab him in the chest. I bowed my body, pushing my breast towards him, seeking friction and he finally obliged, gently pinching so a zing of arousal shot directly from my nipple to the other nipple and straight to my lower belly, and I moaned.
He swallowed my moan, snaking his hand down my belly, and I thought he was going to go for the button of my shorts (Yay!) but instead he dipped under my shirt (Boo), then back up, skimming his fingers gently along my stomach so goosebumps and fire were left in their wake. This time, he didn’t mess around, pulling the cup of my bra down, swirling his finger tortuously around my nipple before gently pinching and sending more twists of arousal to the apex of my thighs.
I tried rubbing my legs together, desperate for the friction but his thigh was in the way. He must have felt my frustration because the next moment his hand moved from my breast and was unbuttoning my shorts, “Is this okay?”
“Yes!” I gasped, and he didn’t laugh at me this time.
His hand slide into my panties as his thigh lifted mine further still so I was open to his ministrations. His fingers parted me, dipped down to find where I was most slick, then drew it back up to swirl right where I needed him to.
I whimpered into his mouth, my arm overhead no longer able to stay put, instead thrusting into his hair to hold his mouth to mine as he swirled again, slowly, deliberately, building it slowly but with intention. He wanted my full surrender.
I gasped as I got closer and closer, no longer able to focus on his kiss I pulled my head back, hitting the back of the couch. I felt his eyes on my face, but I was couldn’t focus on anything except the swirling of his fingers. He dipped down to my entrance, gently massaged the sensitive skin until I felt like I’d die if he didn’t enter me and finally, finally he inserted first one, then two fingers inside, curled them up and found my sweet spot that I swear to God I had no idea I had.
What the hell? It’s not as if I hadn’t explored before. And I wasn’t a virgin, but holy hell, how had I not been able to find it?
My eyes flew open as I gasped at his movement.
He stopped, his brows drawn in concern. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, no, no! Don’t stop!” It was more a moan than a command, but he listened anyway, this time his thumb got back in on the action and took over swirling while his fingers worked their magic, thrusting in and out. In a very short space of time after that, I shattered in the most intense and overwhelming orgasm of my life.
When I came back to myself, I was lying just where I had been before, a Matt-couch sandwich. Sweat beaded my brow, and Matt held me close as he gently kissed my temple.
I tilted my head so my lips met his, and he kissed me slow, deliberate and sweet.
“You okay?” he rumbled against my mouth, and I wondered if other couples typically spoke while their lips still touched. Then I decided I didn’t really care about other couples, but I very much liked that Matt did so with me.
Was I okay? Uh, yeah. Yes. Very much so. I was very okay. The okayest (it should be a word) I’d ever been in fact.
Not wanting to spew brain diarrhea I gave a nod. I couldn’t stop my grin if I’d tried. “Mmhmm.”
His returning grin matched mine. “Good.” He ran a hand up and down my side and squeezed
my thigh. “I didn’t want to rush you, but I can’t seem to keep my hands off your body.”
I paused at his words. What did he mean he didn’t want to rush me? He only had a few weeks until he left for Sydney, right?
I realised it was probably pertinent to ask him when he was planning on returning to the city so we could make some more solid plans. Plus, I had to tell him about the email I’d sent out this evening, but he interrupted my thoughts by shifting to move off the couch.
I gripped him tighter. “Where are you going?”
“I need to get to bed.”
Guilt stabbed at me. What time had he woken up this morning? And here he was sleeping on my couch, and I wake him and he gets me off? What about him?
“I’m sorry.” Then in my best sex kitten voice I asked, “Do you want me to help you get to sleep?” and ran my hand down his chest but he grinned and grabbed my hand before I could explore the intriguing bulge in his boardies.
“I didn’t do what I just did for reciprocation, I did it because as I said, I can’t keep my hands off you. We have time.” He kissed me, eased off the couch and pulled me to standing, did up the button on my shorts and tugged me along behind him as he moved to the door.
Disappointed, I trailed after him, wondering whether I’d just inadvertently stuffed up some foreplay etiquette I wasn’t aware of. Then he pushed me up against the door, leaned his hard, warm body against mine and kissed me until I didn’t have another thought in my head.
When he pulled back this time it felt reluctant. “Stop thinking so hard.”
I nodded, and he gave me another peck before grabbing his keys and opening the door. “Lock this behind me, yeah?”
I nodded.
“See you soon?”
I nodded again. “Yes, soon.”
“Good night, Izzie.”
“Night, Matt.”
He moved through the door, closing it behind him.
I’d forgotten to tell him about my email and to ask when he was going back to Sydney.
Chapter 19
I didn’t get to see Matt on Saturday at all. I’d messaged in the morning to let him know I was now free Saturday evening, but he didn't reply until mid-morning, apologising for not replying sooner because he'd been surfing, and that he'd already agreed to help Jake at the Grape again. He did suggest I come hang out at the bar, and part of me really wanted to but another part of me felt like that was a bit clingy and I didn't want him to think I was a stage five clinger.
This was also the reason I'd yet to let him know about the email I sent last night in which I'd cancelled all but two consultations over the next month and would be taking a short, temporary step back from A Woman's Touch. I'd already scheduled less consultations over the two weeks following the reopening of the Little Flower Shop, but I decided to scale back even further. Aside from being booked solid and unable to find a date night (or three) for Matt, Mum was right. I'd been neglecting my friendships and Tash deserved better from me. Also, the coming week would be the busiest for me so far with finishing the painting of the shop then all the unloading of products and rearranging of furniture and unpacking of boxes and preparing for the opening and the festival. I can't believe I thought I'd have the time and energy to have one or two consultations almost every night as well.
