A Moment of Truth: A Complete Bonus Set (A Matter of Trust #1-2)

by Q. T. Ruby

  He grins—ziiip—and my pants are quickly slipped off my legs. Tossing them to the floor, he lies back down with his head between my legs. He presses purposeful kisses up the inside of my right thigh as my blood rushes to my center.

  He switches sides, leaving a trail of light kisses up the inner thigh of my left leg. His fingers follow along, hooking into my panties and tracing the delicate edges. Not soon enough, his face is mere inches from the most intimate part of me.

  “Claire?” he whispers.

  Hypnotized by his full, wet lips and mussed hair, I pant, “Yeah?”

  “Right here?” He edges his nose up the center of the lace of my panties.

  I whimper.

  “Right here is where I want to be, my love. Right here—no one else . . . remember?” His lazy gaze overflows with equal parts love and lust.

  “No one else. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” He drags my panties off and settles his face between my thighs again. “Which is why for the past seven weeks, I hoped one day I’d be able to tell you, to show you, just how much . . .” He leans forward and licks straight up my center.

  “Oh God!” I cry out, unable to control my hips bucking off the bed.

  “I love you,” he says and leans in to kiss and suck on my wet and ready flesh.

  “Oh God!” I call out again, drawing in a sharp breath as his exquisite tongue explores.

  He loves me with his mouth for the longest, most delicious time. My limbs grow weak and my legs shake as an intensifying need grows. As if he can sense how close I am, he stops and brings his face to mine. “I need you closer, my love.”

  I sit up and kiss him. Hard. I yank his pants off him as fast as I can and try to climb on top of him, but he stops me.

  “No,” he says quietly. “Tonight, I want to give you my love, give you all I’ve wanted to give you these last seven, in-fucking-credibly, long weeks.” With a devilish grin and a cocked eyebrow, he adds, “Please?”

  I nearly swoon unconscious. How can one “please” make me delirious? But, my God, I am. I’m out of my mind with love and devotion and desire . . . I need him.

  I lie back. His beautiful, naked body hovers over mine as his hardness teases my softness.

  “No more bad dreams, Claire . . . I love you.” And with that, he gently feeds my hungry body with all I want, everything I need.

  “Oh God.” My eyes close as his every incredible inch pushes and pulls inside of me.

  “Open your eyes, Claire.”

  When I do, his gaze seems to express a million emotions.

  His breath begins to fall hard from his parted lips. “This feels . . . so good. You feel so good. No one else?” he whispers, his voice husky.

  I whimper. “No one else.”

  He groans and plunges deeper, harder.

  I arch up to kiss him, but he pulls back. “No, I need to see you, your beautiful face. I need to see you become mine again.”

  Harder and harder we collide, my desire ratcheting to explosive levels. His brow furrows and his mouth falls open, but his eyes remain glued to mine.

  My insides tighten and twist in the most delicious way. I grip tighter onto his sweaty back. Moans escape me.

  Against my ear, he whispers, “I love watching your body react to mine . . . watching you get closer. I love that I can do that to you . . . I want to see you come undone, my love.”

  And with that, I reach my peak as hard, pounding pulses echo from my center. Not a moment later, his face screws up in anticipation just like I remember and love.

  He moans through his release, a garbled mix of my name and perhaps even a “fuck”.

  He collapses on top of me, catching his breath while the weight of his body takes mine away.

  “Dan?” I squeak out, tapping his back.

  “Oh, sorry,” he says, flopping onto his side. But he stays close, throwing a leg over mine. Leaning up on an elbow, he shoots me the sweetest, most satisfied smile. I love how his hair is in wild disarray.

  “I love you,” he says, kissing me gently.

  Every cell in my body parties like it’s 1999. I smile, I blush, and I giggle, entirely overwhelmed by the love pouring out from his every word and action.

  “I love you, too. It feels so good to say that.”

  He kisses me again. “It feels so good to hear it, too.”

