Collateral Damage |+18|

7. I could fall in love with him. [Part 1]

7. I could fall in love with him.

Defne.

I wake up, and the first thing I see is a bare back.

I blink again, trying to clear my vision. But he doesn’t leave; he’s still there.

Frozen, I watch as Matheo opens a huge closet and pulls out a simple white t-shirt, then slips it over his head, covering his body for my still-confused eyes.

“Matt?” I murmur, bewildered.

Immediately, he turns toward me, barefoot and wearing long cotton pants. He looks… so domestic. He steals my breath, but before I can process my reaction, he walks quickly, and in less than a second, he’s in front of me. I watch him silently as he drops to his knees before me, looking up at me closely.

“Are you okay?”

“What…?” I look at him; the concern in his eyes makes his gray seem even more intense. “What happened to me?”

“You hit your head on the door, and I think when you fell, you also hit…”

“Ouch,” I complain as I try to sit up.

“There…” he points to my hand, holding it at my hip, almost on my ass. I complain again at the pain radiating through the muscle. “Does it hurt a lot?”

I nod, rubbing the spot gently.

“Being near you increases my chances of disaster,” I say absentmindedly, remembering everything.

He smirks to the side, looking at me almost shyly, which inevitably makes me more shy. Shyness in this incredibly large, masculine, intimidating man does strange things inside me.

“This is my apartment,” he scratches one side of his beard. “A doctor already came to see you. You only have a severe bruise on your head. If you experience dizziness, delirium, or fainting, we have to go straight to the ER.”

“Doctor?” I ask. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not long.”

“But you called a doctor…”

“I got one fast enough. When I brought you here, he was already here. You were unconscious for less than an hour.”

“What?”

How did he get a doctor that fast, in one of the most congested cities in the world?

Who is he?

God?

He must notice the shock on my face because he says in a firm voice:

“I was worried, Defne.”

“But…”

“Don’t ever do something like that again.”

I step back, staring at him in disbelief.

“You know I didn’t do it on purpose, right?”

He bites his lower lip hard, in that gesture of his that always grabs all my attention. Then he looks around, as if searching for what to say.

“You get into so much trouble,” he growls softly. “Honestly, I don’t understand how you’ve stayed alive until now.”

I laugh, because it’s so hilarious. His words make it clear how baffled he is that I survived in this world before him. As if he’s my guardian now, as if his job is to keep me alive, and he can’t conceive that I was fine before him.

I laugh again, and as usual, I turn my face to the side to hide my laugh.

“Why do you do that?” I feel his fingers gently pushing my hair back. “Why do you hide your laugh, Def?”

I close my eyes for several seconds, enjoying his touch in my hair, his fingers softly combing behind my ear. That his hands—so strong and big—can show such tenderness is hard to comprehend. I don’t remember the last time I felt a touch; I’ve been so alone lately that I had forgotten what this was: a sweet touch on me.

“Defne,” he calls me.

I open my eyes and look at him.

He looks at my mouth, and I look at his, and suddenly the air changes, becoming so intimate. I lick my lips, almost feeling him on me. Because that’s what he’s doing: he’s kissing me without touching me, just with his eyes. And it’s the most intimate thing anyone has ever done with me.

I hold back a moan when his hand goes down to my neck, holding me there; his fingers still tangled in my hair, pressing my skin with that possessiveness he always shows.

“My father,” I whisper.

“What?”

“My father,” I repeat a little louder. “He thinks laughing too loudly is disrespectful, that’s why I hide my laugh.”

“Well, he’s an idiot.”

That’s an understatement.

My father was always an absent figure in my life… but only physically. Because the rest of him was there in the countless lessons he made me take, shaping me to be someone he could use when necessary. Lessons in etiquette, posture, and endless protocols I never cared about and try to forget when he doesn’t need me to use them. But it’s hard, especially when sometimes I don’t even know who I am.

Sometimes I withdraw so much into myself, hiding in a silent shell, absent and distant from others. I had never realized how alone I was… until now, with this man in front of me, making me feel hunger. A blazing hunger for him, for his touch, for his presence, for his eyes on me. It’s maddening because I’ve never felt this before. It’s like he’s awakening me, making me crave things I never thought I could have.

“I hadn’t heard you laugh before.”

“I don’t laugh easily,” I confess.

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

I smile with a full, sincere smile, the most real I’ve had in what feels like forever.

I nod, agreeing with him.

His eyes flicker back to my mouth. He leans slightly toward me, then clears his throat and murmurs softly:

“Good.”

I don’t know if my eyes are deceiving me, but I could swear my smile made him nervous; I even think his face has reddened a little. I want to laugh again, but this time I manage to control myself. I don’t want to give him away or make him feel uncomfortable.

Silently, I watch him stand and return to the closet. The muscles in his back flex as he searches through his clothes until he finally turns around with a large hooded sweater.

“You can change to be more comfortable.”

Comfortable?

I shake my head.

“I should go home,” I stand very slowly, careful not to hurt myself.

“I’m not letting you be alone after the hit you took, Defne.”

“Nothing happened to me.”

“Buttercup,” he comes closer, leaning down until he’s at my level. With his pinky, he pushes my hair back, exposing my forehead to his eyes. “When you look in the mirror, you’ll realize that hit was something. You’re already getting a bruise.”

He says the last part frowning, angry.

“Matt, I’m…” I start, but stop when I see his eyes light up the moment I call him that. I clear my throat and say, “Matheo…”

He laughs shortly and roughly, forming small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, showing the years of life experience he has over me.

“You can call me whatever you want, Defne.”

“Matheo…”

“But remember Matheo is your boss,” he takes a strand of my hair in his hand and gives it a soft tug, as if he can’t stop touching it. “And we’re not at the company. So tell me, Matt.”

“No…”

“Come on, Defne,” and he tugs my hair playfully again.

“Matt,” I give in, laughing a little, which makes his eyes shine even more. “But I have to go.”

“Do you have anyone taking care of you at home?”

I look away and softly say, “No.”

“Then take this,” he puts the sweater in my hands and points to a wooden door. “Go take a shower; that will make you feel better. Meanwhile, I’ll prepare something for dinner, okay?”

“Matt…”

“Go, Defne,” he looks at me in that way that leaves no room for argument.

I roll my eyes in front of him so he sees that his command doesn’t make me happy, but I do as he says. When I’m about to enter the bathroom, I swear I hear his laugh behind me. I turn to look, but he’s already leaving the room.

This man.