Chapter 22
Penelope
Everything was fine.
I went inside and hung my purse on the hook by the door. At least the meeting with Sean was over. There was still the issue of my furniture and the other things I’d left behind, but now that I’d seen him—faced him and stood my ground—it didn’t seem so daunting.
Closure. Closure was good.
Unfortunately, I had the opposite of closure with Theo.
One fake kiss should not have sent my emotions into a tailspin. Sitting with him and talking—like friends—had helped. But the memory of his kiss remained, warm and visceral.
I went to the kitchen to meal prep for the week. I needed lunches, but more importantly, I needed to keep busy.
Theo’s truck pulled up outside and my stomach fluttered. It felt like middle school all over again. I’d had a crush on a boy named Peter. A very unrequited rush. He’d been an athlete—cute and popular. Me? Not so much. In those days, the cool jocks never went for the awkward nerd girls.
They probably didn’t when you were in your thirties, either.
I startled at the sound of the front door. Which was so silly. I’d heard him drive up. There was no reason for me to be surprised by his entrance.
He shut the door behind him and our eyes met. He smiled, displaying those irresistible dimples. It was a normal smile. Friendly. Like nothing had happened between us at the bar.
And really, nothing had. I needed to get that through my mind.
“Hey,” he said. “I realized when I got in my truck I was almost out of gas. Glad I noticed it before tomorrow morning.”
“An empty gas tank is never a fun surprise on a Monday morning.”
“What are you up to in there?” he asked as he wandered into the kitchen.
“Just meal prepping.”
His brow furrowed as his eyes moved across the counter. “What are you making?”
I glanced at the ingredients I’d pulled out. There was the chicken I’d already cooked. That made sense. But I’d also grabbed ketchup, a box of spaghetti, an orange, and a half gallon of milk.
How embarrassing.
“Um…” I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention. I forgot what I was looking for.”
A flash of worry crossed his features. I didn’t want him to know how much his kiss had flustered me, but it was probably too late for that.
“Do you need any help?” he asked.
“No, I’ve got it. Thanks, though.”
I started putting things back in the refrigerator. He hesitated for a moment, watching me, almost as if he wanted to say something.
Or kiss me again.
But no, that was just my imagination. He left the kitchen, disappearing down the hall to his bedroom.
He hadn’t kissed me because he wanted to. Because he was attracted to me. No, he’d done it to help me. It had been fake. Just pretend.
Friends. We were just friends.
With a deep breath, I went back to work on the chicken burrito bowls I’d been planning to make for the week. The familiar movements of chopping and mixing eased my jitters. By the time Theo came out of his bedroom, dressed in a clean T-shirt and plaid pajama pants, I was much less jumpy.
He paused in the kitchen doorway. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”
“Nope. Almost done.”
“Those look great.” He went to the refrigerator and got out some leftovers. “You keep spoiling me, though. I’m going to have to learn to make better lunches for myself. I can’t go back to boring sandwiches after this.”
The subtle reminder of his upcoming move felt like a pinprick.
A sharp one.
“It’s not difficult.” I tried to sound cheerful. “You just have to make time to do it.”
He warmed his leftovers in the microwave while I finished the burrito bowls with a sprinkling of chopped green onions. I put the lids on, and he took his dinner out and gave it a quick stir.
“Thanks again,” he said.
“For what?”
He hesitated, his eyes on mine. “Lunch.”
“Yeah, of course.”
I ran through the reasons that kiss had been fake—and couldn’t be anything but fake—while he took his dinner to the other room, and I put our lunches away and cleaned up.
Just friends. South Carolina. Just friends. South Carolina. Just friends.
South Carolina.
He turned on the TV and I joined him in the living room. I’d eaten with Grandma, so I wasn’t hungry, but it was too early to go to bed. I probably should have gone to my room to read or something, but his magnetism was too strong. Even though I knew I was making it harder on myself.
Eventually, I got too drowsy to stay up any longer. I went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. When I came out, Theo was nowhere to be seen. He must have gone to his room.
With a long exhale, I went to my bedroom and quietly shut the door.
It was almost November. That meant about seven months until he left. Seven months of living under the same roof. Of bedhead and tired morning smiles. Of quiet good nights and sleeping one room away. Of knowing that Theo Haven was the best guy I’d ever met, but we weren’t meant to be.
Hours later, I was still wide-awake, my thoughts a tangled mess. My body wasn’t helping, either. The heat of that kiss—that one stupid kiss—flowed through me like fire. I was restless, antsy, unsatisfied. And apparently not sleeping any time soon.
After tossing and turning for a while longer, trying to find a position that would enable me to finally relax, I gave up and threw off the covers. Maybe chamomile tea would help.
I got out of bed and felt around the side table for my glasses. Without bothering to turn on the light, I put them on and quietly opened the door.
Just as I was about to slip down the hallway to the kitchen, Theo’s door opened.
My heart jumped and I pressed myself against the wall, as if I could hide. He emerged with an uncharacteristic scowl on his face, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs.
My wide eyes were glued to the dusting of chest hair and the happy trail that disappeared beneath his waistband. He was muscular and toned without being so ripped that he didn’t look real. A flush hit my cheeks, and he didn’t move.
Slowly lifting my gaze to his face, I realized that, like him, I was hardly wearing anything. Just a tank top and shorts that left very little to the imagination.
