Filthy Rich Single Daddies (Filthy Rich Harems #2)

7. Skylar

Chapter 7

Skylar

T he key slides into the lock with a satisfying click as I push open the door to the carriage house. The silence inside is a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in my mind.

It’s a miracle I even made it back here in one semi-sane piece. As soon as I’m inside, I lean against the cool wall, letting out a long breath I didn't realize I was holding.

What the actual hell just happened?

I stumble to the kitchen, my legs feeling like jelly. The cabinets mock me with their emptiness as I search for something—anything—to take the edge off. Finally, I spot it: a dusty bottle of red wine tucked away in the corner. I would love something much, much stronger, but it looks like this is all I have. It'll have to do.

As I wrestle with the cork, my thoughts drift back to the meeting. Austin's stern face, Cohen's sheepish grin, and Theo...God, Theo. The cork pops free, startling me out of my reverie.

"Get it together, Skylar," I mutter, pouring a generous glass.

The wine is bitter on my tongue, but I welcome the burn. I collapse onto the plush couch, kicking off my shoes and curling my legs beneath me. The fabric is soft against my skin, a small comfort in this mess I've found myself in.

"So, let me get this straight," I say to the empty room, swirling the wine in my glass. "I'm now working for my ex-boyfriend's best friend, and his brother, who also happens to be the guy I had a wild weekend with in Vegas." I take another sip, wincing at the taste. "Oh, and did I mention said ex-boyfriend—the one who randomly reappeared and rocked my entire world down to its foundation—lives next door? With my new employers. Fucking fantastic."

The weight of the situation settles over me like a heavy blanket. I close my eyes, willing the world to make sense again. But all I can see is Theo's face—those intense green eyes that used to look at me with such adoration, which is now clouded by the years that have passed.

"This is fine," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Everything's fine. I'll just pretend I don't know any of them. Professional boundaries and all that jazz."

But even as the words leave my lips, I know it's impossible. The history between us is too tangled, too raw. At least Cohen doesn’t seem to remember that mind-blowing weekend. That hurts like hell but it makes my life easier. I take another swig of wine, grimacing at the taste. It's going to be a long night of sorting through these thoughts.

"Well, Skylar," I mutter to myself, "you love a good fresh start. Congratulations, you've got yourself one hell of a complicated mess instead."

A sharp knock at the door jolts me from my wine-induced pity party. My heart skips a beat as I catch a glimpse of familiar tousled brown curls through the window.

Theo.

I freeze, wine glass halfway to my lips. Part of me wants to pretend I'm not home, to close the curtains and hide from the complications he represents. But my traitorous feet are already moving toward the door.

"Come on, Skylark," his muffled voice carries through the wood. "I know you're in there."

I hesitate, hand on the doorknob. Opening this door means opening a Pandora's box of emotions I'm not sure I'm ready to face. But the nickname tugs at something deep inside me, a reminder of lazy summer days and stolen kisses. Of how he used to tell me I was never meant to be caged.

"Dammit," I mutter, yanking the door open just wide enough for him to slip inside.

Theo's eyes light up as he sees me, a crooked smile playing on his lips. "Hey," he says softly, running a hand through his hair. "I, uh...I owe you an apology."

I cross my arms, trying to ignore how good he looks in his well-fitted jeans and casual button-down. "For what? Not mentioning you lived next door when you appeared at my door last night? Or for the fact that you're besties with my new boss?"

He winces. "Both? Look, Skylar, I'm sorry. I should have said something."

“Before or after you were buried inside me?”

“Skylark…”

I want to be angry. I want to unleash all the frustration and confusion of the day on him. But exhaustion wins out, and I find myself sighing instead. "I'm too tired to be mad right now, Theo. It's been...a day."

"I can imagine," he says, his green eyes searching my face. "Can we talk? I promise I'll explain everything."

