The Science of Loving (33 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Hot Coffee and Cold Feet

Strong hands and soft lips tugged rhythmically at my nipple. Mmmmm… This was how I wanted to wake up from now on. I could learn to love early morning cactus chin if he kept doing that with his tongue. My hands clasped his shorn head, feeling his emerging grin against my breast.

“G’morning, sweetness.”

“Mmmmm… Yes, it is,” I sighed and reached up, stretching like a cat. Ew… Flop sweat and stale sex. I yanked my arms down to stem the malodorous stench emanating from my pits
—lovely. I probably had a raging case of halitosis too. Why, oh why didn’t I shower last night
—oh right. He woke me up carrying me to bed after I’d fallen asleep on the couch, then after declaring it was his solemn duty to return me to my gentle slumber, proceeded to give fucking me into unconsciousness his best shot.

“Off.” I squirmed, shoving at him. I had to get away before he noticed the ‘
Eau Du Slut
’ emanating from my person. “Bathroom.”

“But it’s just getting interesting.” He pouted, tweaking my nipple. “I’m not done playing with these yet.”

“Believe me, if I don’t get some immediate me time, interesting’s going to take on new, and menacing implications. Off… Off…” My efforts were for the most part ineffectual since my elbows were stuck to my sides as a matter of HAZMAT containment.

“Fine.” He rolled onto his back so I could scramble out from under him; his holler followed my stumbling progress across the darkened bedroom. “But just so you know, I like waking up with a properly fucked woman covered in my stink.” Shit, he’d noticed. How could he smell and look so good the morning after, while I woke up smelling like a ten-dollar whore after Fleet Week. Life was so unfair; a testosterone factory that big should give your nose at least a little twitch.

“I’ll get some coffee going,” he yelled louder to make up for the distance muting his voice. “And when I get back, I want those tasty tits for breakfast with a side of cream.”
Oh, my… does that mean what I think?

I flipped on the light, grabbing the first toothbrush I saw, and began scrubbing my teeth in a giddy rush while I peed—
who said I couldn't multi-task?—
shit, I lunged for the toilette paper when an exuberant tug sent it spinning out of control—
damn, I really should’ve given this more thought—
I was trapped on the commode; one hand clutching a fistful of toilette paper still attached to the roll, while the other held the toothbrush as drool dripped off my chin. I tossed the toothbrush in the general direction of the sink, ricocheting white speckles onto the chrome facet, a single, lonely dot landing on the vanity mirror. Finally, I could liberate the wad of paper without TP’ing the entire bathroom.

I suppressed a frenetic giggle, seeing the spit decorating my chest in the mirror. Obviously, I wasn’t immune to Mat’s Pavlovian influence—
well, he'd have minty fresh breath after playtime—
I took a quick whore’s bath, spying his deodorant as I mopped up my salivary mess:
Natural Grooming by Herban Cowboy.
I popped the top off and sniffed—
nice
—a couple of swipes later, I was forest fresh and ready for a morning-after pep talk—
okay, deep breath. Just pretend he didn’t notice you woke up covered with a stench that could gag a maggot. Nope, not me—hey, are those fingerprints
—my hipbones were bedecked with red blotches.

I squeaked; slamming the door as a beautiful wall of naked maleness startled the shit out of me. The door crept inward as I backed away.

“Hey.”

“God, Mat, I didn’t know you were standing right there. You scared the bejeezus out of me.” I plopped down on the commode leaning forward, hugging my stomach. I wasn't use to this. I'd never stayed the whole night with a guy.

An enigmatic smile stole across his face, the devil dancing in his hooded grey eyes. “Yeah, but we both know how much you like scary me.”

“Not without a little warning, I don’t. Shit.”

“I’m sorry, baby. C’mere.” Squatting down, he gathered me in his arms.

“No, no… I’m okay. I just need a minute.” I tried pushing him away.

“Of course you’re okay. I’m an ass. Forgive me.”

I shook my head, feeling foolish. He stiffened. I placed a hand on his shoulder when I felt him start to pull back. “Not your fault. Even geniuses suffer occasional bouts of stupidity.”

“None of that now,” he said, brushing tears I hadn’t noticed off my face with a wad of toilette paper. “I won’t have anyone putting you down, including you. Now let’s get out of here while I can still feel my feet.” Holding out his hands, he pulled me up with a grin. “You wearing my deodorant?”

I nodded turning fireball red. “
Me gusta.”
He tossed over his shoulder as I followed his incredible bare ass all the way to the kitchen. “Enjoying the view?” Shit.

“
Si, gracias
. You’re a feast for the eyes.”
Hey, I’m flirting bilingually. Naked. Maybe I didn't totally suck at this after all.

“
De nada,
mío
gringa picante.”

I shifted uneasily on a barstool while Mat filled two cups with coffee, adding cream and extra sugar to mine. The leather felt weirdly uncomfortable, sticking to my bare skin. I retrieved one of the tea-towels hanging from the oven door, spreading it over the leather seat, then hopped back on a little too energetically—
whoops, no bra
—my cheeks reddened noticing his amusement.

“The leather felt icky.”

He slid a cup to me as I studied the quartz shards embedded in the dark granite counter. I glanced up, startled, when he didn't immediately release it. “Fair warning, I get twice as hungry when I don’t get breakfast in bed.” He smiled, seeing the shiver I couldn’t quite hide.

“You aren’t planning on cooking like that?” I asked by way of topic change, waving at all that olive skin.

“What, you don’t like Naked Chef?”

