by KD Fisher
“Buon Natale, Matt!” She waved at me from the small screen. I lifted my hand in a greeting, feeling surprised at my own nervousness. “So you are Mikah’s new boyfriend? Very handsome.”
Mikah waved his hands frantically. “Nonna!” He shot me an apologetic glance over his shoulder.
My heart raced at her use of the word. Imagining Mikah as my boyfriend, sharing meals, waking up in bed with him in my arms, building a life together, flooded me with warm, bright joy.
“Has Mikah played the piano for you?” Her question lifted my attention from the screen to the upright piano tucked in the corner. The top was decorated with framed photos and potted plants. I’d noticed the instrument earlier, but I’d been more interested in the pictures: the three siblings posing goofily on a beach, Luca looking serious in a cap and gown, Elena beaming next to what looked like a homemade robot, teenage Mikah scowling in field full of sunflowers.
“No, ma’am.” I massaged Mikah’s shoulders, trying to signal that he didn’t have to play if he didn’t want to. His family, though, had other ideas.
“Yes, I love it!” Naomi, who was standing next to me, spoke for the first time since the start of the call. “Please, Mikah, play something. I’ve never heard you either.”
“Do the ‘Waltz of the Flowers.’ We missed The Nutcracker this year. And I heard the NYC Ballet has been killing it since Asha Shadid took over as director.” Elena was bouncing in her seat at the idea. “For God’s sake, Mikah, we’re culture starved out here in the Wild West.”
Mikah grumbled but rose to his feet, shuffling over to take a seat on the small piano bench. His father followed him, holding up the laptop so his grandmother could watch. Something in Mikah transformed as he aligned his slim fingers on the black and white keys. His focus intensified, like everything else in the room melted away. Then he started to play, each motion precise and measured as he filled the room with beauty. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, his plush lips pressed into a firm line, his straight eyebrows pushed together. He was playing from memory, as if the notes were flowing directly from his mind to the piano. Too soon, Mikah finished, pushing his hair back and shooting me a shy smile. Then he was in my arms, and I realized I’d pulled him into a tight hug there in front of his entire family to see.
I pressed my mouth to his ear, my voice dry and brittle as sandpaper as I thanked him in a low whisper. The same bright warmth flushed through my chest. He’d given me so much tonight, I wasn’t quite sure what I was thanking him for.
Chapter Seven
Mikah
I’VE always loved the sound of snow crunching underfoot. When I lived in Cambridge, sometimes I would get up early after a big nor’easter and tromp out into the cold-quiet streets. Walking alone I’d relished the squeaks and cracks of ice and snow sliding off branches and settling onto the ground. I would watch the poststorm clouds churning in the sky, softly outlined in gold as the sun made its ascent. The cold out here was different, sharper and cleaner, glinting like a knife. The wind exhaled a swirl of snow, and I pulled my jacket close around my body. Luca’s coat was way too big to wear, so I was suffering in my flimsy denim jacket. Next to me, Matt was quiet save for his heavy footfalls. He hadn’t said anything when I suggested we go for a walk, just gave me one of his quiet nods and went to retrieve his coat.
I pulled in breaths of cold, dry air, savoring its snap at the back of my throat before exhaling clouds of steam. Idly I wondered why that was always so satisfying. When I looked up, the sky was clear and awash with stars, so many it looked almost dusty.
“Is that the Milky Way?” I asked Matt, gesturing upward.
“Yup.” Another silent nod. “You can see the northern lights sometimes too.”
We’d walked halfway around the pond, a good distance away from the house. My eyes had adjusted to the dark, taking in the white glow of the moon against the snow. Why was Matt being so quiet? Had my family overwhelmed him with their interrogations and boyfriend talk? Did he want to leave? Maybe it was better if he did. If he wasn’t into me, I’d rather find out now instead of after I’d already made a fool of myself. Now that we were outdoors, he seemed calmer but still thoughtful, hands stuffed into the pockets of his work coat, eyes cast upward at the night sky.
“Sorry if my family was a little intense,” I mumbled, feeling a bit like I was interrupting his thinking.
