A Man of Unusual Talent

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

It wasn't his idea of a good time.

The porch light was on. "How sweet," CC murmured, brushing a couple of stray marshmallows off the duct taped passenger seat and onto the scorched carpet of his car.

"What?"

"Sorry, Mom. He left the light on for me. I thought it was sweet."

"Raise your standards, CC," Margaret laughed softly. "Even hotels do that much."

"Mat's not a hotel, Mom. He's a real man, and a gentleman to boot."

"I know, sweetheart. Enjoy. I'll see you Sunday to make lunches for sure, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it." He ended the call and sat, staring just a minute at Mat's little house. It felt...weird, not going home to his own place, but good weird. Like he could easily get used to coming here, maybe leaving the toothbrush he'd bought tonight in the little cup in Mat's bathroom. "Well, here goes."

Before he made plans to move in, he needed to make sure Mat knew exactly what he was getting. Marshmallows and all. That wasn't his idea of a good time. Pushing open the car door, CC grabbed the little bag of toiletries he'd gotten from work and climbed out. The air was fresh and sweet, full of the promise of sunshine and forever. Okay, forever was probably his imagination, but he could smell the fact that tomorrow was going to be a glorious, sunny day. Not the soul sucking gray cloud of rain that had been hanging over Morrisonville the last few days.

The front door swung open as he placed his foot on the porch, and CC's lips twitched. Once. Twice. Then the twitching erupted into a full-on, lip-stretching, skin-splitting grin. "Hi." That was the epitome of conversational excellence. At least, it was the best he could muster when Mat stood in the doorway looking like that. A hank of brown hair hung down over one eye, his cheek bore the red mark of a pillow crease, his chest...

CC swallowed hard as his mouth watered. Mat's chest was a piece of sculpted beauty that belonged on a Greek god...a superhero... It was perfect. Muscled, tanned, lightly furred...and delicious little pink nipples poking out, begging for his lips...his tongue. "Jesus..." He breathed through his nose. Why was he always fighting for control around Mat Giraud?

"Just me, I'm afraid. No deities on the premises, just a few men in tights playing superheroes. Come in, CC."

"I woke you up. I'm sorry."

"No worries. I was watching Daredevil on Netflix and dozed off." Mat turned to lead the way into the house, and CC nearly drew blood in his attempt to hold back the groan that tried to escape his lips. Black silk pajama pants clung...clung...to his hips, the muscled lines of his buttocks...tucked into the cleft, luring CC's eyes down a path he'd seldom traveled. "Arck."

"What's that?" Mat's eyes twinkled as he glanced back over his shoulder, one brow lifted quizzically.

"Nothing." CC shook his head, but was painfully aware he hadn't shaken off the distracting effect Mat was having on his libido. "Daredevil, huh? Wasn't that a movie?"

"Yeah. I have that, too. But this is a new series straight to Netflix." Mat paused in the hallway between the bedroom and the bathroom. "I'm sorry."

Blinking, CC tried to process what Mat might be sorry for, but gave up when his gaze couldn't seem to lift beyond those peaked nipples. "What?"

"We passed the kitchen. I didn't mean to drag you straight off to bed. Would you like a snack or a drink?"

"No." CC stepped closer...close enough that every breath he took smelled like Mat, his almond soap, his cologne...the musky man asleep scent was unique to Mat. "Everything I want is right here." He let his hands prove his point as the plastic bag hit the ground and his twitching fingers sought skin and muscle.