  He strokes the side of my face, my cheek tingling at his touch. We’re quiet for a few minutes, catching our breath and soaking up the euphoria of the night. I run my thumb along his bottom lip, and leaning up, I kiss him gently.

  I drop my head back on the pillow. “This day sure turned out differently than I expected,” I say, smiling.

  “Yeah, I’d have to agree. I certainly didn’t expect to have you here, let alone naked in my bed.”

  I giggle and we both shift to face one another. “What do you mean? I’ve been here the whole time. I just got lost under the mounds of laundry and pizza boxes.”

  He laughs. “It’s a sty in here. Honestly, even I’m sickened by the mess.”

  “Why didn’t Colin help you clean it up? Seems like that might have been a good alternative to the punching.”

  “Fucking Colin,” Dan says, chuckling and shaking his head. “He meant well, but he drove me mad.”

  “Why?”

  “First of all, he hid my phone from me because . . . well, he was afraid I’d drunkenly call you, which I probably would have done; then he was over every night eating whatever I had in the house. Normally that doesn’t bother me, but sometimes I just wanted to be alone, you know?”

  “Yeah, I do. Was he worried to leave you alone?”

  “I don’t know. I was still working, and the hours at the end of filming got longer, so I didn’t have much free time. But when I did, I just wanted to be quiet and alone. Anyway, he meant well, but I was a prick, too.”

  “Yeah, you didn’t let him watch Grease.”

  “Ugh, that fucking movie. Colin’s loved that movie since the first time he saw it—I have no idea why. I mean, it’s okay, but Christ, to watch the thing ten times a day and then want to do karaoke at night with the songs? Fucking hell, enough is enough, you know? But that’s Colin.” He laughs.

  “He cracks me up.”

  “Yeah, he’s a good guy . . . and a great friend.” Dan pauses and smiles at me. “I loved watching you play today. You were incredible.”

  I smile wide. “Thank you. I was so nervous! But . . . it was probably the most defining moment in my life. I’ve always dreamt of doing something like that, and I did it. I really did it!”

  He kisses my forehead. “Yes, you did. I’m lucky I got to see it.”

  “I was pretty shocked to see you there.”

  “And I was shocked to see you wearing my shirt. It rivaled watching you play.” He smirks.

  “Really?”

  “Let’s just say that you should wear my shirts more often.”

  “You have to wear them first, though. Actually, I’ll just go grab one from the dirty pile in the living room.” I start to get up.

  Dan laughs. “Don’t you dare move,” he says, pushing me back down and throwing an arm and leg over me.

  I laugh.

  “So, no more teaching for you, huh?” he asks, playing with my hair.

  “No; like I said earlier, teaching was never for me anyway. That was one of my many discoveries.”

  Dan nods. “What other things did you discover?”

  “A lot, but mostly that I’d let others dictate my life. I suppose I should have realized that long ago, but when you grow up thinking life should be lived a certain way, it takes a lot to dispel those ideas, know what I mean? I just never trusted myself.”

  He nods. “You trust yourself n
ow?”

  “Yes, and even though I’m jobless and homeless—”

  “Wait. Homeless? I thought you moved back with your parents.”

  I sigh. “Yeah, I did, but . . . they don’t support what I’m doing right now and don’t want me at their house.”

  His eyes widen in surprise. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Claire.”

  I shrug, trying to downplay the hurt that is still so fresh. “I planned to move back with Camille and Bridget anyway,” I say awkwardly. “Anyway, my point is that it’s liberating not having any parameters. There’s nothing holding me back from pursuing what I love.”

  “Music.”

  “And you,” I say, smirking.

  He kisses me. “You don’t need to pursue me. I’m yours, my love.”

  “When you say that . . . gah!” I slap my hands to my eyes and giggle.

  “Say what?”

  I uncover my eyes. “When you call me ‘my love’—it makes me want to pounce on you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, between that and your accent and well, all of you, the ‘my love’ just makes me want to do things to you.”