I was starting to think maybe my ambition had got away from me. Maybe I was over-stretching myself. Yesterday, I’d made a basic booking error, which had never happened before. If I were honest with myself, I hadn't felt on my game with my clients lately, and that sucked for them. I owed them more.
Dichotomously, I hated I was having these thoughts only after my mother had pointed this out to me. It left me wondering if I had placed more emphasis on behaving and making choices with regards to her opinion rather than to what I wanted out of my life.
But … no. That assumption didn't feel quite right.
No doubt there was some truth to it, but Mum had never told me explicitly to be financially independent and successful before I started a serious relationship. If I reflected, I could remember a few conversations, especially over the last few years when she asked whether there was anyone special, and I waved the comment away, saying it wasn't important right now. Her response had always been the same: Love will find you when you least expect it; your only job is to have the courage to hold on when it finds you.
Hmmm.
I wasn't in love with Matt.
So it was a moot point.
I wasn't.
I wasn’t anywhere near that.
The thought shivered down my spine and settled somewhere deep.
“Did a goose just walk over your grave?” Camille interrupted my thoughts as we drove back to town after finishing up the flowers for the wedding. It was mid-afternoon and we were going to pick up the paint and try to get one wall started.
Well, Tash and I were. She was going to meet me at the shop. Camille “didn't do menial work”, apparently. But this was rubbish. I'd seen her weeding Tash's garden, red faced and dirty in the heat of the afternoon sun, not to mention all the things she did to help me run and maintain a florist. I think she just didn't appreciate the idea of getting paint splatters in her hair.
“Something like that.” I mumbled, feeling an odd sense of restlessness.
“Your phone is ringing.”
I jumped and dove for my phone which was sitting in the centre console and glanced at my screen before swiping to answer. “Hey,” I said softly, and I saw Camille grin out of the corner of my eye.
“Hey. What are you up to?”
“Camille and I are just driving back to the shop.”
“The wedding went well?”
“Yeah, it was lovely.” I grinned because it had been luminous, and the bride had been divine and the bridesmaids all beautiful. I got to meet the groom too this time, which doesn't always happen, and he was so excited, it was sweet. Sometimes I wished I could stay and watch the ceremony.
“Why are you headed to the shop now?”
“Well, we have some things I’d stored my friend's shop in Byron Bay to unload—I can keep them there now instead, and Tash is going to meet me to do some painting.”
“Sounds like fun. How long until you get there?”
I checked my watch. “We have to go to the paint shop first to collect the paint, but I said I'd meet Tash there in about an hour. How's the work going at your sister's place?”
“Good, good. We're making good progress. I'm just running a few errands. Can you believe they didn't have an Edger?”
I grinned. What the hell was an edger? “No Edger? How are they even functioning as adults?”
“That's what I'm saying.”
I laughed because I could hear the smile in his voice. The moment stretched on but it wasn't awkward, just two people pausing in conversation but not wanting to hang up. I listened to the other sounds coming through the speaker I deduced he was in his truck.
“Hey, so there's something I wanted to tell you—” I said.
At the same time, he said, “I wanted to ask you something—”
We laughed
“You go,” I said.
“No, please, you go first.”
“No, no, it wasn't anything important.”
He sighed and even through a phone connection I could hear the frustration in his voice. Why was he frustrated? I was letting the man speak!
“Well, I was talking to my folks this morning about you—your shop,” he corrected himself and my heart rate spiked. Why was he talking to his folks about me? Or my shop? “And my sister was there, we were at her house, and she's always been a huge fan of your flowers. I'm not sure if you're aware but her husband Tom has a standing order delivered from you once a month for her.” He was talking a lot faster than normal, and he sounded nervous, but I had no idea why he would feel nervous when I was the one he was discussing with his family. “Anyway, Mum and Louise want to visit your new shop floor sometime and be prepared because they're also going
to ask if they can help with setting it up. Feel free to say no.” His last sentence finished in a rush of breath.
Dumbfounded I stared at the road ahead. I mean, I knew Joy and Mick, I'd known them for years ever since Mum and I became members of the Emerald Cove Surf Lifesaving Club when I was in high school. Matt's whole family were practically royalty there, as were Tash and Andy's. I'd had some weekend lifesaving shifts with Mick and Louise, and Joy and Mum had become friends when they discovered they both loved a good murder mystery book and ran their own book club for a while. But I'd never had any shifts with Matt, and because he was a year older than me, he'd also been out of my friend zone.
What I meant was, I knew his family, but I'd never spent time with them as their son's … romantic interest? Woman he was—not shagging, because sadly that hadn't happened yet. Snogging? Having lovely long phone conversations with? Making sing the hallelujah chorus by sticking his hand down her pants?
“Sure, not a problem.” I wondered when I'd made that decision because my heart didn't think it was a good one. “I'll be there most of the week. They can come in anytime.”
“You’re amazing,” Matt said, his voice warm with an emotion I couldn't name but made me warm and fuzzy inside. “I tried really hard to talk them down, but they insisted you were all good friends and they just want to help.”
“Not at all, I need all the help I can get. Though …” A thought came to me. “Isn't Louise pregnant?”
“Yep, seven months.”
“Well she won't be able to help then, I'm painting, and the fumes won't be good for her or the baby.”
He sighed. “I did mention that, but she said she can sit at a table outside Andy and Luke's café and unwrap and fragile items you might have stored. Please tell me you have fragile items you need unwrapping? My sister was always a bit scary, but pregnant Louise is a whole other ball game.”