I’m done waiting for Theo to make a move.
I need him.
I want him.
And I’m ready to find out if we’re on the same page because the tension is too much. He has no idea I felt his lips on my nape last night when he thought I fell asleep. He doesn’t know I felt his thumb caress my cheek or how he kept pulling me closer, kissing my shoulder every time.
He doesn’t know I’m secretly falling in love with him.
And I don’t think he realizes how much he cares about me.
My hair is wet when I emerge from the guest bedroom’s en suite, sticking to my neck. The tops of my boobs peek above the neckline of my short, blue summer dress.
Theo leans against the door, a phone in hand. He tucks it away, widening pupils wandering down my body. “Morning, sleepy head. I was starting to worry you fell into a coma.”
My heart leaps out of my chest, but I cross the room to stop right before him. Slowly, I move my hands to the belt loops of his jeans, pushing my fingers under the hem of his t-shirt, up the sides of his hot body. The air around us thickens, hanging heavy, too hot to inhale. His eyes don’t veer from mine as my heart pounds in my chest, matching his hastened pulse I feel under my fingertips.
“I don’t want to be yourfriendanymore,” I say quietly.
He grips my waist, yanking me closer with a shotgun-wedding urgency. “Kiss me,” he rasps in a low voice that sends tingles along my spine.
I know what he’s doing.
He’s coaxing a nonverbal consent, a confirmation that we want the same thing, that he’s not misinterpreting my words or body language.
I inch closer, removing my hands from under his t-shirt, our mouths millimeters apart. “If you want a kiss, you’ll have to take it.” I touch his shoulders, moving my lips to his ear. “I’m still not wearing panties.”
Theo spins us around and shoves me against the door. “That better not be true.” He digs his fingers into my waist, then glides his hand to my hips and inhales a shaky breath, touching the spot where the elastic of my panties should be, but isn’t. “You’ve got no idea what you started.”
“I flipped the safety on a loaded gun.” I bite my lip, inching back. “Pull the trigger, Theo.”
“Hold on...” He grips my jaw, bringing his lips to hover over mine, “...hold on very fucking tight,omorfiá.”
His fingers weave through my hair, and his mouth covers mine, tongue slipping in fast. As soon as he touches me, my mind races into a trance-like state of bliss. I knew this would be amazing, but imagination can’t rival reality. My traitorous body trembles in his arms, and Theo deepens the kiss, nibbling on my lips, tasting me over and over again.
I cinch his shoulders when he sweeps his fingers from my temple, down my neck, past the swell of my breast and lower, tracing the curve of my hip. “If I knew this is what I was missing out on, I would’ve dared you to kiss me sooner.”
He smirks, cupping my face and kisses me again, his tongue exploring my mouth in a sensual, rushed rhythm. The softness and fulness of his lips contradicts the demanding tempo of our mouths battling for dominance, battling to prove who wants the other more. My stomach cramps and tingles as he presses his whole body into mine.
“I can’t believe I fought this so long.” He cuffs my wrists and moves my hands to rest on his head, silently asking me to force him to his knees. “I’ve imagined this too fucking long.”
I take a wider stance, the anticipation like milky fog in my head as I put a bit of pressure on Theo’s head. He kneels and yanks the dress to my waist, hooking my knee over his shoulder.
His forehead rests against my abdomen, hot breath tickling me as he nips the skin directly atop my pubic bone. He inhales deeply, breathing me in and driving me wild when his fingers disappear in the flesh of my hips. God, this is the most sensually erotic thing anyone has ever done to me. He savors every second as if he’s been living in an apocalyptic world all alone and I’m the first dose of humanity he’s encountered in years.
And then, without warning, his lips latch onto my clit, tearing a breathless moan out of my mouth. My eyes roll back into my head when he flicks his tongue over the sensitive, neglected bud before he licks me from bottom to top, groaning quietly as if he finally got what he wanted.
“So wet for me,” he whispers, pushing his middle finger inside, and I almost faint when he bends it in acome heremotion.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp, tugging on his hair. “Don’t you dare... oh,God...”
“Shhhhh, little one, you have to be quiet.”
His ring finger joins the action, stroking me gently in a torturous, slow rhythm that’s the exact opposite of the frantic sucking and licking he inflicts with his hot mouth—a sensory overload. A mixture of slow and fast, gentle and rough.
My mind can’t keep up, but my body takes what he offers and demands more. The orgasm builds fast, pleasure so intense there’s no doubt in my mind the release will be spectacularly violent. I bring one hand to my lips, biting my hand to keep the moans at bay, but it’s pointless.
I’ve never been the one to hold off. Keeping quiet goes against my instincts. After twenty months of pleasuring myself with a silicone cock, a real man’s touch,histouch has me poised on the verge inside of two minutes.