Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Discomfort pricked at the base of his spine, making him shift in his seat.
When they finished the conversation, Oliver took a bite of his food, then another. He looked Matt’s way with a small frown on his full lips. “You’re not eating your food. Does it not taste good? We can get you something else.”
Matt shook his head. “My stomach is a little upset. I think it’s all the excitement. I’ll be fine.”
Oliver didn’t reply, and he didn’t look away. Matt had to be the one to break the eye contact first.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Matt’s body trembled from the inside out—the epicenter a burst of energy and passion that he thought he’d combust trying to contain. Tears danced at the end of his eyelashes, but he was too engrossed in the scene in front of him, in the music floating through him to take the time to brush them away. Music was love and desire and happiness—everything beautiful in the world. That was the way it made him feel.
In that moment, as he watched the composer direct musicians, as he listened to passion flow from every instrument, he felt almost whole. It wasn’t often he felt that way. Without taking his eyes away from the scene in front of him, he let his hand drift over to Oliver who sat beside him. He threaded their fingers together, needing some kind of contact with his best friend. With Oliver.
He squeezed Matt’s hand and held it while they listened. It felt like only seconds had passed by when the symphony ended. People moved around them, got out of their seats and talked about how beautiful the night had been, but Matt still couldn’t move. He heard Oliver tell his parents they would be a few moments and his parents saying they would talk to them another day.
Oliver continued to hold Matt’s hand and he let him. Minutes passed by. The space around them completely emptied out. Oliver didn’t speak, didn’t even shift, just gave Matt the time he needed.
“Thank you,” he finally managed to say.
“You have nothing to thank me for,” Oliver told him, but he did. Matt felt like he could never thank Oliver enough for everything he had given him. He didn’t know where to start. He felt too raw, like everything inside of him was on display for the world to see. It was always so damn hard to understand his own emotions—how he could appreciate the things Oliver did but then other times, they made him feel incapable of doing things for himself. How sometimes he could want to pull Oliver closer but others he needed to push him away.
“Will you take me home now?” Matt asked.
“Yeah…yeah, of course. Come on. Let’s go.” Oliver stood and led the way out, still holding onto Matt’s hand.
It was strange, how he didn’t remember getting home, but the next thing he knew they were walking into Oliver’s house and he was asking, “Can I go to your room with you?” There was no weight to his voice, no meat to it, just bare bones, honest and raw.
“As long as you’re going because that’s where you want to be, even if it’s only for tonight and not because you feel like you owe me something.”
“Come on, Ollie. You know me better than that. There are a lot of promises I can’t make you—I don’t know what this means, or why I need it, but I’ve always been a selfish bastard. I’m not having sex with you because I owe you something; I’m having sex with you because I want to. Because I need you, and that’s not easy for me to admit.”
Oliver gave him a slow nod, and the two men made their way up the stairs. The earthquake inside of Matt hadn’t subsided. It was as if the reason transitioned from music to Oliver.
He was surprised when Oliver went straight for the bathroom. When he turned on the water in his glass-enclosed shower.
Oliver’s fingers went to Matt’s tie, but Matt stopped him. “No…let me take care of you. You’re always the one taking care of me.”
A haze bled into Oliver’s eyes, but he gave a quick nod, and then Matt got to work. He pulled the tie loose, pushed the jacket off Oliver’s shoulders. From there he slowly worked each of the buttons on his shirt. As he revealed Oliver’s skin, he leaned forward, kissing his way down Oliver’s chest, twirling his tongue around each nipple, nibbling at his collarbone.
“Oh, fuck,” rasped past Oliver’s lips as he dropped his head back. Matt paid more attention to Oliver’s throat, licking and sucking on his salty flesh until Oliver’s shirt was completely open, and he could drop that to the floor next.
Matt’s jacket and tie went right after, followed by his shirt. He lowered down to his knees, lifted Oliver’s foot—first one and then the other, removing his shoes.