Chapter 17
17
“Where?”
“Theodore.”
“Where?” he repeats, voice low.
In the stretch of silence that follows, their eye contact doesn’t break. Evie wonders if this is another lapse of judgment that they’ll spend the next five years not talking about. Just like the first, last, only other time she climbed onto her best friend’s lap in a moment of weakness. Their hearts beat loud as she searches Theo’s expression for any indication that this desire is a fleeting moment. So what if it is?
“ Evelyn .” It’s thrilling and terrifying, the desperate way he says her name. “Show me. Please .”
Please.
With that one word, his soft plea, she crashes into his lips, takes his hands in hers, and shows him. Starts at her thighs, his touch so light, so tentative, as she guides his fingers up, up, up and under her dress. She keeps one of his hands on her hip as she skims the other across the hem of her seamless, practical nude underwear. Sucks on his lower lip. In response to the pressure of fingers sinking into the flesh of her hip, she teases herself with his hand. Allows only his fingertips to dip under the fabric of her underwear.
“Ev.”
She knows it’s reckless, letting him touch her like this.
But.
She wants him.
Sitting on his lap, she can feel his erection through the thin layers of fabric that separate them. His body wants her, too. It feels so good. Wanting. Being wanted. Evie releases his hands. Needs her own to remove his suit jacket, to loosen his tie, to work the buttons of his shirt because it’s unbearable how many layers are between them. She rises onto her knees to remove his button-up, her execution clumsy. Sort of like the first pass of new choreography. Evie’s fingers run through the hair that lightly covers his chest before pressing her palm against his skin to feel his heart’s erratic thrum. She always loved learning choreography. The permission it gave them to touch each other without it meaning anything.
Touching Theo doesn’t have to mean anything.
Their lips part.
Theo looks up at her as his chest rises and falls in her hand. “If we’re… If this is…” Evie doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Waits for him to say it. Again. We can’t. He bites his lower lip and even the wrinkle in his brow is so tender. “Tomorrow?” he continues. “I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.”
It’s the first time he has ever acknowledged it.
The last time.
When she was intoxicated by grief and he tasted like peppermint schnapps.
“Theo—”
“ Please ,” he whispers. “It’s exhausting. Pretending I don’t want you.”
Her heart stutters.
You.
You.
You.
Evie wraps her arms around his neck. “I’m exhausted, too.”
She hopes that’s enough of an answer and is relieved when he claims her mouth with his, kissing her with reckless abandon. Evie has spent so many years downplaying her attraction, convincing herself it’s normal for a filthy thought to enter her head if he looks at her a certain way, insisting that this could never happen. But it is. Tomorrow is a tomorrow problem. Tonight?
She has Theo.
His hands return to her body, but he keeps the layer of satin between their skin as they roam up her silhouette. Theo is slow with his touch. Intentional. He cups one of her breasts. Brushes her nipple with a thumb. Such a tease . Evie can tease, too. She reaches between them and traces the outline of his cock, then bites his lip before breaking the kiss and bringing her hand between her own legs. God. Evie is warm. Wet. Out of control. So turned on as Theo watches her touch herself with the same attentive expression that he once gave to learning choreography, then lowers his hands to her hip dips as she settles back onto his lap. She used to be self-conscious of the divot where her hips meet her thighs.
Now?
Evie grinds against him in response, loving that his hands naturally gravitate to this part of her body. Every time their lips touch, she considers it a tragedy that she hasn’t spent her whole life kissing Theo Cohen. In the morning, she’ll remember every reason why… but right now? His tongue silences every logical brain cell, allowing this untenable want to bloom into something dangerous.
He bunches satin in his fists.
A question.
Evie nods against his lips.
An answer.
Theo unzips her dress, and in one fluid motion, it’s over her head and on the floor. She shivers, freezing and on fire as he flips her onto her back. She closes her eyes. Anticipates how good Theo will feel on top of her. Is impatient. Where is he? Why is he not on top of her? Frustrated, her eyes flutter open to find him looking at her like he wants to savor every moment of this. Evie’s breath catches in her throat as she watches his eyes move down her body with intention, lingering on the swell of her breasts, the music notes on her ribs, the ink on her hip that’s only partially exposed.
“A new tattoo?”
