Page 54 of Captive Mate
Ian and Nate stomped in, took their plates from Matthew with barely a grunt of thanks, and settled themselves opposite me; Matthew sat down next to me, and then — yeah, I was going to focus on my food.
Nate kept looking at Matthew and me, smiling weirdly, shaking his head, and stealing bacon off of Ian’s plate. Ian just shoveled his food down without looking at anyone.
I scarfed my own breakfast as quickly as I could, because I couldn’t take much more of this. The hickeys on my neck felt like they were lit up in giant strobing neon lights. Matthew ate methodically at my side, not showing any more signs of wanting to talk than anyone else.
Nate took a swig of his coffee, and the writing on the side of his mug caught my eye. “Does that sayThe Only Mate I Need Is Coffeemate?”
Ian grunted and rolled his eyes, and Nate grinned. “We have another one that saysNot Before Coffee. I’ve been writing on them with Sharpie when the coffee’s brewing in the morning.”
“Ugh,” Ian muttered.
“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.
Ian finally looked at me. “Notnot—knot, with a K,” he said, sounding as embarrassed about that as I felt about the state of my neck.
I couldn’t resist needling him — and this couldn’t get more awkward anyway, so I might as well embrace it. “Is that because you always have morning sex?” I asked brightly, with a big smile. “Or is Nate trying to tell you oh-so-subtly that he’d rather wait to get bent over until after the coffee’s already —”
“Okay!” Matthew said loudly, pushing his chair back with a clatter. “We’re done! You can do the dishes, Ian. I cooked.”
Matthew grabbed me by the arm and hauled me out of my chair and out of the kitchen. I was chuckling too much to resist, and Ian was speechless anyway.
Maybe I hadn’t quite gotten my own back for the basement’s shag carpet, but I was on the way. It might even be worth it to hang around the Armitage territory for a while, just to make Ian look like that more often…and with that, my mood plummeted. Matthew had told me that if I wanted to be a pack shaman I should stay here, but that was hardly a warm invitation — and he’d said it in anger.
So many thoughts were spinning through my mind that I hardly noticed getting up the stairs or into Matthew’s bedroom until the door slammed shut behind us and I was spun around and pressed up against it, Matthew leaning down over me, his hands on either side of my head.
“You really know how to press Ian’s buttons,” he said, and I couldn’t read his tone at all.
“He deserves it.” I stared him down without flinching.
“Yeah,” Matthew said quietly, and a smile teased the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, he really does a lot of the time.”
My mouth dropped open in shock, and he took advantage of it to lean down and kiss me, his tongue delving into my mouth and teasing mine.
We made out against the door for an indeterminate while, lost in the play of tongues and the soft sounds of kisses and pleasure trapped in the intimate space between us. Our bodies molded together like they’d never been apart.
One final kiss, and then he leaned his forehead against mine. His eyes were still closed. Gods, he looked exhausted. Those dark bags under his eyes were big enough to travel internationally.
“Shower?” I asked hopefully.
Matthew chuckled. “Shower. And then sleep.” He opened his eyes and smiled at me; his eyes were smiling too, with little crinkles at the corners. Even worn-out and coming down from a night of fighting for his life and a morning of fucking in the woods he was so fucking handsome. It was unfair. “Stay with me?”
Well, how could I say no? I nodded, and he caught me by the hand and led me into the bathroom, his fingers warm and firm around mine.
I didn’t usually shower with other people, even when I was sleeping with them. I liked to linger, soaping every crevice and then letting the water wash down over me endlessly, a soothing, hypnotizing cascade that sluiced away all my thoughts along with the soap and grime.
Matthew turned out to be an excellent shower partner. For one, he let me stand directly under the hot water, exiling himself to the edges of it. Well, not totally exiled. There was barely enough space between our bodies for the water to flow through. But he let me hog the shower. And for two, he didn’t get in my way. He didn’t grope me, or try to wash me, or mess with my hair — which was something I would’ve hated, because I had a system. I was particular about how I got clean, even when I wasn’t in my other form using my tongue.
Instead, he shared the soap and minded his own business, letting me enjoy the warm press of his body while I washed.
I closed my eyes and tipped my head up, allowing the water to course down my chest and rinse away the last of the lather. Billowing steam softened my skin and warmed my lungs. I was in heaven.
Matthew’s chest pressed up against my back. Well, I was done. Why not lean back and luxuriate? His chest hair felt even better in the shower. The rest of him wasn’t bad either.
“Ian has really good shampoo,” I said without thinking. “You should get some of that.” He tensed slightly, and I shot an elbow into his ribs. “He wasn’t in the shower with me, asshole. I woke up in his and Nate’s place, where you left me, I might add. Was I supposed to just stay dirty?”
“I didn’t say anything.” Matthew sighed and wrapped an arm around my waist. “Sorry. Our mom gets him that stuff. I guess she thinks I’m enough of a grown-up to get my own.”
“Where are your parents?” I knew Matthew and Ian’s father had been the pack leader at some point, from an offhand comment Sam Kimball had made, but I hadn’t seen or heard any sign of them since I’d been with the Armitages.