Matt stopped walking. “I liked them,” he said after a long moment of looking at me. “I liked them a lot.” Something shifted in his expression then, going from pensive to relaxed. “All the Italian was a little intimidating, and they’re definitely pretty… sophisticated.”
I chuckled. “I guess so. I told my dad to stick to English, but he forgets when he’s home.”
Matt just shrugged, no big deal. He was still staring at me. I wanted to close the distance between us, but it seemed like he still had something to say. So I waited.
Finally, when he asked the question, it surprised me. “Why do you like me?” Matt’s eyes immediately snapped from my face back up to the stars, as if he was preemptively nervous about my response and couldn’t watch while I said something that might hurt him.
I reached for his face, cupping his cold cheek gently and pulling his attention back to me. That seemed to make him happy, his lips twitching up at the corners. Mine followed suit. Everything about Matt was wholesome, like biting into an oven-warm slice of bread, hearty and good and nourishing. His earnestness deserved an honest response, not my reflex default to sarcasm in the face of scary emotions.
“Well, for one you’re insanely hot,” I teased. Shit. It came out too flippant, and Matt’s expression shuttered. I hurried on, stumbling hard over my words. “And you… you make me feel calm, I guess. Like it’s actually kind of wild. I mean, I can be kind of, I don’t know, uptight sometimes. But I just really like being with you.” My face was probably glowing in the dark, it was so hot.
Matt drew me to him, wrapping me up in his unzipped coat as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. When he spoke, his words were muffled by my hair. “So you’re not, uh, slumming it with me or something?” The note of apprehension in his voice broke my heart.
My head snapped up so fast my neck cracked. “No!” I was horrified by the notion that Matt had even worried about that. My panic pushed a tangle of words out of me. “Not at all. Shit. I’m so sorry if I did anything to make you feel like that….” I dragged a hand over my face. This was so hard to talk about. “I like spending time with you because you’re sweet and weirdly funny even though you barely talk. And like I said, you just have this crazy soothing presence, which, okay, sounds way too fucking new-agey. Anyway, no. I’m not trying to like, get my rocks off with the hot farmer dude and then bail.” Great. My voice was breaking, and I had officially fallen into a spiral of panicked rambling.
Matt’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “You’re cute, Mikah.” He brushed his lips over mine and everything uncoiled. His calming effect was immediate. He was so comfortable in his own body that he made me comfortable in mine by association. I almost wanted to lean back and say see, you’re doing it right now. But then Matt’s big hands cupped my neck, pulling me up to him, closer. The wind gusted around us, and I shivered with a mix of pleasure and cold. Matt’s body was welcoming and solid, and all I wanted was to twine us so tightly together we could never be unwound.
“Will you stay?” I asked, breathing heavy against his mouth. His slow, easy smile warmed me through.
MY room, like the rest of the house, was chilly and quiet. It seemed everyone had drifted off to bed while Matt and I were out walking. Already I was fuzzy with arousal, clumsy as I pulled off my boots and too loud as I shut and locked my bedroom door.
“You’re shivering.” Matt rubbed my arms. “Want me to build a fire?”
Instinctively I wanted to argue that I could do it myself, but I paused. I liked that he wanted to do it. I liked his gentle concern and down-to-earth helpfulness. Matt lit the fire with quick,
sure movements, the flames painting the room in a soft, flickering glow. In the firelight his hair was almost golden, the blue of his eyes deeper. Not wanting to stare at him, I glanced into the growing flames. Unbidden, I remembered burning Josh’s letter, erasing the last vestige of my hurt in very spot where Matt was kneeling. A sharp realization pinged through me—as much as I’d been desperate to build something real with Josh, I’d never felt for him in three years what I felt for Matt after the one month we’d spent together.
“Come here,” he requested, his words drawing me to him like his arms would. I eased myself down to sit across from him in front of the fire, knees touching as if we were kids ready to swap secrets. Then his arms did come around me, pulling me easily into his lap.