  “So if I call you ‘my love,’ I’m guaranteed sex? Is that what you’re saying?” he asks with a wicked grin.

  I laugh. “No, I’m not that easy.”

  “I think maybe I should test that out—just for future reference.” He nestles in and begins nibbling at my ear, whispering, “If I get close like this . . .” Suck. Nibble. “And say, ‘I love you, my love,’ you might want to do things to me?” Nibble. Nibble. Suck. He glances at me.

  “I’m not sure,” I whisper, my heavy breathing giving me away.

  Suck. Nibble.

  “Well, if I say, ‘I need you, my love,’ does that make you want to touch me?”

  “You’d better watch it! You’re playing with fire here. I have seven weeks of pent-up horniness.”

  “Well, my love, I think I’m hornier.” He begins kissing my neck.

  “Are you challenging the level of my horniness?” I say, melting.

  “Yes, my love, I am,” he murmurs against my skin.

  “You’re going to use this against me, aren’t you?” I pant.

  “Mmm, yes, my love.” His hand slides to my breast and starts playing.

  My heart begins to beat the rhythm of the mating dance.

  “That’s it.” I climb on top of him and hold his wrists above his head. I huff in mock annoyance. “Now I’m going to have to do things to you.”

  He laughs. “Well, if that’s what you need to do, my love.”

  And with that, I pounce.

  Chapter Thirty

  Opening my eyes the next morning, I realize I’m smiling. Yes, smiling. Who smiles when they sleep? Well, evidently I do, and my cheeks hurt. I rub them carefully so as not to wake my boyfriend. Yes, my boyfriend, Mr. Beautiful. I can’t help but smile again.

  Ouch.

  I look over at Dan. He’s lying on his belly with his face turned my way and his cheek smushed up a little. His pouty, sleepy mouth is parted slightly as he breathes with a soft, easy tempo.

  I smile again. Ow.

  In quiet contentment, I stare at his peaceful, slumbering face.

  I don’t want to move, not ever, but . . . I really have to use the bathroom. Since there’s a wall on the other side of me, the only way out is over him. I slowly edge myself out from under the sheets, naked, and brr, it’s chilly without his warmth against my skin.

  I carefully climb over him and grab his shirt from the floor. Buttoning it up, I tiptoe my way to the bathroom down the hall. After using the facilities, I figure since I’m up, I’ll shower.

  As the hot water adds another layer to my contentment, all I can think is—I’m really here. He’s really here, albeit sleeping sweetly, and we’re together again. It feels like it’s all falling into place.

  I wash my hair, wondering what my next move in life will be. Oddly enough, I’m not worried like the old me would have been. I’ve somehow come to a place where I’m satisfied—deep in my soul satisfied. I’ve never felt like this before.

  Clean and refreshed, I towel off and button Dan’s shirt back up. It’s so soft and worn. I use his comb for my hair. I want to brush my teeth, too, so I head into the living room where I remember Dan putting my suitcase, but it isn’t there. Damn. I peek into his bedroom again. He’s still sleeping, and my suitcase is on the other side of the room. If I move it or unzip it, I’ll wake him. So I go back into the bathroom to search for another toothbrush, which I’m happy to find.

  Ahhh. Now all of me is clean. I really want my clothes, but since I can’t get to them yet, I’ll have to deal with wearing only Dan’s shirt, which isn’t so bad—it smells like the perfect man.

  Far too awake to climb back into bed, I figure I’ll make some coffee for us. Us. I beam.

  Last time I was here, he had a coffee pot. I scan the kitchen, spotting it behind some pizza boxes. Stacking those on the floor, I fill the pot with water and pour it into the machine. I search the cabinets and find a filter and coffee. After scooping in the right amount, I press ON, but before I can turn around, my hips are pinned against the counter. I can’t move.

  “Ahh!” I yelp and then giggle, realizing. “What are you doing?”

