Page 130 of In at the Deep End

The small room felt a world away from the rest of the house.

Bookshelves lined one wall. A broad desk sat beneath the window overlooking the lantern-lit garden. A battered leather sofa occupied the opposite wall beside a tall filing cabinet, and the only sounds were the distant murmur of conversation and the faint thrum of music filtering through the glass.

Matt stepped inside and turned in a circle. “I wasn’t expecting this. Mind you, I don’t know what I was expecting.” He glanced at the shelves and smiled. “Definitely fewer books. And as for the desk…Well, it seems unnecessarily large.”

Owen smirked. “Does it?”

“I’m guessing you created hotel empires on that.” Matt peered at him, head tilted. “That’d be the sort of paperwork that requires a runway, right? Because you could land a small aircraft on that thing.”

Owen laughed as he closed the door. The click of the latch seemed to muffle the party another notch.

Matt wandered over to the window. Owen joined him.

From there they could just about see the garden below, little pools of golden light beneath the trees, guests drifting between conversations as though the evening had nowhere particular to be.

“I thought you might appreciate somewhere we wouldn’t be interrupted.”

Matt’s face lit up. “I do.” He took Owen’s hand and led him to the couch where he sat, patting the seat cushion next to him.

Amused, Owen joined him, unable to stifle the catch in his breathing when Matt leaned closer, his fingers grazing Owen’s neck, their lips meeting.

It felt unrushed, easy, and so fucking natural.

Matt deepened the kiss, his hands stroking Owen’s chest, his touch confident.

Owen stilled for a second, and Matt stopped mid-kiss. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Matt smirked. “Well, it’s obviously something.”

Owen drank in the sight of him, the warmth in his eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks, the soft lips that looked so fucking inviting.

Those same lips twitched. “You’re staring at me.”

“This is true.”

“Why?”

Owen couldn’t hold back his smile. “You’ve stopped asking permission.”

Matt blinked, and a heartbeat later, he kissed Owen again, only now the kiss lasted longer, filled with a growing urgency that had Owen’s blood heading south.

It wasn’t simply the feel of Matt’s lips on his, the way Matt’s hand strayed to Owen’s crotch, fingers tracing the line of his cock through his shorts.

This time Matt was the one setting the pace, as though he’d cast off all his inhibitions.

He’s forgotten to be nervous.

Owen sank back against the cushions, becoming still, waiting to see where Matt would take them next.

Matt didn’t stop to draw breath, but climbed into Owen’s lap, kissing him, touching him.

And there you are.

This wasn’t the hesitant young man who analysed everything.

This was the real Matt, and Owen wanted him more than breath.