“Sorry,” he said, averting his eyes. “I didn’t know you were up.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Don’t look down, Penelope. Don’t look at his—
Too late. I looked. And he was—
“Me neither,” he said.
The scant space of the hallway was between us, I kept my back pressed to the wall and he stood still, as if frozen to the spot.
I was about to start babbling something about chamomile tea and wishing I’d put on a robe, or at least a bra, but he spoke first.
“I want to kiss you again.”
It was so unexpected, I didn’t know what to say. I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
“I shouldn’t,” he continued. “Shouldn’t have before, either. But I can’t stop thinking about how good it felt.”
“Neither can I.”
He stepped forward, cutting the distance between us in half, and his eyes roved over me. The brush of silk against my skin made my body tingle and heat pooled in my core.
“Tell me no.” He moved closer.
My voice was barely above a whisper. “What if I don’t?”
He stepped into my space and slid one hand into my hair, the other around my waist. “Then I’m going to kiss you again.”
“I…” I hesitated. Was this actually happening? “I didn’t think…”
His fingertips massaged the back of my head. “Didn’t think what?”
“That you wanted me.”
“You don’t think I want you?” The hand on my waist slid down to cup my backside, and he pressed me against his hardness. When he spoke again, his voice was a low growl. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me. You drive me fucking crazy. So tell me no, Pen.”
“Yes.”
In one smooth motion, he tilted my head back and took my mouth with his. Gone was the softness and restraint of the kiss in the Timberbeast. He invaded my mouth with his tongue, pressing my body against his.
Opening for him, I kissed him back, melting against him as he devoured me. The pressure between my thighs built so fast, I wanted to jump up and wrap my legs around his waist. I whimpered into his mouth as his velvety tongue slid against mine, and his fingers dug into my backside.
Still holding me against him, he backed us into his bedroom. I was in too deep to worry about the consequences. Too far gone to think about tomorrow.
In seconds, our clothes were on the floor. He took the time to carefully remove my glasses and set them aside. Then his hands were all over me, sliding across my skin as he kissed me. His mouth moved to my jaw, down my neck, and I leaned my head back, moaning as his fingers slid between my legs.
“You’re already wet for me,” he growled in my ear.
I had no words. I was nothing but a tight ball of heat and pressure, ready to burst, and he’d hardly touched me.
He nudged me onto the bed and climbed on top of me. His tip brushed my center.
“Do I need something?” he asked.
“I have it covered.”
“Still yes?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Please.”
I moaned as he slid inside me, pleasure exploding through my entire body. His mouth found mine and he kissed me deeply as he thrust in and out, his hips driving me up the bed.
I’d never felt anything like it. His skin was hot against mine, his body relentless.
Pressure built as we moved together, and I clung to him, my fingers digging into his hard planes of muscle.
I hiked my legs up, opening to take him deeper, and recognized with a sense of awe that he was going to finish me.
Easily.
Holding on as if my life depended on it, I let him take me—let him have all of me. He owned every inch, and I didn’t want any of it back.
Our mouths separated and he lifted himself higher, looking down with hooded eyes and a slight curve of his lips, as if he liked what he saw. I felt so vulnerable, so exposed—and so safe, with no desire to hide.
He drove his hips harder, groaning with each thrust. I moaned and whimpered, draping my arms overhead, letting him have complete control of my body. The pressure built, almost to a breaking point, and he moved faster, as if he knew exactly what I needed.
His gaze was intense. Bracing himself over me with one hand, he grabbed my backside with the other and drove in so deep, my world exploded.
I burst into a thousand pieces, the pleasure so intense I cried out over and over as he thrust into me. His brow furrowed, and with a deep growl, he started to come, sending my climax to new heights. One orgasm drew into another until I was panting and whimpering with his rhythmic motion.
Finally, he slowed and came to a stop, lowering himself so his body draped over mine. I wrapped my arms around him, breathing hard, and felt his chest rise and fall against me. I was dazed—overwhelmed. I’d never experienced anything like it before.
I’d never known sex could be so incredible.
He nuzzled into my neck, brushing soft kisses across my skin. I ran my hand through his hair, relishing the feel of his body on mine. For long moments, we lay there together, and I drifted in bliss, enveloped in his scent, wishing it could last forever.
It couldn’t. But I wasn’t ready to face that yet.
Eventually, he rolled off me, and I turned onto my side. We were close enough that I could see his face without my glasses. His eyes were sleepy—half closed—and his mouth turned up in a subtle smile. He leaned closer and kissed me again.
I was so relaxed, but I needed to clean up.
And I wasn’t sure if I should stay or go back to my own bed.
I wondered if he would say something, but his eyes closed.
He reached out to caress me gently as I slipped out of bed and put on my glasses, and although he opened his eyes and smiled again, he didn’t say anything.
I went into his bathroom and took care of necessities.
When I came out, he looked like he was asleep.
I thought about climbing back into bed with him—curling up with Theo all night sounded wonderful—but I hesitated.
It wasn’t that I thought he would mind. He probably wouldn’t. But was staying all night a good idea?
It was probably better if I went to bed in my own room. In one night, he’d given me the best kiss of my life and the best sex of my life. That was going to be a lot to grapple with in the morning. A little distance might help me process.
Because I knew this didn’t change anything. Theo and I were still just friends, and he was still moving away. And whatever happened next, I needed to keep my heart out of it.
But I wasn’t sure that I could.