  “No, what are you doing? You aren’t supposed to be out of bed.” Dan wraps his arms around me and nuzzles his face into my hair.

  “I was making coffee. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You know, my love,” he says, sniffing my freshly washed hair and kissing my head. “There are house rules.”

  “House rules?” I chuckle, still pressed against the counter facing away from him. I grip onto his strong forearms where they’re crossed over my chest.

  “Yes. House rule number one—you may not leave the bed without discussing it with me first,” he says and kisses his way to my neck, warming me from the inside out.

  “Discuss it with you? I had to go to the bathroom.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You still have to run it by me. That’s why it’s a house rule.”

  “So if I have to use the bathroom, I need to let you know?”

  “Right.” He runs the tip of his nose up my neck, sending shivery tingles down my legs.

  “Did we somehow get transported back to 1950 overnight?” I giggle.

  I can feel him smile against my skin. “No, the bed got cold, and I’ve had enough of a cold bed.”

  I melt and reach up behind my head to scratch at his neck a little. “Me, too. I’m sorry.”

  He gathers my damp hair and brushes it over one shoulder, completely exposing my neck on one side. “House rule number two,” he whispers between kisses to my neck.

  “Oh boy.” I laugh.

  “House rule number two is that you are not allowed to shower without me.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I must supervise all showering and perhaps participate in it, too.”

  “Perhaps participate?”

  “That’s right.” He nuzzles me more, his face scratchy.

  “So you just want to watch me wash my body? What kind of lame house rule is that?”

  He stops nuzzling. “You’re right. House rule number two is that I assist you with the washing and the rinsing.”

  “Ooh, rinsing too? Bonus. Okay.”

  His body leans harder against mine, causing me to bend over a little further and brace myself against the countertop. As he nibbles my neck, he draws his hands down my silhouette to the hem of the shirt and back up under the shirt, sliding it up. He stops dead when he gets to my waist.

  “You don’t have anything on under this?” he says, his voice deep and rough.

  I shake my head.


  A stream of hot air rushes against my neck. I suddenly notice something hard pressing against my ass. He reaches under my arms to the buttons of the shirt and pops the top one open.

  “House rule number three . . .”

  “Another one?” I ask, snickering. “How many are there?”

  “I don’t know. Go with the flow.” He chuckles against my neck, which is relishing each of his kisses. He unbuttons another button, enough to expose one of my shoulders. He spins me around to face him but keeps me sandwiched against the counter as he captures my mouth with his.

  So much passion first thing in the morning is exhilarating! I never experienced such a thing before.

  Dan pops open two more buttons, and his hands drop to my ass over the shirt. He scoots one side of the fabric up to expose a cheek and slaps it once.

  “Ow!”

  “You have such a nice arse.” He cups both cheeks and hoists me up onto the counter, his shirtless body perfectly situated between my open legs. As his lips brush against mine, he says, “House rule number three: You must always dress like this. No exceptions.” He kisses me harder now, his tongue taking no prisoners.

  I pull back. “What if Colin stops by?”

  “He won’t be. I made a deal with him last night,” Dan says before kissing me more.

  I stop him. “A deal? What kind of deal?”

  Dan stares at my nearly unbuttoned shirt that still covers me. He licks his lips as he draws his fingers down the center of my chest. Staring at the column of my exposed skin, he says, “That if he left us alone, I’d do the karaoke version of Grease with him.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No.” Dan pushes the fabric off my shoulders, exposing my breasts. Cupping them, he says, “I don’t want any interruptions. Seven weeks was long enough of an interruption, my love. Now, shh.” He leans forward and, with his mouth, stakes claim to my breasts, sending me racing for the mountaintop at eight a.m. My head falls back, and I moan.

  I reach for the rest of my buttons and unbutton them in record time. The shirt falls completely open and slips down my arms.

  He straightens up and gawks at me a moment as I use my feet to push his pajama bottoms down to his knees, freeing his morning glory.