“You think that’ll stop me?” he murmurs, holding onto my waist. “Give me the phone.” His fingers disappear under the hem of my top, his touch feather-light, making me squirm as he traces the curve of my waist. “Don’t test me.”
We’re in the most compromising position imaginable. The pressure of his morning erection against my thigh has my body igniting with arousal. I’m instantly ready, panties wet, nipples hard. He’s not trying to hide it, doesn’t readjust his body to disguise how hard he is.
My insides knot in anticipation with every inch of my skin he touches. The atmosphere turns heavy, roaring with sexual innuendo intense enough to vaporize diamonds.
His heart thumps faster against his ribs that press into my chest, and my heart accepts the challenge, matching the rhythm. My every breath turns shallow, short, and strained.
God, I want him so much I can taste my own desire.
Awe in his eyes grows tenfold. He looks like he’s under a spell, mesmerized by the feel of my skin under his fingertips. Dumbstruck, when his eyes meet mine, pupils blown.
Any moment now.
He’ll kiss me.
And it’ll be spectacular.
I’ve imagined this moment for weeks, but reality will be better. It’s already better than the endless scenarios my imagination came up with. I’m ready. Waiting.Hoping.
“You’re so beautiful, little one,” he whispers, eyes feasting on my face.
My boobs vibrate.
Literally.
The alarm goes off, breaking the spell, pulling us out of the sexual, red haze just as his fingers are about to brush against my bra, and Theo moves away faster than I’d like.
That stings.
I pull the phone out and contemplate hurling it at the wall, but after a deep breath, I disable the alarm and open the photo gallery to show him the picture. He’s peaceful in it, face relaxed and content. I’ve not seen him like that before.
The Hayes brothers are pros at maintaining an impassive, emotionless face. Still, I’ve known Theo long enough to read his mood by paying attention to the small gestures: narrowing of the eyes, flaring nostrils, the corners of his mouth ticking up when he’s amused but doesn’t want to show it.
“I need to get ready for work.”
He takes the phone but doesn’t delete the picture. Instead, he sends a copy to himself.
SIXTEEN
Thalia
MY HAIR IS A BLESSING IN DISGUISE.
It’s my best feature.
Many women would kill for a head of hair like mine.
Ah, but if only they knew how frustrating and hard it is to tame tight, spiral curls.
I stand in front of the mirror on Saturday evening, huffing and puffing like an enraged Chihuahua when curls spill out of the clip, refusing to stay where I want them. I’m aiming for a classy updo, but with enough hair to produce two, maybe even three wigs, the updo looks as if there’s a second, very hairy head on top of my existing one.
The hair clip flies across the room, and I revert to my standard, boring half-up, half-down hairdo to at least get the locks off my face and show off the not-too-flashy makeup. I settled for simplicity: eyeliner, mascara, and red lips. Modest and not too out there.
The dress is too out there, but I’m silently thankful to Shawn and Jack for choosing it. I want Theo toseeme the way he saw me this morning when we almost kissed.
That man drives me crazy. Wild. Raging with need whenever we touch. I’m more than certain he wants me, but for some mysterious reason, he’s holding back, and since I woke up in his arms, I’ve been pondering the idea of taking the first step.
Sometimes, you have to make it happen. Seize the opportunity or forever regret not trying. After all, when we’re nearing the end of our time in this world, when we’re old, lonely, and in pain, no longer ticking positions off our bucket list, we regret the things we didn’t do, not the ones we did.