13. Theo
Chapter 13
Theo
T he weight of Skylar's body against my chest is a comfort I never want to go away. Her skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat, our ragged breaths slowly returning to normal in the dim light of her bedroom. The scent of sex and her jasmine perfume hangs heavy in the air.
I never want to leave. But I know my time is limited.
I can't resist trailing my fingertips along the smooth expanse of her thigh, relishing this rare moment when she allows my touch to linger. It's only in these post-orgasmic moments that her walls come down, if only slightly.
I want to love her with everything I am, everything I have, for the rest of our long lives. She wants to keep me at arm’s length and use our shared past to justify it.
"You're thinking too loudly," Skylar murmurs against my skin, her voice husky.
I chuckle softly. "Just enjoying the moment, Skylark."
She shifts, propping herself up on an elbow to look at me. Those hazel eyes, usually so guarded, are soft now. "Don't get used to it," she says, but there's no real bite to her words.
"Wouldn't dream of it," I reply, my hand still tracing lazy patterns on her skin. I want to memorize every curve, every freckle. "Although, a guy could get addicted to this view."
Skylar rolls her eyes, but I catch the hint of a smile. "Smooth talker."
"Only for you," I say, meaning it more than she'll ever know.
She leans in, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think she might kiss me. But she stops just short, her breath warm on my lips. "You know the rules, Theo."
I nod, even as my heart aches. "I know." I'd give anything to close that distance, to feel her lips on mine again after all these years. She let me that first time. I think it was the shock, honestly. Because she hasn’t even considered it since. No matter how desperately I want that connection with her. But I won't push. I can't risk losing what little of her I have.
Instead, I pull her closer, savoring the feel of her body against mine. These stolen moments are all I have, and I'll take whatever she's willing to give.
As I hold Skylar close, the familiar gnawing sensation in my gut intensifies. This isn't healthy, this desperate addiction to a woman who keeps me at arm's length. But how can I blame her? Our parents may have torn us apart, but I didn't exactly fight for us, did I? I accepted our fate, let the distance grow between us.
And, while I was building my world, Skylar’s was falling apart piece by piece. She lost her grandmother, the one person who truly cared for her, not as a trophy or a prop, but as a person. Then her mother. And just when it seemed like she didn’t have anything else to lose, her father remarried some gold-digging bitch who swept in and took everything. Suddenly, Skylar went from a promising college student with a future to a broke, disinherited outsider, cast aside like she never mattered at all.
My pretty little Skylark was never meant to be caged, yet life has clipped her wings at every turn.
"What are you thinking about?" Skylar's voice breaks through my reverie.
I look down at her, drinking in every detail. The way she bites her lower lip, a habit I've noticed she does when she's concentrating. "Just...us," I admit softly.
She tenses slightly, but doesn't pull away. "Theo..."
"I know, I know," I say quickly. "No strings, no expectations. But can you blame a guy for reminiscing?"
Her laugh is brief but genuine, softening the edges of my world. "I suppose not. We did have some good times, didn't we?"
I nod, remembering stolen kisses and whispered promises. "The best."
She falls silent, her gaze darting away from mine. It's something I've noticed she does often, never lingering too long in anyone's gaze, as if afraid of what they might see.
"Hey," I say gently, tipping her chin up. "You okay?"
For a moment, I see a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. But then it's gone. "I'm naked in bed with a billionaire tech genius. Why wouldn't I be okay?"
I can't help but laugh. "Well, when you put it like that..."
"You know," I start casually, "I think I heard a strange noise coming from your bathroom sink earlier. Want me to take a look?"
Skylar arches an eyebrow, her lips curving into a knowing smirk. "My sink is fine, Theo."
"Are you sure? Because I'm pretty handy with a wrench," I insist, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her arm. "Or maybe your Wi-Fi needs an upgrade? I could boost your signal."
She laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out. "My Wi-Fi is perfect, as you well know. You set it up yourself last week, remember?"
I shrug, feigning innocence. "Just being thorough."
Skylar sits up, pulling the sheet around her. "You don't need excuses to be here, you know."