“No.”
Evie lowers the band of her underwear just enough to reveal a tiny torch etched into her right hipbone. Her second tattoo. An impulsive decision made at eighteen, a week after he boarded a plane to New York. She chose a discreet placement to permanently etch him onto her skin. Theo curses under his breath. Of course he recognizes the symbol from their favorite show.
“Evelyn Bloom, if I had known you had a literal torch for me…”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”
He laughs.
It’s rich and rare.
Possibly her favorite sound in the world.
Looking up at Theo’s lamplit face, fixating on a single rogue curl that has fallen over his forehead, she’s never felt more exposed. More safe. More sure. Because though she spent money she doesn’t have, on a family she barely has, to be in a city that isn’t hers, that decision is the only reason Evie is here now.
With Theo.
Under Theo.
“Do you even have any idea how obsessed I am with your tattoos?”
Yes.
She shrugs.
Traces the ink along his left biceps. “Nope.”
Then decides she’s done. Teasing Theo. Teasing herself. She grabs his wrist and pulls him toward her, the want transcending into a physical, aching need to be close to him. Theo’s mouth drifts across her jaw, trailing down her neck and settling on her collarbone as his hand dips back into her underwear.
“ Ev. ” Theo groans the moment his fingers come into contact with her slickness. “ Fuck .”
She buckles into his hand as his thumb strokes her clit, the pressure perfect. His mouth makes its way down her body while his fingers continue to work. When his tongue rolls across her nipple as two fingers slide inside her she whimpers… and it doesn’t make sense. Evie knows her body. It’s not… she doesn’t just come . Evie keeps a miniature vibrator on her at all times. Refuses to feel any kind of shame that her body typically requires its assistance during sex.
So.
How is Theo about to wreck her with a hand job ?
“God, you’re tight,” he murmurs against her skin.
Then presses a kiss to the torch on her hip and it’s too much. She bites her lip to suppress the gasp as she comes undone and her first thought after riding his hand, riding her orgasm, is More, more, more. Then, Why are his pants still on? She fixes that. Removes his briefs in the process, too. Oops. Theo has a fantastic cock. She strokes the length and revels in the sounds he makes. The sharp inhale when she brushes her thumb across the head before guiding him toward her clit.
“ Evelyn . Are you trying to kill me? I…” Theo pulls back, his eyebrows crinkling. “… don’t have a condom.”
“I have an IUD.”
His expression shifts. “Oh.”
“Also, I’m good,” she continues. “My most recent test was at my annual a couple weeks ago, but I haven’t hooked up with anyone since before…”
Evie isn’t sure what’s worse. The end of that sentence or the fact that she can’t finish it.
“Me either,” Theo admits. “And I’m good, too.”
“Cool.”
“You’re so—”
She pulls his mouth back to hers, certain that talking too much is going to ruin this fun, good, terrifying thing. Evie doesn’t want to ruin it, instead choosing to cut off his words with a kiss and continue to show him what she wants.
You.
You.
You.
“Fuck me,” Evie whispers in his ear after their lips part, her teeth nibbling the lobe. “Theodore. Please .”
“ Ev .” Theo turns his head so their noses touch. “It’s not going to be…” He pauses. Even naked and flustered, Theo considers his words. “I just. I’m already pretty close.”
“Yeah?”
With the exhilarating admission, she rolls against him. Guides him inside her as she pulls his mouth back to hers and shifts under him. Wrapping her legs around his torso, they find a rhythm. He feels… she feels… so much , being fucked by her best friend, who is always so gentle, so careful. Who is losing control. Who groans into her mouth when he comes. Her nails sink into shoulders slick with sweat, desperate to hold on to something. Not something. Him .
And it feels like it was always a matter of time.
This.
Yet Evie didn’t see it coming.
After they clean themselves up, she curls into Theo.
He runs a hand through his sex-mussed curls. “I feel like a fucking teenager.”
Evie laughs. Almost wishes that they were teenagers again so she could turn back time and choose New York the moment she was able to make a choice like that. Choose him. Not push him toward this city, toward this dream, away from her. But he came back. Confessed that it feels impossible, the idea of leaving her again.
Impossible .
Evie falls asleep in her best friend’s arms, letting herself, just once, have this impossible thing.