The Blush Factor by Deborah Bladon

Chapter Twenty

Matthew

I’m skatingclose to the edge, but dammit, this woman, so young and tempting with the most goddamn gorgeous lips I’ve ever seen, is sitting next to me, enthralled by everything I say.

I don’t seek out that type of hero-worship because I admit I’m not a hero to anyone.

I’m a guy who works hard to keep those around him safe and happy, and the kicker is that I get to enjoy that and make a living doing something I love.

My comment about doing things that would rate high on her blush factor scale did indeed send a rosy hue over her delicate cheeks, but I need to stop myself because this is wrong in so many ways.

I hang my head to catch my breath.

She’s a virgin.

She is a virgin.

I’m not.

I almost laugh aloud at that because I lost my virginity a hell of a long time ago. Long enough to forget many of the small details that brought me to that moment, but I do remember that it was special even though the entire thing was quick.

“Like what?”

My head snaps up when I hear those two words come from her mouth.

“What?” I ask, knowing full well what she just said.

“Like what?” she repeats in a soft tone edged with a nervous tremor.

I sit in silence, weighing the consequences if I tell her that when I was twenty-one, I was seeking out pussy like it was my next meal.

It was sometimes. At that age, I would have gladly given up food for days just to fuck. I often did just that.

Much of that is a blur, but some of it is still crystal clear to me.

“You said that Professor Stein helped you when you were in college,” she begins before she takes a pause, “Did you know her when you were twenty-one?”

She’s hopped back on the fishing boat and is navigating into the murky waters that are past that I share with Erin.

“Yes,” I answer simply. “We knew each other.”

Something shifts in her expression. I can read most people, but this pink-haired beauty has me perplexed.

“She’s a very intelligent, successful woman,” she states.

Erin is all of that and more, but we’re friends, and I can’t tell if Faith wants or needs to hear that, so I offer it up on a silver platter just in case. “She’s been a good friend to me.”

Her brows pop up. “Oh, a friend.”

“A mentor,” I add. “A confidante at times. We’ve seen each other through some difficult moments, triumphs as well.”

I stop there because tooting Erin Stein’s horn is not the reason I invited Faith to my home tonight.

I wanted her here so I could stare at her and learn more about her.

So far, I’ve nailed the first part of that, and the only knowledge I’ve gained is that she prefers the long-winded ramblings of a neuroscientist to a pop playlist.

“It’s good to have a friend like that,” she says as if she’s reassuring herself that it’s a positive thing.

Since I read a fair number of her recent diary entries, I ask a question I already know the answer to, but it does lead me away from temptation, which is all I want at this moment.

“Do you have a friend like that, Faith?”

Her perfect lips dip into a frown. “No. I don’t have a lot of friends.”

I didn’t dive into the pages of her diary written when she was a teenager, because eww, but I know from what I read that there’s a Gwynn in her life and the woman I met the other night, Sadie.

“Sadie seems great.”

A smile tugs at her mouth, and I want to keep it there, so I continue talking, “The fact that she sent you home with enough food to last at least two weeks shows she’s looking out for you. Beyond that, she’s a doctor. She understands what you’re going through.”

Listen to me being all supportive and shit.

It would be admirable if I didn’t keep stealing glances at her tits.

“That’s very true,” she agrees with me. “I’m super lucky I met her.”

“I’m sure she feels the same way about you.”

Her blue eyes search my face. “You’re just as fascinating as I am.”

Something cracks deep inside of me because that has to be one of the kindest compliments I’ve ever received. Misplaced? Yes, but still kind.

“I’m glad you think so, Faith.”

She busies herself by scrunching the linen napkin in front of her in her fist. “I guess I should go home.”

“To study?”

Nodding, she sighs. “One day that will be over, right?”

“One day,” I assure her. “But, you’ll still have the urge to learn. You crave it, don’t you?”

I silently scold myself for sending this conversation back to a place in my filthy mind where she asks me to teach her things, things that my cock will like very much.

“Knowledge?” she asks hesitantly. “Are you asking me if I crave knowledge?”

“And experiences,” I add on for good measure.

For the first time since we met, I see a fire in her eyes. Those brilliant blue eyes open wide, and desire is there, swimming in their depths as she studies me with stuttered breaths falling from between her lips. “Yes, I crave those things.”

I know she does, and they all involve me.

I’ve read about her cravings. I’ve come too many times to the thought of satisfying every one of them.

Hurriedly, she pushes back from the table. “I need to go, Dr. Hawthorne.”

I stand too. I fucking love hearing her call me that. Is it shameful that I enjoy it as much as I do? Of course it is, but it’s my fantasy, and thank fuck I don’t write that shit down because anyone who stumbled on it and read it would have a goddamn heart attack.

“It’s Matthew,” I remind her because in some way I can’t explain, I do want to be her friend.

“Right,” she says with a nod of her head. “You’re Matthew and I’m Faith.”

As fucking adorable as she is, I don’t want her to rush out of here panicked in any way, and I can tell that she’s embarrassed by her admission that she craves things.

I scramble for something to say that will keep her in my orbit. I don’t want her to slam her apartment door shut and then set out on a mission to avoid me in the future at all costs.

“I have a friend you should meet,” I say, without thinking it through, but fuck it, it’s a plan, and I’m going with it.

She turns to face me. “A friend?”

“He’s great,” I begin, “I think you two…”

Her hands drop to her hips. “Thank you, but I don’t need you to set me up.”

Jesus Christ.

Does she think I’d actually try and set her up with another man? For what purpose? So that her first time can be with some undeserving schmuck?

I know it can’t be with me either, but I’m coming to terms with that. It’ll take time.

“It’s not a set up,” I grind those words out through a clenched jaw. “It’s a friend of mine. He works in emergency medicine. Gavin. Gavin Fuller is his name.”

She clasps her hands together in front of her. “Oh, a doctor.”

“Right.” I nod. “He’s living your dream, so let’s meet up with him for a coffee one day.”

“Let’s?” she repeats. “You’ll come too?”

I stare at her lips because in a perfect world, she’d say that just as she was on the verge of an orgasm with my dick buried inside of her.

My world is imperfect, though, because that can never happen.

I snap back to reality. “I’ll make the introductions. I’ll reach out to Gavin, and we can set something up from there.”

“I’d like that.” She takes a deep breath. “I appreciate you doing that for me, Matthew.”

“It’s my pleasure, Faith.”

It is my pleasure. Doing her a favor doesn’t come close to the things I really want to do for her, but it’ll do. It has to do.