Page 85 of Matlock
“Not. Yet.”
But his voice was rough, strained. He wanted this too.
We pulled into my driveway, and Tony turned off the engine. For a moment, neither of us moved. And then I was reaching for him, my hand on his thigh, my breath coming fast. “Simon—”
“I need you,” I said, my voice breaking. “I need you right now.”
Tony’s eyes closed. And then he was moving. He was out of the vehicle, around to my side, pulling open the door. His hands were on me, and I could feel the restraint he was exercising. The careful way he was holding back everything he wanted to do to me now that we were finally, finally alone.
We walked to the front door, and I fumbled with my keys, my hands shaking so badly I could barely get the damn thing in the lock. Tony stood behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat of him, but he didn’t touch me. His jaw was clenched. His breathing was controlled.
“Easy,” he said quietly, his voice tight with the effort of holding back.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
And the moment we crossed the threshold, the moment thedoor slammed shut behind us, everything changed.
My control shattered.
I turned around, my hands gripping his face, and my mouth was on his, desperate and consuming. All the restraint from the drive and the walk suddenly unleashed. He spun us around and his body pressed me against the closed door. I gasped into his kiss as his hands moved down my sides, pulling me closer, claiming me now that we were home.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Matlock
I couldn’t fucking breathe.
Something was different about him tonight. His hands were frantic, almost desperate, clawing at me as if he were trying to crawl inside my skin. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling with an urgency I’d felt from him before, but never quite like this. Rawer. More desperate. Like he was drowning, and I was the only thing keeping him afloat.
Simon had been pulling away from me in small, deliberate ways. Maintaining a careful distance when he passed me in the house, as if he were afraid of giving in if I got too close. I told myself it was the stress of the trial, the weight of everything pressing down on him, but I knew better.
He was protecting himself.
Building walls. Creating space between us as if he were preparing to let me go. As if he’d finally had enough of my bullshit. But today something had shifted. I didn’t know what, but something had broken loose. Something had changed.
And I didn’t fucking care.
Whatever he was offering right now, whatever this was, I was taking it. I wasn’t going to question it. Wasn’t going to give him time to think, to second-guess, to withdraw. If I asked, he might remember all the reasons we shouldn’t be doing this.
He might reconsider.
He might remember.
That he wasn’t mine, not really.
But he’ll always be mine.
I spun us around, pressed him against the door, and kissed him as if I were starving. Like I’d been holding my breathunderwater, and he was the air I needed to live. My tongue pushed into his mouth, claiming, tasting, and he opened for me immediately, gasping, yielding, his hands fisting in my shirt as he pulled me closer.
God, he tasted good. Like coffee and desperation, and...Simon.
I pressed him harder against the door, my body covering his, my cock already hard and aching as I ground against him. He moaned into my mouth, and the sound went straight to my cock.
“Fuck,” I growled against his lips. “Fuck, Simon.”
“Tony...” His voice was breathless, needy, and his hands were everywhere: my chest, my shoulders, sliding down to grip my ass and pull me tighter against him.
