Piece by Piece

Chapter 2

Aliena

There are no fireworks. No world-changing enlightenment as Mattheo kisses me. Still, my body reacts to the physical contact in a pleasant way. My skin tingles, my lower stomach warms, and at the soft caress of his thumb, my legs become weak.

I've been kissed at parties by many but oh so few know how to do it right. They grab my butt and grind against me, anything to take off the edge they're feeling. They're unaware of how they make me stop feeling like a person rather than a means to an end. It's unsatisfying.

Kissing Mattheo isn't. One of his hands stays on my cheek while his other arm snakes around my back to hold me close. He envelops me and as he does it, he manages to shut out the rest of the party. The rest of the world.

Just with a kiss.

I bring my hands into his hair and angle his face to deepen the moment. I want him closer. Need him to show me more.

Instead, Mattheo pulls away. "Amo, either take it slow or let me take you upstairs. People at Hartford University talk and while I don't particularly mind, I like the idea of being the only one here that knows how your moans sound. And you seem just a moment away from doing that." Oh, that infuriating smile. I should've kissed it off his face sooner.

"Take me upstairs," I tell him. The second floor consists of the VIP lounge, Sebastian's bedroom, and some other rooms that only a selected few are allowed to use or stay in. Those selected few are Andrew, Mattheo, Lilianne, and me, by default.

Mattheo takes my hand and walks ahead until we reach the stairs. There, I take the lead until we are in the room I mostly stay in. The door shuts and locks behind Mattheo, the automatic low lights embedded in the ceiling turning on to cast an intimate glow over us.

The grin is no longer on my friend's face now. Instead, he is watching me hungrily as he takes measured steps toward me. He cups my face with two big hands. "You are sure about this, Amo? We are on the same page?"

"A casual, mutually beneficial one-night stand between friends that have chemistry. I don't get shit mixed up, Mattheo. Do you?" I challenge him, bringing my hands to his shoulders.

Now he's grinning again, shaking his head like he can't believe me. "I don't, Seduttrice."

Before he can keep talking, I stand on the tips of my toes and pull him down the rest of the way so I can kiss him again. My shoes elevate me a few inches, but the man still has to lean down. He seems to notice the inconvenience and decides to take matters into his own hands, bringing them to the backs of my thighs and picking me up easily. I go along with it and lock my legs around his slender hips.

Thank god for years of his swimming practice. His body feels lethal under my touch. He's solid muscle but not in a threatening way. Not like a certain man who owns the apartment. No, Mattheo is lean and defined in a delicious way. I've been to enough of his tournaments to know exactly what he looks like. Now it's time to learn how he feels.

I grab the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head. As soon as the fabric's gone, he tries to bring his lips back to mine but I pull away. "Give me a second. I've been dreaming about this," I tell him. Then carefully move my fingers from his shoulder down over his pecks. He flexes beneath my touch, and I give him a look. "Really?"

He just shrugs cheekily so I resume my mission to get to know his torso. I feel his ribs, go over his shoulders and down his back, down his spine, back to his flanks. My touch is featherlight, so much so that Mattheo shivers when my digits move over the fine trail of hair vanishing into the waistband of his pants.

"You're driving me crazy. Stop touching me like I'm made of porcelain, Aliena, I'm not going to break," he says, his voice low. I meet his eyes and smile.