I hesitate, knowing I should send him away. But the familiar warmth of his presence is already seeping into my bones, making me yearn for the connection we once had. Against my better judgment, I step back, allowing him fully into my space.

"Fine," I concede, "but this doesn't change anything. We can't just pick up where we left off."

Theo nods, a mix of relief and something else—hope, maybe?—flashing across his features. "I know. I just...I've missed you, Skylark."

The nickname sends a shiver down my spine, and I turn away to hide the effect he still has on me. "Let's just talk," I say, leading him towards the couch. "And maybe you can explain how I've managed to land smack in the middle of what feels like a soap opera plot."

I flop back onto the couch, my body sinking into the cushions as if they could swallow me whole. The wine bottle sits temptingly on the coffee table, and I reach for it, foregoing any pretense of civility. As I take a long swig directly from the bottle, I catch Theo's wince from the corner of my eye.

"That bad, huh?" he asks, his voice a mixture of concern and amusement.

I lower the bottle, letting out a sardonic laugh. "You have no idea."

Theo settles onto the opposite end of the couch, his body angled toward me. The familiar scent of his cologne wafts over, stirring memories I've tried hard to bury. I push them aside, focusing on the present.

"Look, Sky," he begins, running a hand through his tousled brown curls. "I know this situation with the kids complicates things, but...I still want you. Please, don't end this now when I've only just found you again."

His words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication. I take another sip of wine, buying time as I process the emotions swirling inside me. Part of me wants to leap into his arms, to reclaim what we once had. But the walls I've built around my heart stand firm.

"Theo," I say, my voice coming out harsher than intended. "You can't just waltz back into my life and expect everything to be the same. Do you have any idea what I've been through?"

He leans forward, his green eyes intense. "Tell me, Sky. Help me understand."

I sigh, flopping back against the cushions. "First, explain something to me. How the hell did you end up living next door with tweedle-asshole and his brother tweedle-oblivious?"

Theo's lips twitch at my nicknames, a ghost of a smile appearing. "It's...complicated," he begins.

"I've got time," I retort, gesturing with the wine bottle. "And plenty of liquid courage. So spill, Shepherd. How did you end up playing house with the billionaire brothers?"

Theo runs his knuckles along his stubbled jaw, a nervous habit I remember all too well. "It started at boarding school," he begins, his voice soft with reminiscence. "The one my parents shipped me off to after...well, after us."

The memory stings, and I take another swig of wine to dull the pain.

"Austin and Cohen were there too. We weren't close at first, but we found common ground. After graduation, we ended up at the same college, and that's when things really clicked. We became inseparable."

I raise an eyebrow. "Inseparable? That's not the Theo I remember."

He shrugs, a rueful smile playing on his lips. "People change, Sky. We all did. After college, we started a business together. When they decided to live together post-divorce, it just...made sense for me to join them."

I process this information, trying to reconcile the Theo I knew with this new version. "So you're what, the three musketeers now?"

"Something like that," he chuckles, then his expression turns serious. "But Sky, none of that changes how I feel about you. Seeing you again...it's like no time has passed at all."

But time has passed. So much time. Time in which he never once looked for me. The only reason he’s here now is because I almost literally fell into his lap. My heart races, old emotions bubbling to the surface. I want to give in, to lose myself in those green eyes and gentle hands. But the scars run deep.

"Theo, I can't..." I start, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't go back to what we were. Too much has happened. I'm not that girl anymore."

The hurt in his eyes is palpable, like I'm breaking his heart into a million tiny pieces. I can't bear to see him in pain, so I add, "It can't be more than sex, Theo. That's all I can offer."

His gaze intensifies, a mix of desire and determination. "I'll take whatever you're willing to give, Skylark. As long as it means I get to be with you again."

I swallow hard, wondering if I've just made a terrible mistake or the best decision of my life.

Theo leans in, his breath warm against my cheek. I press my hand against his chest, feeling his heart thundering beneath my palm. "Wait," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "There are rules."

