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“Um, yeah, I think so.” I turned to face him as I dried my hands on a fresh towel. “Can’t say I’ve seen it recently.”
Matty was still sitting on the edge of the tub as he launched into his story.
“There’s a scene where Belle tries to escape the Beast, because, you know, she hates him and because he doesn’t know how to hold a spoon. She leaves the castle but almost immediately she’s surrounded by all these hungry wolves who are like, Yum, tasty snack. It’s the middle of winter. They start attacking her but the Beast arrives in the nick of time to save her, but he earns a few nasty wolf bites as a result. He passes out or whatever, and somehow little ol’ Belle loads him on Philippe’s back.” Matty paused. “Philippe’s the horse, by the way.”
“I gathered as much,” I said with a wry grin.
Matty was animated when he told stories. I didn’t want him to stop. It kinda melted my heart.
“Anyway,” Matty continued, “when they get back to the castle, she patches him up. They do some bickering, which my mom called ‘foreplay,’ which I think checks out. As Belle cleans his wounds, she thanks the Beast for saving her life, and they become friends before falling in love at the end. It was my mom’s favorite film,” he said by way of explanation. “That’s why I remember it pretty well.” Matty rubbed the back of his neck. He cleared his throat. “So, yeah, that’s why I laughed. You patching me up reminded me of that particular scene.”
It took me a second to realize that Matty had told me something deeply personal and important about his relationship with his mom.
I wanted to ask about the “falling in love” part of his story, but I didn’t want to rush things.
“I have a few memories like that with my dad,” I said instead. “Mostly fuzzy memories of watching him put together model airplanes.”
“I’m sorry he passed away but I’m glad you have memories of him.”
“Thanks.”
Matty smiled, stood, and inspected my medical handiwork in the mirror. “You’re pretty good at fixing me up. First the KT Tape and now this.”
Turning, he leaned against the counter beside me, his gaze heated.
His fingers brushed mine on the counter and my heart thumped.
“I have a serious question,” I said. “Between the two of us, who is the Beauty and who is the Beast?”
I meant it as a light, teasing question but Matty didn’t even hesitate when he answered, “I’m definitely the Beast, Ciaran.” He stepped in front of me, his lips hovering inches away. “The things I want to do to you are downright beastly.”
“Oh.” I let out a soft moan. My eyes fluttered closed just as his lips found mine. The kiss was gentle, probing, remembering. He pressed himself against me and I felt the hard length of him through my jeans. “Does kissing hurt your lip?” I asked.
“A little,” Matty admitted as he slanted his head to deepen the kiss, his stubble scratching my skin. He nibbled my lower lip. “But it hurts worse not to kiss you.”
Matty clearly had a way with words.
“I can’t argue with you there.”
“Is this okay?” he asked, his hips rocking into mine. The friction was divine and my balls tightened, aching to be touched.
I nodded. “More than okay.” I might pass out, actually.
Matty’s hands skimmed up my back to my neck, then down the front of my chest. Then his fingers were at the hem of my shirt. “Can I remove your shirt?”
“Yes,” I breathed out in response because I wasn’t sure I was capable of stringing together multiple words.
Matty pulled away only long enough to remove my shirt, as well as his own, before crashing back into me. Skin on skin, his lips, tongue, and teeth lashed at my mouth, my throat. My knees were threatening to buckle.
My fingernails scraped his lower back, pulling him even closer, and he moaned in my ear. “God, I love it when you do that. It’s so possessive.”
A quick sliver of confusion sparkled in my brain. A hazy memory came to me. I’d done this before, but when?
The question fled my mind the moment when Matty’s thumb flicked over one of my pebbled nipples. I cried out in unexpected pleasure.
“Fuck that feels amazing.”
There was a throbbing ache everywhere…a deep, profound need within me that I could not articulate with words. It wasn’t just in my groin. My fingertips tingled, my ears rang, my vision blurred. Butterflies invaded my stomach while my heart skipped multiple beats.