I wanted to know his body. So much of him was hard and rough, callused hands and wind-burned cheeks, but I wanted to find the places where he was soft, to trace the thin, pale skin behind his ears with my tongue. I wanted to understand his steady, rhythmic calm, to take it into me. Sliding my hands under the fabric of his shirt, I touched the planes of his work-honed muscles. I liked Matt’s body, its thickness and heft. And I wanted it all around me, pressing me down and filling me.
“That feels good,” Matt breathed. He kissed me gently, brushing his lips over mine. A kiss so tender, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I’d thought too much over the past month about sex with Matt, but now that fantasy was becoming reality, I was overwhelmed by my need for him. I buried my face into his neck, breathing his pine smell and the smoke of the fire, and the faintest hint of the cinnamon he’d stirred into his coffee. I must have mumbled something about him smelling good because he chuckled, the sound rumbling low in his chest.
“Had to cut a few trees this morning before we closed. The smell sticks to you. The sap.”
“Mmm. I like it,” I murmured and ran my tongue up the cord of his neck. Matt moaned. His hands went to my hips and squeezed.
“Mikah.” Matt’s voice was husky as I dotted kisses along the sharp line of his jaw. I liked the sound of my name in his mouth. “You’re driving me crazy. I want you so much.”
Angling my face to his, I connected our lips, opening him and sliding my tongue inside. Hot desire burned down my spine, leaving me panting and loose-limbed. I wanted Matt in my bed, but I didn’t want our bodies to separate for even a fraction of a second. Happily, Matt solved this problem by scooping me up and rising to his feet in a motion so smooth I was forced to pull my mouth away to murmur my admiration. Wrapping my legs around him, I pushed my fingers into his close-cropped hair. The strands were thick and coarse. I didn’t stop kissing him as he navigated the short distance to the bed. For a while—it could have been minutes or much longer—we kissed and ground together restlessly. His weight on top of me was everything I needed. I was throbbing for him, and I scrabbled at the button of my jeans. Matt eased off of me, eyes blazing and intent on my face.
“What do you like?” he asked, lifting my hand to press a kiss to the inside of my wrist. I wondered if he could feel my pulse racing there.
“You,” I said without thinking, immediately embarrassed by my sappy admission. But Matt’s blush and smile made me happy. My words, I realized, were a gift. They had the power to soothe such a steady, solid man.
“I like you too. A lot.” He murmured the last two words so quietly I almost missed them. Matt kissed me hard and fast. “But do you, you know, normally top or bottom?”
“Both. I mean either way’s good for me. Whatever.” I didn’t know where my sudden burst of discomfort was coming from. It certainly wasn’t the first time I’d had this particular conversation.
Matt cupped my cheek and kissed me again so softly and sweetly, something deep inside me unraveled. “I’m flexible too. But I want to know what you want.” He didn’t seem at all uncomfortable, just waited patiently for my response.
“I want you to….” I stared down at the embroidery on the white duvet. I’d known what I wanted from the moment his thumb had brushed my lips in his cabin. “I want you to fuck me.” As I spoke my desire aloud, heat curled in my belly, seeping into my thighs, leaving me achy with need. I wanted Matt everywhere.
“Okay,” he said simply, sifting his fingers through my hair and pushing it back from my face.
I was grateful my fingers didn’t tremble as I reached to undo the buttons on Matt’s green flannel shirt. Underneath he wore a gray henley, and my mouth went dry at the sight of him tugging it over his head. He was powerfully muscled. His was the kind of body produced by manual labor. I loved the dusting of golden hair on his chest, so I kissed it, savoring the intimacy of warm skin under my lips. Dragging my mouth lower to Matt’s tight stomach, I fumbled with the oversized buckle of his cowboyish leather belt. Of course he wore belts like this.
“Mikah….”
I shivered with delight when he said my name. “Uh-huh.” I paused my motion and lifted my gaze to him but kept my face level with his crotch. I was breathing hard, desperate for him.
“I want to see you too.” Matt tugged at the hem of my sweater.
