Chapter 29

DARCY

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Waking up, I stretch my body like a cat in the sun. I'm sore in places that have never been sore before. I'd like to say it's from the fabulous sex I had last night, but that's a different kind of workout.

Now that Chance's house is complete, and the party is in two days, Matt decided I needed a mini staycation. We've been staying at his place, and he's been spoiling me rotten. Sleeping in. Rom-coms. Spa day with a facial and mani-pedi. He gave me the massage himself, something about not wanting someone else's hands on me. Jealous much? But deep down, I loved the feeling of protectiveness from him.

This gift of pampering means more to me than he'll ever know. I'm not used to being the girl that's cared for by someone else, and, honestly, I could get used to it. Especially when it's Matt.

Yesterday, like most days, he started his morning surfing. So instead of watching him from the comfort of the deck with a hot coffee in my hands, I stupidly asked to go with him. I would like to blame my colossal failure on the wetsuit that didn't fit, but I can't. Matt had the patience of a saint and seemed to enjoy being the teacher, but unfortunately, I didn't get a passing grade. The only time I could stand on the board for over six seconds was when he showed me how to stand while we were still on the beach. If there was a song to my surfing soundtrack, "Wipeout" would have the most plays.

Failure aside, it was fun. I loved the twinkle in Matt's eyes as I panicked because I thought I saw a shark when a dolphin popped up beside me. His genuine laugh warmed my heart so much that I barely noticed the cold water. Unfortunately, my muscles remind me of that fun this morning. Now I know the secret to his incredible abs.

I groan and rub at my side, working out the ache there. My arm reaches over to snuggle with Matt, and his side is empty, his spot cold. I throw myself back on the pillow and close my eyes. He's probably out surfing, making it look easy. I know the truth now. It's not easy.

I start to get up when Taylor Swift's song about turning twenty-two blares through the house, and it hits me. Matt enters the bedroom with a silly party hat on his head, a tray full of my favorite sugary breakfast foods, and a mug that probably has more caramel than coffee in it. An orange Gerber Daisy decorates the tray, and I smile at the sight of my favorite flower. He remembered.

"Happy Birthday, pretty girl!" He sits the tray on the nightstand and leans down to give me a quick kiss. "How does it feel to be twenty-two?"

"I'm sore. I'm old and don't recover easily." He laughs, and I grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him down for a more substantial kiss, my favorite way to start the day. He pulls back with a grin and a twinkle in his eye.

"Nope, breakfast first, while it's still warm." He turns down the music, but T. Swift still plays in the background. He sets the tray across my lap and crawls into bed to snuggle beside me. Wrapping his arm around my shoulder and absently playing with my hair, I contently sip the gourmet coffee. Yum!

I moan with approval, and his smile grows. "I swear, that sound is going to be the death of me," he mumbles.

"This is so delish and thoughtful. You didn't have to go to all this trouble, but I'm glad you did." I feed him a perfect bite of waffle, whipped cream, and strawberry dipped in syrup.

"I enjoy doing things for you. You give so much of yourself to others. It's my job to give to you." He caresses my face, and I lean into his warm palm. He gives me a light peck and leans back against the headboard.

"You don't have to do that. I'm pretty self-sufficient, you know." The song switches to "Everything Has Changed," and as it plays, I think this song is perfect for this moment. His eyes feel like coming home.

He turns back toward me, his hand cradling my face. "I know you are. But you don't have to be." His callused finger absently rubs the faint scar above my eyebrow.

He kisses me, and he tastes like sugary goodness. I try to roll on top of him but am pinned under the breakfast tray. I roll back to my spot and groan.

He laughs. "Eat up, pretty girl. You're gonna need your strength." He gives me another quick kiss and settles back with his arm around my shoulders, content to let me enjoy my breakfast.

I finish, feeding Matt every other bite. He reaches for my coffee, and I smack his hand. "No, sir. I'll share my food, but never my coffee. Got it?" I give him my best attempt at a menacing scowl.

He laughs. "Got it. My apologies." He reaches over and hands me the card under the flower. "I wasn't sure what to get you for your birthday, and I almost got you shoes, but I haven't really inspected the shoe inventory, and that was intimidating. So, I went with something I hope is as good as shoes."

"You didn't have to get me anything, but thank you."

"You haven't even opened it yet. Why are you saying thank you?"

"Because you've given me so much already. And if your first thought was shoes, then, well, that tells me this is a thoughtful gift. So, thank you."

He gets up, puts the tray on the nightstand, and I open his card. This is the first card he's ever gotten me. Will it be sappy? Generic? I mean, do guys pay attention to cards? The fact he got me one at all is surprising. I open the card, read it, and double over, laughing. He went with a spot-on funny card. It's perfect! My muscles remind me of their workout yesterday, and I grimace.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I know how you get those washboard abs. Just a little sore from yesterday."

"Well, let me give you your present, and maybe we can do a little stretching this morning to work out the kinks."

"Kinks, huh?" I arch one eyebrow at him. "You have any?"

"Just making you happy, pretty girl. Your smile is my kink."

"I swear, you're so swoony, I can barely stand it."

"Swoony, huh?" He laughs. "In that case, let me give you my gift." He hands me two envelopes, each with a big red number one and two.