Her words should be reassuring, but I catch the hint of unease in her tone. Because it’s not the truth. I do need excuses. She only lets me in here for late-night trysts, and I want so, so much more.
I watch as she subtly puts more distance between us, her walls going up brick by brick.
"Don't I?" I ask softly, unable to keep the longing from my voice.
She looks away, that telltale lip bite making an appearance. "Theo, we talked about this. It's just—"
"Complicated," I finish for her. "I know."
I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She flinches slightly, and it's like a dagger to my heart. But it only makes me want to push harder, to break through those defenses she's built so carefully.
"Sky," I whisper. "Look at me."
When she does, I see a storm of emotions in her eyes—desire, fear, longing. She's buried so deep in my soul, I know I'll never get her out. And I don't want to.
But she doesn’t want to be there. And it fucking hurts .
I open my mouth to speak, but before I can, Skylar's pulling away. She rises from the bed, grabbing a T-shirt from the floor and slipping it over her head in one fluid motion. My eyes can't help but follow the curve of her body, lingering on the wet, glistening trail down her thigh.
"I need to clean up," she says, her voice clipped and businesslike.
I nod, knowing the routine. "Of course."
As she disappears into the bathroom, I sit up, running a hand over my jaw. The sound of running water fills the silence, and I can't help but wonder if she's washing away more than just the physical evidence of our encounter.
"You don't have to go," she calls out, but we both know it's just a formality.
I start collecting my clothes, scattered around the room like breadcrumbs of our passion. "It's late," I reply, pulling on my jeans. "I should head back."
When she emerges, her face is scrubbed clean, her hair pulled back. She looks younger, more vulnerable, and it takes everything in me not to pull her back into my arms.
"Theo," she starts, her voice soft. "This isn't—"
"I know," I cut her off, not wanting to hear the rest. Not tonight. "It's okay, Sky. Really."
She nods, relief and something else—regret, maybe?—flashing across her face. I head for the door, pausing with my hand on the knob. "Goodnight, Skylark."
"Goodnight," she whispers.
As I step out into the cool night air, I can't help but feel like I'm leaving a piece of myself behind. With a heavy sigh, I begin the short walk back to the house, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.
I pause at the door, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Skylar's scent still clings to my skin, a bittersweet reminder of what I can have but never truly possess.
"She needs time," I mutter to myself, drawing in a deep breath. "We can't rush this."
As I push open the door, the rich aroma of aged whiskey greets me, mingling with the tension that immediately thickens the air. Cohen and Austin are lounging in the living room, their postures deceptively casual. The amber liquid in their crystal tumblers catches the low light, glinting like accusatory eyes.
"Late night?" Cohen asks, his tone light but his gaze sharp.
I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. "Lost track of time."
Austin snorts, taking a long sip of his drink. The muscle in his jaw twitches, a telltale sign of his tightly leashed emotions.
"I'm sure you did," he mutters, not quite under his breath.
I move to the bar, pouring myself a generous measure of whiskey. The burn as I swallow matches the heat of their stares on my back.
"Look," I start, turning to face them. "I know this is...complicated."
Cohen raises an eyebrow. "That's one word for it."
The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken accusations and shared desire. I can see it in their eyes—the same longing that consumes me. They don’t have the history, but the need is there just the same. It should make me jealous, possessive. Instead, it feels like recognition of a fundamental truth.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I'm about to say. "Look, I know we've all been dancing around this, but we need to talk about Skylar."
Cohen's eyes light up with hope, while Austin's entire body tenses, his jaw clenching visibly. The contrast between their reactions is stark, mirroring the conflicting emotions I feel churning inside me.
"What about her?" Austin's voice is low, dangerous.
I press on, despite the warning in his tone. "We can't keep pretending there isn't something going on. Something that affects all of us."
Austin's nostrils flare, his blue eyes flashing with anger. "I don't want to hear about how you're sticking your dick in the temporary nanny, Theo. Some things are better left unsaid."
His words hit me like a physical blow, igniting a fury I didn't know I was capable of. I'm on my feet in an instant, fists clenched at my sides.
