“I miss it.” I did. I groaned as I plunged the toy in and out of my body. I got crazy when I got close, willing to say and do anything, the maddest thoughts in my head.
“I’m close—close—want to come inside you…” Matt’s breaths grew sharp and erratic. My spine arched. I held back because it felt so damn good, and I wanted to come with Matt.
Maybe Matt was holding back, too. He kept swearing and moaning—sounds I loved—and telling me to fuck myself. “You only fuck yourself for me,” he rasped. Then, “God, I’m coming—fuck—I’m coming.”
I let myself go. My pleasure was right there waiting. A little shift in pressure, a subtle change of pace, and that incendiary ribbon of feeling unraveled in my body. How is it that this feeling never grows old? Ecstasy is strange fire.
I came down slow and smiling. Little aftershocks of pleasure tickled my limbs.
“My bird,” Matt murmured. “Baby. Did you come?”
“I did. With you.”
A gray day and drawn curtains lent a deceptive darkness to the room, but it was only one in the afternoon. I rubbed my eyes and sat up.
“Let’s talk awhile?” Matt said. The hope in his voice hurt my heart.
“Hey, of course. I’ve got nowhere to go.” I folded Matt’s bathrobe back around my body. It smelled like a freshly showered Matt hug.
“Me either.” He laughed.
“You holding up all right out there? How’s the food? How’s your leg?”
“Leg’s fine. Really, it was minor. Totally healed … you’ll see. Food’s fine, too. Stop worrying about me. I’m good. I’m writing. How was the thing?”
The thing. He meant the memorial.
“Oh, you know. Formal. I met Seth.”
“Mm.”
“You didn’t tell me he was in a band.”
“I didn’t think it was important.” In an instant, Matt’s voice went from warm and open to cold and closed. “I don’t know what your brother does.”
“Matt, my brother’s in high school.”
“Fine, he’s in high school.”
Laughter burbled out of me. I clapped a hand over my mouth, but the giggles slipped through my fingers. Oh, Matt …
“What’s so funny?”
“You. You’re adorable.”
He snorted. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing. Hey, I can’t wait to see you. Want me to bring anything special?”
“Mm … your cute little ass and a few thongs. That’ll do.”
“You’re turning into a sex-starved recluse out there, huh? Subsisting on ink and fantasies. And ramen noodles.”
“I was always a sex-starved recluse. And I’ll have you know I made SpaghettiOs today.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. God, this was killing me. Matt couldn’t cook to save his soul, and now he couldn’t eat out. Left to his own devices, he was living on Pringles, Pop-Tarts, and SpaghettiOs—I just knew it.
“I’m going to cook for you this weekend, I swear. Every meal.”
“In an apron?” he said.
“Uh, sure. In an apron.”
“Mm … my little bird in just an apron.”
Just an apron? I laughed again, shaking my head.
We talked about my job. I asked about the weather. We avoided the lawsuit, Matt’s money, and Night Owl. I also decided not to mention Aaron Snow and his online magazine, No Stone Unturned. Maybe Matt already knew about that. The cabin had dial-up, though we never used the Internet to communicate. Too easy to trace, Matt said.
Finally, around two, I pushed myself off the bed and blew out my candles.
“Plans for the evening?” Matt tried to sound upbeat.
“Nah, I’ve got nothing. I might go to yoga. There’s a class at seven.”
“Don’t forget your little bird mat.”
I grinned and rubbed my neck.
“Yeah, can’t forget the mat. I dunno if I’ll really go.”
“Make yourself go. You’ll feel better.”
I paused by the window, my hand on the curtain.
“How do you know I’m not feeling good?”