“Read my fucking mind.”
“Trust me, if I could do that, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“Fair enough. I’m—we’re—gonna tell him. Hell, that guy deserves all the family he can get. But I’ve got a feeling this is all going to be messy, so I think it might be better if we just wait a bit.”
My brow lifts at his concerns and my belly erupts with nerves.
But he can’t know what I’ve been doing. He can’t.
“Okay. Whatever you think is best.”
His eyes widen in shock.
“What? I can agree with you sometimes.”
“Apparently so,” he laughs, a genuine smile pulling at his lips.
“Shut up, you idiot.”
Before I know what’s happening, I’m in his arms and his lips are on mine.
“Woo-hoo, get in there, man,” Seb hollers from the living room as Theo’s tongue pushes into my mouth, searching out my own.
His hands skim down my body until he grips the backs of my thighs. My feet leave the floor and I find myself perched on the edge of the counter with his hardness pressed right where I need it.
Memories of this morning come flooding back to me—how good his touch felt, how badly I burned for more.
Until reality slams into me and I remember the bazillion and one reasons why I shouldn’t be losing myself in this infuriating guy again.
Curling my fingers in his jacket, I push him back.
He’s reluctant, but after a few seconds he releases my lips and takes a tiny step back.
His eyes burn as they stare into mine, and his chest heaves as he fights to get control of his breathing.
Fuck, he looks hot.
So hot that I almost say fuck it and demand he takes me to his bedroom right now and spend the rest of the day trying to prove to me how sorry he is for all of this.
I’m achingly aware that our time together is coming to an end. He might not be, but I am. And there’s a part of me that doesn’t want it to.
Some fucked-up part of me feels at home with him, even when we’re at each other’s throats.
Something just feels right.
But that doesn’t mean it is.
We’re fucking married. Something which neither of us had a say in.
This isn’t the fucking movies. I’m not going to let my heart lead the way and somehow carve a happily-ever-after for us. It’s just not going to happen.
But even now I know this, my grip on his jacket doesn’t loosen and my legs don’t unwrap from his body.
“Emmie looks good on you, man.”
“Yeah?” he asks, never taking his eyes off mine. “Maybe I should show you just how good. Pay you back for all your little performances.”
My breath catches at his suggestion, but while he might be partially serious, I know he’s not going to.