I do a quick walkthrough, straightening everything up, yet leaving all my work materials strewn across the dining room table. Since I’ve been fully immersed in the book I’m writing, I moved all my materials to the dining room table to free up the island counter in the kitchen.
It’s a disaster, but it’s an organized one. I know exactly where everything I need is. It’s fine, Matteo will get over it. Or maybe he won’t even notice.
I catch sight of myself in the mirror along the wall near the dining room table.
Never mind the disaster on the table. I’m the real disaster here.
My footsteps are rushed as I head down the hallway, slipping into my bedroom to change into something a bit more acceptable. I switch out my wrinkled sweatsuit for a pair of leggings and a sweater.
I walk into the bathroom, brushing my hair and pulling it back into a messy bun on top of my head. I opt for a quick layer of light makeup, just to cover the dark circles under my eyes and to bring a bit of color back into my cheeks.
I’m not on a tight deadline, so there’s really no excuse for my appearance other than not wanting to lose the momentum I have.
The inspiration lately has been like an overflowing well. It’s all thanks to Matteo really. He’s providing the muse; I’m just chasing after it.
The flirty banter between us keeps my mind stimulated. The conversation never feels flat or dry. Every time my phone goes off and I see his name, my heart does this stupid little stumble.
I’m supposed to see my cardiologist next week. Perhaps it’s an electrical issue and not related to Matteo Ford at all.
I finish wiping down the counters after sweeping the floors. I drag a match along the side of the box, watching the flame come to life before I hold it to the wick of my candle.
And then my phone vibrates. Crap, how did thirty minutes go by so fast?
Matteo
Honey, I’m home.
Jade
Coming.
Matteo
Damn, Sunny. You couldn’t even wait for me?
I choke on air. My eyes widen, water welling along my bottom eyelids as I cough loudly, struggling to catch my breath.
Matteo
Just kidding. Hurry up, though. Food’s gonna get cold.
Heat spreads across my face and I ignore the tingling sensation between my legs. I need to get laid or something by someone who isn’t Matteo Ford.
Slipping my feet from my slippers and into a pair of sneakers, I briskly walk out of my apartment, hopping on the elevator to the lobby on the first floor. It’s empty downstairs as I step out of the car and head to the front door.
Matteo stands on the other side of the glass, not noticing me at first. My eyes roam over his tousled hair, dropping down to his chest, then his torso before bouncing back to his face.
He’s wearing a pair of loose-fitting jeans, a white shirt, and a dark bomber jacket. I can’t tell if it’s navy blue or black in the lighting outside. He turns his head, a plastic take-out bag in his hand and his gaze collides with mine.
Steel gray eyes stare back at me, trailing along my neck, deliberately slow before flickering back to my face. The corners of his mouth twitch.
I push the door, holding it open for him. “Hey.” The word slips out on an exhale, sounding breathy. My throat tightens.
Matteo passes by me, that familiar bold, woodsy scent wafting toward me, and his lips lift into a smirk. “Hey, Sunny.”
The door shuts behind him, but he stops right in front of me. The space between us is almost nonexistent. I’m acutely aware of how tall he is, standing this close. I tip my head back, my neck extending as I look up at him.
“Hey.”