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Matt's calloused hand finds mine before leading me halfway across the parking lot to his yellow Jeep Wrangler. My heart bounds and leaps in my chest from the warmth of his fingers wrapped around mine.
He opens the door for me, offers to take my bag while I climb in.
I step up into the cab, turn to face him, our lips just a few inches apart. He swallows thickly before handing me my stuff. Our fingertips graze and I feel the slow, smoldering build-up as his touch lingers on my skin. Like a dam threatening to break loose, flood the acres below it. Or dark thunderous storm clouds preparing to burst with precipitation over thirsty ground.
Oh my god.
This is actually happening.
Matt closes the door, shuts me in with the tension.
A few charged moments pass before Matt jumps in and closes the driver's side door behind him. He turns on the engine, fiddles with a keychain.
The white snowflakes sticking to the windows hide us from view. A thick curtain shutting out the world.
When I peer over to the driver's seat, Matt's left wrist rests on the steering wheel and he slides his right arm behind the headrest on my seat, angling his whole body towards me.
"Take it off," he demands. I hate how sexy his voice sounds as he's telling me to strip.
I anxiously bite my lower lip, feeling self-conscious. "What if the defrost melts the snow on the windows. I don't want anyone to...see me."
Matt laughs lightly. "You better hurry up then."
Seriously? No sympathy?
I'll remember this.
"Fine," I reluctantly give in. I reach for the bottom of my tan sweater and lift it over my head.
Matt's eyes darken as he watches me comfortably from the driver's seat. I close my eyes as I reach behind to unclasp my bra.
"Wait," Matt says, resting his hand on my leg, burning my skin through my jeans.
I open my eyes. His left wrist is now hooked around the steering wheel column, and he looks so effortlessly gorgeous it makes my heart clench.
"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," he offers. "But if you don't, you owe me. Big time."
"I don't chicken out," I respond, my voice coming out raspier than usual.
I keep my eyes trained on his brown ones. They're filled with something that strangely resembles longing, maybe yearning. I slide the straps down my shoulders and let the material fall away, completely exposing myself to my best friend. The guy I'm madly, ridiculously in love with.
Matt's eyes leave mine as they trail down my neck, my collar bone and, finally, land on my breasts. My pink nipples jut out, uncomfortably hard from the bitter cold inside the Jeep. The engine isn't warm enough yet to blow hot air through the vents meaning we’re stuck with the frigid temperature.
He licks his lips, meets my frozen gaze. "Can I?"
I exhale sharply. "Yeah, you can touch them."
A deal's a deal, right?
He rests his hands on my shoulders, his eyes flickering from my face to my chest. I can tell he's nervous. What I can't tell if it's from the excitement of touching boobs in general or if it's the fact that he's touching my boobs.
His fingers skim over my shoulders, then gently over my chest before they slide down the tops of my breasts and circle my hard nipples, sending a delicious shiver all over my body. His hands caress and play and fondle. I can hardly contain the fire coursing through my veins as he touches me. He's actually touching me. It feels nice, I guess. His touch isn't rough or harsh. It's warm, maybe even a little sloppy, rushed, clumsy.
"Jen," Matt's voice is hoarse, "I..."
His eyes flicker with a string of emotions as his hands leave my breasts to cup my face. He leans forward, gives me a nervous smile.
I just...he's the first person I've ever truly been vulnerable with, and I would never do this with anyone else. Not a soul. I trust him completely.
