Giselle and Jared shot each other a look of confusion as she asked, “And we’d still get paid?”
“Of course.” Matt nodded, his hand sliding from my shoulder to my arm, his big hand warm on my bare skin.
Jared glanced at me, asking softly, “Are you sure that’s the experience you want, Marie?”
“He just said it’s what they want,” Giselle snapped. “You just want to cuddle with her,” she added in a harsh whisper.
I winced, realizing I would get nowhere with these two. Evidently, they were dating, or involved, or something. And also evident, they had some major jealousy issues to work through. I wasn’t going to get an authentic cuddle experience either way. But at least with Matt as my cuddle partner, I didn’t have to worry about Giselle stabbing me in the middle of the session.
Plus, per Matt’s anti-relationship tirade just moments ago, I was fairly certain his interest in cuddling was purely academic.
“It’s what I want,” I rushed to declare, hoping to cut off a rekindling of Jared and Giselle’s tiff, my arm lifting to wrap around Matt’s torso. “As long as one, or both of you can guide us through it.”
9
Siri
Works as an intelligent personal assistant and knowledge navigator, part of Apple Inc.'s iOS, watchOS, macOS, and tvOS operating systems.
Source: Apple Computers, Siri
I changed into the shorts and tank top I’d brought for the cuddle session, then met Matt and Jared in one of the rooms I’d spied earlier. It looked like a nondescript bedroom, with a double bed in the middle of the space and a single side table. A solitary candle in a glass holder was burning, and provided the only source of light in the room other than the window.
“Marie.” Jared made a bow to me, his expression open and friendly. “I’ve arranged your partner on the bed. He’s ready for you.”
“My body is ready,” Matt called from his position.
I peeked around the man who would be our cuddle instructor to find Matt lying on one side of the bed, facing the door, a droll expression on his handsome face. I blinked once, slowly, mentally preparing myself for what was to come and reminding myself this was all in the name of journalism.
Taking a deep breath, I approached the bed. “Should I just mirror him?”
“That’s right.” Jared waited until I lay on the bed, facing Matt, before he gave further instruction. “Okay, now I want you two to tangle your legs together, with Matt’s staying on the mattress, one of Marie’s between Matt’s legs, and Matt’s upper leg between hers. That’s right. And Marie, lay your head on Matt’s forearm. That’s it. Marie, try putting your hand flat against Matt’s stomach, to create a connection, but over his shirt. Unless, that is, you’re both comfortable with skin-to-skin touch.”
“Over the shirt is fine,” I said, and Matt nodded his agreement. No need for things to get too personal.
We did as instructed while Jared launched into a monologue.
I tried to pay attention, but I was beyond distracted by the solid wall of maleness in front of me. And his leg between my legs. And his ridged abdominal muscles beneath my fingertips.
Men who were perpetual kids never made it on my radar. Up until now, Professor Simmons had come across as a big kid—specifically his tendencies to be oblivious, blunt, and stubborn. Yeah, he was handsome, funny, terrifyingly brilliant, but I hadn’t been particularly attracted to his personality.
But now, being this close, he felt . . . hot. And bigger. Stronger. Imposing. Manly. I caught myself swallowing nothing as I had no saliva left in my mouth.
He might’ve acted like a big kid, but he didn’t feel like one.
“As a general rule, a cuddler and a cuddlee should never touch each other in the bathing-suit zones. No touching the front of the chest, the buttocks, or the pelvis. Basically, anywhere a two-piece covers on a woman or a bathing suit covers on a man.”
A subtle yet sly smile settled over Matt’s features, his brown eyes dancing as though thinking of a secret joke.
“What?” I whispered, suspicious, still fighting my flare of hormones.
Or, more precisely, whoremones.
That’s what I called my hormones when they betrayed my good sense. Sandra said I was slut-shaming my body’s appreciation for the opposite sex. I told her I was okay with that if it meant I remained free of STDs.
Matt inclined his head forward so that our noses were almost touching. His breath smelled like peppermint—not overpowering, just enough to betray that he’d snuck a mint—and he whispered, “I wear Speedos when I swim.”
I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t laugh, but ended up laughing silently anyway as he resettled back into his original position. Trying not to laugh was becoming a habit around him.
And thank goodness for his joke, because it helped dispel my sudden case of sexy-nerves. Physically, I was beginning to see him as just too ridiculously attractive. Good thing he told you he’s allergic to commitment, otherwise you might do something whoremone-y.
I could do this. I could snuggle with Matt’s large, powerful, hard body and remain focused on documenting the experience for my story. Focus on the story.
My mind began to settle.
Meanwhile, Matt gave into his grin, his eyes dropping to my mouth. He had a really nice smile. I liked it when he smiled, how his eyes lit up with inner brilliance and tangible enjoyment.
“Now don’t be alarmed if one or both of you experience arousal,” Jared continued evenly. “That’s not abnormal, but it doesn’t happen every time. If it does happen, feel free to call for a break. Either of you can end the session at any time. Cuddling must be, at all times, purely platonic . . . ”
Matt’s smile dwindled by degrees and the mischief dimmed, replaced with something else. I decided it was sobriety. Then growing distance. And then, eventually, careful detachment.
Gathering a deep breath, his dispassionate gaze moved over my shoulder, and he stared at the wall behind me. I considered him, his sudden mood shift, while trying to listen to Jared’s instruction.
“Eye contact can be important in this position, but isn’t necessary. Don’t be afraid to move your hands, stroking your partner with an open palm if he or she finds it comforting. You can do it on the arm or leg, over the shoulder, down the back. Petting can be very comforting.”
Matt’s jaw flexed. His eyes still affixed to some spot behind me.
“Fingers in the hair, massaging the scalp or threading in the hair itself, is a technique we use. Matt.”
Matt flinched, frowning, his eyes darting up to Jared. “Yes?”
“Try playing with Marie’s hair.”
Matt didn’t immediately move. In fact, he held perfectly still, but I could feel the tension in his stomach muscles beneath his shirt. Eventually, he cleared his throat and swallowed, and his eyes cut to mine. His expression still distant.
I twisted my lips to the side. “Don’t worry, I washed my hair . . .”