Right. I was still fully dressed. I’d been so focused on getting Matt naked, I’d forgotten myself. With none of his suave, I yanked my sweater over my head and shimmied out of my jeans and underwear.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he said softly.
My heart leaped to my throat, and I resumed my mission to map every inch of his skin. When my fingers curled around his length, Matt made a needy whimper low in his throat. I bent to take him fully into my mouth, gripping his thick thighs to steady myself. Glancing up, I saw his eyes drift shut, head tipping up as I moved my mouth lower. The taste of him, salty and clean, sent hot sparks of pleasure over my skin.
“Oh, fuck. Baby, that’s so good.” Matt’s voice was raw. My eyes burned at the term of endearment. Before I could keep going, though, he lay down on his back. I sat back on my heels for a minute, admiring his hard body and soft eyes. Then he pulled me down to lie on top of him and gripped my body hard with both hands. Our erections rubbed together, and I almost sobbed with the satiating thrill of contact.
“Please,” I begged, unsure of what I was even asking for. Matt put two fingers to my lips, but it wasn’t to quiet me. He slipped into my mouth, and I swirled my tongue to wet them. His cock twitched against mine, and he groaned. Then one finger was at my entrance, touching me gently.
“This okay?” Matt asked, his body completely still as he waited for my response.
“Yes. Please. Fuck.” It was difficult to speak when my throat was burning with desire.
He sank into me, and we both moaned as I clenched around his finger. Shivery pleasure built within me as he slid a second finger inside. But I needed more. I was suddenly grateful that this morning I’d sheepishly tucked lube and some condoms into the drawer of my nightstand. I never wanted Matt to leave my bed.
“Matt, please. Now.” I kissed him again for good measure and gestured to the small pine cabinet. Slowly he eased out of me and made quick work of locating the drugstore bag. I watched him, breath held, as he rolled the condom onto his thick length and slicked himself up with lube. Everything about him turned me on: the heat of his gaze, the sureness of his movements, the surprising tenderness of his kisses. My thighs tightened as he easily moved me so I was lying on my back, and draped his larger body over mine. I loved the simultaneous roughness and care of his touch.
Everything narrowed to the sensation of his mouth claiming me: ragged breaths, the taste of his skin, the thrill that shimmered down my body as his tongue slid against mine. Matt’s strong fingers gripped my knees, pushing them back and opening me to him. I gasped at the hot spark of pleasure-pain as he eased into me, and whimpered at the fullness as Matt started to thrust. I felt so satisfied, I could barely think, much less breathe. As he moved faster, I was lost in the gratification of his heat inside me, brushing again and again over the spot that made me squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip to keep from crying out. I reached for my own erecti
on, but Matt linked his fingers with mine, pressing my hand down to the bed as he continued to drive into me. Skin slapped against skin, and he growled as I constricted around his length.
When he started stroking me, each movement somehow perfectly coordinated with his smooth thrusts, I realized I could no longer control my whimpers and pleas. I lifted my lips to his, and he grunted as our mouths connected.
“God, Mikah,” Matt exhaled into my mouth. His grip tightened, and my hips surged up. A delicious, slick tension built deep inside, consuming me. All I could do was arch toward his touch, every cord of muscle in my body pulled tight. Then everything was liquid heat, detonating in my core and radiating through me. I was begging, delirious as I came. Spilling between us, grasping at Matt desperately, I tried to pull him as close as possible. Matt’s arms snaked under me, pressing my chest flush against his. Surging once, hard, he came with a low, coarse moan.
I was wrung out and boneless, eyes still squeezed shut from my orgasm. When I squinted them open, Matt was there, staring down at me with such fondness that my eyes filled and my vision clouded. This intimacy overwhelmed me. Matt was rearranging the cells in my body. Every thin layers I’d wrapped around myself fell away in the soft warmth of his presence.
“Hey,” Matt whispered, rubbing his thumb over my lips, “was that okay?”
I cleared my throat, knowing that my voice would be all weird and broken. “Um, yes. Why are you so good at sex?” I was glad I sounded teasing, instead of like I was going to dissolve into tears.