"Don't you dare talk about her like that," I snarl, my voice trembling with rage. "She's not some object, Austin. She's not just a warm body or a convenient fuck."
The room goes deathly quiet. I can feel Cohen and Austin's eyes on me, shock evident in their expressions. But I can't bring myself to care. All I can think about is Skylar—her laugh, her smile, the way she makes me feel whole for the first time in years. The same way she did back then. She's my missing piece.
"She's everything," I repeat, softer this time, more to myself than to them. "And she deserves better than to be reduced to a crude joke or a temporary arrangement."
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. My gaze shifts between Austin and Cohen. It's time to lay all our cards on the table.
"I'm not blind," I say, my voice low but steady. "I see the way you both look at her. The way she looks at you."
Cohen shifts in his seat, his fingers tightening around his glass. Austin remains still as a statue, but I can see the muscle working in his cheek.
"We all want her," I say softly, the whiskey loosening my tongue. "And I think...I think she wants us, too. In her own way."
Cohen leans forward, his eyes intense. "What are you saying, Theo?"
I drain my glass, the alcohol burning a path of liquid courage through my veins. "I'm saying she hides from this, from me, from anything real. But, maybe…maybe if it’s not just the two of us, maybe if it’s all of us, she’ll be able to relax, to trust this, us.”
"I see what’s brewing. And I'm tired of pretending it isn't happening," I continue. "We've always shared everything, haven't we? Our house, our business, our lives."
I pause, my heart pounding so hard I'm sure they can hear it. This is it. The moment that could change everything.
"Why not share a woman?"
The words hang in the air, heavy with possibility. Austin's eyes widen, a mix of shock and something else flashing across his face. Cohen leans forward, his expression unreadable.
I hold my breath, waiting for their reaction. Part of me can't believe I've actually suggested this. But another part, a deeper part, knows it feels right. Skylar isn't just mine. She never has been. She's a force of nature, too big, too bright to belong to just one person.
"Are you serious?" Cohen finally breaks the silence, his voice rough with emotion.
I nod, meeting his gaze. "Dead serious."
The tension in the room shifts, crackling with new possibilities. As I watch their expressions change from shock to contemplation, I realize we're standing on the edge of something profound—something that could change everything.
I set my empty glass down, the crystal clinking against the mahogany side table. The sound echoes in the loaded silence of the room.
"You can't be serious," Austin finally says, his voice a mix of disbelief and something darker, hungrier.
I shrug, aiming for nonchalance even as my heart races. "Why not? It wouldn't be the first time we've shared."
Cohen shifts in his seat, his eyes distant. I can almost see the memories flickering behind them—hazy nights in college, tangled limbs, and shared laughter. He is the one who brought up sharing Skylar. I know he can see it with her just as clearly as I can.
Even if the tension between them is different, colder. Even if he hasn’t made any kind of move yet.
"This is different," he murmurs. "Skylar's not some random hookup."
"No," I agree, my voice soft but firm. "She's absolutely not."
Austin snorts, but I catch the flash of vulnerability in his eyes. "And you're okay with that? Sharing 'everything'?"
I lean back, considering. "It's not about being okay with it. It's about accepting what is. We all want her. She wants us. Why fight it?"
"Because it's too fucking complicated, that's why," Austin growls.
I nod, acknowledging the truth in his words. "Life's complicated. Doesn't mean we can't make it work."
Cohen's quiet voice cuts through the tension. "And what about Skylar? Have you asked what she wants?"
The question hits me like a punch to the gut. Because the truth is, I haven't. I've been too afraid of her answer, too scared of pushing her away completely.
"No," I admit. "But I think...I think she needs all of us. In different ways."
The room falls silent again, each of us lost in our own thoughts, our own desires. I can't help but wonder what Skylar would say if she could see us now, plotting and planning like she's some prize to be won.
But that's not what this is. It's about giving her— giving all of us—the freedom to explore something that feels inevitable.
“I’m not walking away from her. And I’m not giving up.” I swirl the amber liquid in my glass, watching the light catch on its surface. "Skylar isn't some fleeting thing, guys. She's not temporary, and she's definitely not a toy." My voice grows soft, almost reverent. "She's my forever. But maybe...maybe she could be ours too."
