Matt gave me a swift smack on the ass.
We showered together and had a morning quickie, which involved Matt rubbing my clit with a soapy finger until it stung. Maybe he was depraved after all. And damn, did I enjoy it.
We took our time getting dressed. Matt watched everything I did with those smoldering green eyes of his, and when I caught him staring he didn't look away. God, he looked delicious with a towel around his hips.
I didn't think I could ever get tired of his body.
When he pulled off my towel in the living room, I bent and gripped the arm of his couch. I smiled over my shoulder at him. The hunger in his eyes thrilled and frightened me, and I yelped as he entered me all at once. His powerful thrusts slapped our bodies together. I felt his balls hitting my sex.
Like I said, we took our time getting dressed.
Finally, around noon, we got into our clothes and kept them on. Unhappiness settled over me as we stood together in the kitchen. Matt would drive me home soon, and I hadn't gotten enough of him.
I picked at his shirt. It was a soft white t-shirt that he'd paired with loose brown linen shorts. I was in my wrinkled sundress.
I had an internal debate going over whether Matt looked better in formal dress or casual dress. I also had an internal debate going over whether Matt was real. He didn't add up. Sexy well-read guy with a god's body, the cutest pet ever, ridiculous influence, lots of spare change, and an interest in me? No way.
"Happy Fourth," he said quietly, breaking into my thoughts.
"Oh, yeah. I totally forgot." I frowned and tousled my wet curls. Right, it was a Thursday and Matt wasn't working. He was here fucking me all over his apartment. Thank you America. "Yeah, happy Fourth Matt."
I smiled up at him. He grinned back at me.
"Can't imagine why you might have forgotten."
"Pfft. It's not a big deal holiday anyway. You've been weirdly aware of it, though." I squinted at him. "Maybe you're like, special ops. Or a CIA agent."
Matt smirked.
"Do I strike you as a patriot?"
"You don't strike me as anything yet."
He leaned down and his husky voice tickled my ear.
"Oh, but I do strike you Hannah."
I shivered. He pulled back. Good on him, because I was about to provoke him into bending me over the counter again.
"No, but seriously," he said, "if I seem very aware of the holiday, it's only because it'll take you away from me."
My heart fluttered. Okay, add obscenely charming to his assets.
I remembered Matt asking me if I had any plans for the Fourth. Was he worrying about this yesterday?
"Hey," I said, "crazy idea, but you mentioned you didn't have plans. Why don't you come over? My family won't care at all, and I promise they're not as crazy as my sis—"
"Yes, fine."
Matt stared at a wall.
Again, I felt that unexpected, fierce pity.
Matt had been waiting for me to ask, I realized, but he would never have imposed.
I remembered him admitting that he didn't have many friends. If I hadn't invited him, what would he do?
I pictured Matt sitting alone on his balcony.
"Matt, god." I hugged him. He lifted me off my feet and I squeaked. "You should have asked. I don't want to be apart from you, believe me."
"Hannah... there are so many things I want to tell you." He crushed me to his chest. He kissed my temple. I would have given anything for a look at his expression—why did he sound so distraught?—but my feet were dangling and my face was pressed into his neck.
We got lunch in the city. Matt stopped at a florist and bought two lily bouquets. He shoved one at me.
"Flowers," he muttered.
"I see that." I gave him a peck on the cheek. "You're so adorable. So sweet and strange. Thank you, Matt."