I open the first envelope, and there are plane tickets for Miami in January. I'm curious. "Miami?"

"Yeah, it's just for a weekend, but it's before school starts back for you, and I thought we could have a little getaway."

"It's perfect." I move to thank him properly and pull him towards me. We fall back, and I quickly get him out of his clothes so I can stretch out my sore muscles. I like that euphemism.

When we break our kiss, both gasping for air, he covers my face with kisses, starting above my eye and working down my jaw, down my neck, to my breasts, where he stops and gives them his focused attention. He licks and nips, and I barely notice his hands massaging my sore side. Everything feels so good. Matt's mouth on my skin heats me, and I rub my legs together, aching for some attention there.

Matt reads the signs and works his way down. His finger sweeps across my folds, teasing me.

"You're so wet, pretty girl. I love that your body does that for me." His sexy voice is deep, seductive. I melt from the inside when he talks like this. I'd do anything he asks when he uses his bedroom voice. It's such a turn on.

He slips one finger in, stretching me, then slips in a second, filling me and curving it, and then, yes.

"There, yes. Oh, that feels so good," I whisper.

He kisses down my stomach, and his tongue laps at that bundle of nerves, sending me over the edge. My walls pulse, and I come on his hand. His hands are magical.

I can feel his hardness against my leg, and I want to make him feel good, too.

I reach for him, wanting him to fill me. He gently takes my hand and pulls it away from my objective.

"Nope, not yet, pretty girl. That was for the first envelope." He gives me a wicked grin, like he enjoys withholding what I want.

I attempt to pout, but I'm too sated to do it properly. He reaches over and pulls the other envelope off the floor where it fell.

"Open it," he orders.

"Wow, you sure are bossy, and on my birthday, too." I smile and tease him.

I open the second envelope and look at the tickets. Everything stops. I squeal, wrap my arms around him, and squeeze him with all my might.

"Happy birthday, pretty girl," he chokes out because I'm probably cutting off his air from squeezing his neck so tight.

"OMG, Matt! How?" I'm bouncing up and down on my knees.

"Well, I might know a guy who knows a guy."

"But how?" I look at the tickets again, reading the details. "Are these really backstage passes?" I can't contain my excitement.

"Yep, and front-row tickets for Taylor Swift's biggest fan. She's kicking off her tour in Miami, and the date was perfect."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," I say between kisses. "Let me say thank you properly," I say against his lips. I kiss up his jaw, nibble on his ear, and whisper everything I'm going to do to him. I lightly run my nails down his chest, admiring those abs, running my tongue along the ridges. He squirms, and I'm thrilled at what my touch can do to him. Two can play at this game.

My hand grazes along his shaft as I lap at the pre cum at his tip.

"Baby, you don't have to," he starts. I take him in as much as possible and work him with my hand and tongue. He groans, and I smile.

"Is this okay?" I ask innocently.

His hand gently fists in my hair, guiding me.

"Pretty girl, you have a perfect mouth. So perfect, but I need to be inside you when I come."

He pulls me up, and I straddle his lap. "Well, this is still my birthday, and my thank you, so settle down, slugger, and let me work." I impale myself with his cock, riding him.

After the initial shock wears off, he tries to stop me. "Condom," he growls out.

"I'm on birth control," I say. "Relax, and let me say thank you, please."

Matt doesn't let me do all the work, but I enjoy trying. He gives me two more orgasms before he comes. We both collapse into the pillows, and he pulls me into him, so I rest my head on his chest.

We're quiet, resting in the contentment we find in each other. His hand plays with my hair, and his finger lazily brushes back and forth over my scar.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Rub my scar, kiss my scar. Is it that noticeable?" I'm suddenly self-conscious about it. Maybe it's more prominent than I thought.

"I'm sorry." He says this with force and conviction. I'm taken aback by his shift in tone. His pained eyes look into mine. "It was one of the scariest days of my life."

"It was?"

"Yeah, when I hit that line drive, and it went foul and hit you, I don't think I've ever run so fast in all my life. It knocked you out cold. I was hysterically yelling for someone to call 911. When the ambulance came, I was going with you, consequences be damned. Cole, Dad, and your mom insisted I stay at the game, but they couldn't get me out of the ambulance. Dad was so mad, but I didn't care. I don't think I breathed until you opened your eyes at the hospital."

"I was fine, just a few stitches." I shrug, reaching up to touch the spot.

"And a concussion. Terrifying." He shudders.

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, I know. But you were still in middle school, and I was trying so hard to show the others why I made the varsity baseball team as a freshman." He lets out a breath like he's reliving the memory. "I was more focused on the force of the hit, not the angle. It went straight at you. And you were doing something on your phone. You didn't even see it coming."

"It wasn't your fault. Foul balls happen." I didn't know he remembered that day, especially in such detail.

"Dad benched me three games for leaving. Cole kept telling me you were fine. Your mom was with you, but I just couldn't keep playing a game without being able to say sorry. You probably don't even remember that day, do you?"

"I do." I give him a smile that conveys all of my feelings. "I woke up with a headache, and you were right beside me in your uniform, holding my hand."

Of course, I remember that day. How could I not remember the most monumental day in my life? It was the day I fell in love with Matt Hartman.