Cohen leans forward, his blue eyes intense. "That's a big leap, Theo. Are you sure you've thought this through?"
I chuckle, but there's no humor in it. "It's all I've been thinking about."
Austin paces near the window, his body taut with tension. "This will never work. The two of you will fight. You’ll want to own her. Sharing a quick fuck is one thing. You’re talking about sharing an entire relationship."
“And you’re talking like you’re not included in this. The only person you’re bullshitting is yourself. It’s inevitable, Austin. Don’t even try to fucking deny it.”
But it could. I think about all the late nights brainstorming business ideas, supporting them through failed relationships, celebrating victories both big and small. We've been through it all together.
"Look at us," I say, gesturing around the room. "We've built an empire together, navigated personal shit that would've torn most friendships apart. Hell, we’ve even managed to live together without killing each other."
Cohen snorts at that, a small smile tugging at his lips.
I continue, my voice gaining strength. "If anyone can make this work, it's us. We've always had each other's backs. Why should this be any different?"
Austin stops pacing, his expression conflicted. "It's not that simple, Theo. Skylar isn't just another business venture."
"No," I agree, meeting his gaze. "She's so much more. Which is exactly why we need to approach this together. United."
The room falls silent as we each contemplate the weight of what I'm proposing. It's unconventional as fuck, maybe even crazy.
Austin starts pacing the room again. His controlled facade is cracking, revealing the turmoil beneath. "This is insane," he mutters. "She's not...we can't just..."
"Why not?" I challenge, watching him closely. "Tell me you don't want her, Austin. Look me in the eye and say you haven't thought about it."
He stops, turning to face me. For a moment, I see a glimpse of the raw need he's been trying so hard to hide. It mirrors my own, and I know—we're all in deeper than we ever expected.
“No.” There’s a finality in his tone, but we both know it’s a fucking lie. He wants her. He just doesn’t want to want her.
“You’re going to crack. It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow, but you are going to crack. You want her just as badly as Cohen.”
“You’re so willing to share this woman you love? The one that got away? Love of your life ripped from you too soon, and now you finally have a second chance, and you want to throw her at me and Cohen, too?” He laughs humorlessly. “Nah, I don’t think so, Theo.”
“She was never meant to be caged, Austin. That girl has been through hell and she has survived, thrived even. She deserves all the love and affection. All of it. And so do you two. Your ex-wives are life-sucking demons. Skylar is…she’s sunshine and freedom.
Austin’s jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "And you think the answer is splitting her between us? You think that’s what she deserves? To be passed around like some...some consolation prize?"
"Stop being so damn reductive," I snap, my patience wearing thin. "This isn’t about ownership or taking turns. This is about her choosing what she wants—who she wants—and not being shackled by anyone’s expectations. Not yours, not mine, not Cohen’s."
Austin exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. His pacing slows, but his agitation simmers just below the surface. "You just said she hides from what the two of you have. And we’re supposed to throw all this at her, expecting her to just...what? Embrace it?"
“She’ll come to us when she’s ready,” I say firmly. “But she can’t do that if we’re too busy tripping over our own damn insecurities. Do you want her or not, Austin?”
He glares at me, the intensity in his eyes almost enough to make me back down. Almost. "Not."
"Bullshit. You're not fooling anyone—not me, not Cohen, not yourself, and definitely not Skylar. You think she doesn’t notice the way you look at her? She’s not blind, Austin. And she’s not stupid.”
Austin’s face softens for a moment, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. His shoulders slump slightly, the fight draining out of him. "She deserves better than us," he mutters. "Better than this...mess."
"Maybe she does," I admit. "But we’re what she’s got. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that we’d move heaven and earth to give her the world. All three of us. You can’t tell me that isn’t better than what she’s had before."
Austin sinks into a chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he buries his face in his hands. "It’s a disaster waiting to happen," he says, his voice muffled.
“Maybe,” I concede. “But it might also be the only thing that’s ever made sense.”