His eyes search mine, a flicker of hurt still visible beneath the heat. "Rules?"

I nod, steeling myself. "No kissing. No sleeping over. No dates." I take a deep breath, willing my voice not to waver. "Nothing between us during the day. You can come to the carriage house at night or on weekends. That's it."

Theo's jaw clenches, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he says softly, "I'll take whatever you're willing to give me, Skylark."

Every time he says that nickname, it sends a jolt through me, memories of whispered promises and stolen moments flooding back. I push them away, reminding myself why I need these boundaries.

"I mean it, Theo," I insist, more to convince myself than him. "This can't be more than physical."

He nods, but there's a determination in his eyes that makes me uneasy. "I understand."

I want to believe him, want to trust that he'll respect my limits. But a voice in my head whispers that I'm playing with fire. Because the truth is, I'm willing to give him everything—and that terrifies me.

"You say that now," I mutter, more to myself than to him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Theo asks, his brow furrowing.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "It means I've been burned before, Theo. More times than I care to count. And I don't..." I trail off, struggling to find the right words.

"You don't trust me to stick around," he finishes, his voice tinged with sadness.

I meet his gaze, seeing the hurt there, but I can't bring myself to deny it. "Can you blame me?"

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "So, are we in agreement? About the rules?"

Theo's eyes darken, a mix of resignation and desire swirling in their green depths. "Yes, we're in agreement."

Relief floods through me, but it's quickly overshadowed by a surge of heat as Theo leans in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Now, can we seal the deal with a kiss?"

My body tenses, ready to push him away. "I said no kissing, Theo. That was one of the—"

"I know," he interrupts, a feral smile spreading across his face. "I didn't mean those lips."

My breath catches as his meaning sinks in. Theo reaches for the wine bottle, setting it carefully on the table. The deliberate movement sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

I watch, frozen, as Theo kneels before me. His fingers trail up my legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "May I?" he asks, his hands hovering at the waistband of my shorts.

Unable to form words, I nod. In one fluid motion, he peels the shorts down my legs, tossing them aside. The cool air hits my exposed skin, but it's nothing compared to the heat of Theo's gaze.

Without warning, he buries his face between my thighs. The first swipe of his tongue has me crying out, my hips bucking involuntarily. "Theo!" I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair.

He hums against me, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through my body. Then he nips at my inner thigh—that familiar, delicious bite that he knows I love.

God, how does he still remember? The thought flits through my mind before dissolving into pure sensation as Theo's mouth closes over my clit.

I'm lost in a haze of pleasure when Theo pulls back, his fingers replacing his tongue. He runs them through my soaking folds before plunging two deep inside me. I arch my back, a cry escaping my lips.

"Still so responsive," Theo murmurs, his voice husky. He pumps his fingers in and out, his thumb circling my clit. "I've missed this. Missed you."

His words send a pang through my chest, but I push it aside. This is just sex , I remind myself. Nothing more.

Theo's lips trail a path of kisses up my body—my thighs, my hips, my stomach. Each touch ignites a new spark of desire. When he returns his attention to my center, I'm trembling with need.

"Theo, please," I whimper, not caring how desperate I sound.

He focuses on my clit, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and quick flicks that have my eyes rolling back in my head. The pressure builds, a familiar tightening in my core.

"That's it, baby," Theo encourages. "Let go for me."

His words are my undoing. I come hard, crying out as waves of pleasure crash over me. Theo doesn't let up, drawing out my orgasm until I'm a quivering mess.

As I catch my breath, I tug at my top. "Get undressed," I command, peeling the fabric over my head.

Theo doesn't hesitate, stripping efficiently. My eyes are drawn to his cock—long, veiny, the head an angry purple and already weeping with anticipation.

I lean forward, unable to resist a taste. My tongue darts out to lick the tip, savoring his sharp intake of breath.

"Are you going to be a good boy and follow the rules?" I ask, looking up at him through my lashes.