“Jamie Oliver never looked like that, I’d have noticed.”

“And he never will; he’s a midget. What is he, like 5 foot two?”

“You’re such a liar. He’s a normal sized guy. 5’10ish maybe.”

“Like I said, a midget.” He emerged from the refrigerator with a couple tubs of smear and a bag of bagels. “Besides, I think I can safely operate a toaster in my natural state.”

“I don’t know… The other night, David Letterman talked about a guy caught getting amorous with his toaster or more precisely getting his member caught.”

“Yeah, where was this?”

“London. The London Fire Brigade has even started a safety campaign on twitter. Ummm… hash tagged fiftyshadesofred I think.”

“No shit?” He set a plate with a bagel toasted golden-brown in front of me. “What kind of moron fucks his toaster when there’s a perfectly good vacuum cleaner?”

“You’re disturbed.”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the power tools, sweetness.” Oh, god…

Winding her up was so much fun; she was turning that perfect shade of pink.
Mmmmm… I'll have go shopping if I want to make good on my threats—
I crunched into my bagel watching her squirm as predawn light crept in through the windows. It was hard to believe that timid little girl I met two weeks ago was the same woman having naked breakfast in my kitchen. Had it only been two weeks? It was probably too soon to ask her to go on the pill. I hated having to deal with a condom when all I wanted was to snuggle and nap, but that kind of intimacy was reserved for exclusive relationships.

“So…, I guess I’ll call Daddy,” she said, chasing her last bite with some coffee.

“You might want to give it a little more time. It’s early and he probably didn’t get much sleep with the nurses constantly checking on him.”

“Okay.” Silence filled the kitchen. She chewed the inside of her cheek, shifting awkwardly, looking everywhere but at me.

“How you feeling baby?”

“Good.”

I gathered her close. “Sore?” There was my shy girl. Even her blushes were sexy.

“A little, I guess.” God, getting her to talk sometimes, was like pulling teeth. How could a woman this sensual be so filled with doubt she was practically celibate?

“I have just the thing to take care of that.”

I carried her back to bed and ordered her to stay put while I prepared her bath. Hidden behind the master bedroom’s half-bath was a grotto: A masterpiece of natural stone interwoven with steam-punk elements. Dumping some Epsom salts into the stone cistern, I opened the fill valves and a steaming waterfall splashed against the polished basin. After switching on some mood music and adjusting the lights, it was almost ready.

“Okay, beautiful, all I need is you. Close your eyes until I tell you to open them.”

I sank into water chest deep, settling her on my lap. Since a regular bathtub wasn’t big enough for me to soak comfortably, I installed a custom spa tub instead. I reduced the waterfall to a trickle and kissed her neck. “Okay, sweetie, open your eyes.”

“Oh, my God… This is so cool.” She slowly looked around. My bath packed a wallop when everything was properly adjusted. “I really have to start working on my powers of observation. How did I miss this earlier?”

“With only the regular lights on, most of this would’ve been hidden, especially with your brain clouded by all my awesome sexing.”

“Why even have regular lights? I’d keep it like this all the time.”

“Theatrical lighting’s great for the show, but not so good when you’re checking for gum under the seats.”

“Now, you have a dilemma, you’ll never know if I’m really into you, or just using you so I can spend quality time with your bathtub.”

“I can live with that, besides, my vacuum still loves me.”

“The toaster giving you the cold shoulder?”

“Yeah… frigid bitch.”

“I thought that was the refrigerator.”

“Naw, we have commitment issues. I get cold feet every time I pack her box.”

“Oh that one was bad,” Angie groaned. “No wonder my dad likes you, you’re jokes are even worse than his.”

“I told you I’m a dork.”

“A talented dork.”

“You better believe it baby. Now, relax while I use my talents on you.” She leaned back, sighing as I turned on the jets—
that’s right honey let it all go
—I pulled her hands behind my neck. Closing my eyes, I coasted my fingers down her arms. When I reached to her body, her hands slipped down to ride on mine. I cup her groin, settling her higher, so my lips could reach her neck and shoulders while my other hand worked on her breast.

“Mat?”

“Right here baby.” She pulled my hands from her, and turned to face me. Since this rearrangement left her ass pleasantly resting in my hands, I was able to contain my disappointment.

She balanced a hand on my shoulder, fingering my growing stubble as her eyes contemplated my chin. “How often do you shave?”

“Every day, twice on Sundays. How often do you shave?”

“Probably more often now that my social calendar has become more demanding. It’s hit or miss unless I have a date, or I’m going out in public without sleeves or long pants. So it can get pretty hairy if it’s been a lonely winter.”

“No worries, that’s a chore I’ll happily take over.”

“What?”

“One of these days I want to shave you.”

“Down there?”

“Okay, if you insist, but I kinda like those curls. Although, it might be fun working on my topiary skills, I could trim your bush into cool shapes.”

“Cool shapes?”

“Yeah baby, I’m inspired. I could give you a Mohaw… a Muffhawk. We could dye it cool colors… It’ll be bitch’n.” I grinned, squeezing her ass.

“I think we’ve been soaking too long. The heats effecting your mind.”

“Heats got nothing to do with it, but let’s finish anyway. You need to call your dad and I have some man stuff that needs doing.” After helping Angie from the bath, I pulled a towel from the warmer, wrapping her in a warm hug, her curly locks snagging on my chin. Definitely time for a shave. “Okay, woman, get going. I need me some man time.” She gave an outraged squawk when I sent her out with a playful swat on her terrycloth padded ass.