A growl rumbles deep in Theo's chest, his eyes flashing with primal hunger. In an instant, he's on me, tackling me back into the couch cushions. His face buries in my neck, hot breath fanning across my skin as he pushes himself inside me in one swift thrust.

I gasp, overwhelmed by the sudden fullness. Theo doesn't even take time to get fully situated—one knee up on the couch, one foot planted on the floor—before he starts moving. The position is awkward, but the friction is delicious.

"God, Skylark," he groans, voice muffled against my throat. "You feel incredible."

"Deeper," I demand, arching my back to change the angle. "I need you deeper."

Theo obliges, shifting his hips to drive into me with renewed vigor. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure radiating through my body.

"Harder," I pant, digging my nails into his shoulders. "Don't hold back."

He bites down on my shoulder, not quite hard enough to break the skin, but enough to send a jolt of exquisite pain-pleasure straight to my core. His hips snap forward with increased force, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

Just as I'm nearing the edge again, Theo suddenly pulls out. Before I can protest, he flips me over, manhandling me onto my hands and knees. I barely have time to catch my breath before he's plunging back inside, somehow even deeper than before.

"Fuck," I moan, dropping my head between my arms. "Just like that, don't stop."

"Still like it rough?" Theo's voice is husky, laced with a hint of challenge.

I manage a shaky nod, my body trembling with need. I can't fully suppress my next moan as Theo hits that perfect spot inside me. My thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind, leaving me unable to form coherent words.

"Good," he growls, his approval sending a shiver down my spine.

Suddenly, his hand tangles in my hair, gripping tightly but not painfully. His other hand finds my hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. The dual sensations ground me, heightening every nerve ending.

Theo starts moving again, but this time it's different. Gone is any semblance of gentleness or restraint. He fucks me like a man possessed, each thrust deep and brutally hard. The pace is punishing, bordering on feral.

I gasp, struggling to catch my breath. "Oh God, Theo..."

He doesn't respond with words. Instead, I feel pressure between my shoulder blades as he pushes me down. My chest and stomach press into the couch cushions, changing the angle once more. The new position leaves me completely at his mercy, and a thrill runs through me at the realization.

Theo keeps up his relentless pace, never faltering. His lips find the nape of my neck, pressing heated kisses there before trailing down my spine. Each brush of his lips is punctuated by a particularly deep thrust, making me whimper.

"You're perfect," he murmurs against my skin. "So fucking perfect."

I close my eyes, losing myself in the sensations. For this moment, nothing else matters—not our complicated history, not my new job, not the mess we're undoubtedly creating. There's only Theo, me, and the fire building between us.

"Mine. Say you're mine," he growls, his voice low and guttural, filled with a primal need I've never heard from him before.

"Theo..." I whimper, arching my back to meet his thrusts.

"You've always been mine," he responds, slowing his movements to a torturous pace. “Say it, baby.”

I can't help it; I whine in frustration.

That earns me a stinging slap on my ass. Electricity radiates from the point of impact, fueling the inferno building inside me.

"Say it."

"F-fuck you," I manage through clenched teeth, trying to regain some semblance of control.

Another smack, this time harder. My backside burns, but my core clenches around him, desperate for more.

"That's right, baby," he pants, and then he's fucking me again, driving us both to the edge of sanity.

"Theo," I pant, my orgasm barreling down on me like a freight train.

He doesn't break in his rhythm, however. If anything, he picks up the pace, ramming into me with a single-minded focus.

"Say. It."

"Y-yours," I manage, panting and breathless.

That's all he needs. He curses and picks up the pace even more, slamming into me mercilessly until we both shatter, my walls clenching around him as we both come undone.

He collapses on top of me, his chest heaving as we both catch our breath. Slowly, he pulls out and watches, dazed, as his cum drips from my swollen sex. I'd forgotten how much he'd always liked that.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?