Chapter Fifteen
Present Day
“I’m going to run you a bath.” He said, kissing my head before getting up off the bed and walking into the bathroom. A moment later I heard the water turn on.
I shimmied down the bed and rested my head on my pillow. Closing my eyes to just rest a while.
November 2017 - The funeral
The funeral was over. Everyone had left the Bennett house except Sloane and her family. I was sitting in the guest room, still in my black dress, staring at nothing.
I couldn’t cry anymore. I’d cried so much I’d run dry.
There was a soft knock on the door.
“Gin?” Theo’s voice called softly behind it. “I brought you something.”
I didn’t answer, but he came in anyway. He was carrying a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich cut into triangles and a mug of hot chocolate.
“You haven’t eaten all day.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I know.” He set the plate on the nightstand anyway. Sat down on the floor in front of me, not saying anything, just... there.
The silence stretched. I picked up one triangle of sandwich and took a bite because it was easier than arguing. It tasted like nothing, but I ate it anyway.
“My mom wants you to stay here as long as you need,” Theo said quietly. “You don’t have to go back home if you’re not ready.”
I nodded. Couldn’t speak.
“You don’t have to talk,” he continued. “You don’t have to be okay. You just have to let us help you. Can you do that?”
I looked at him then. Really looked at him. He’d flown back from Italy for the funeral. Had been here for three days, helping however he could. Hadn’t left me alone even when I’d pushed everyone else away.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I whispered.
“Because you’re family,” he said simply. “Because I care about you. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
He stayed and waited until I finished the sandwich in silence. When I finally lay down, he pulled a blanket over me, turned off the light.
“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
I’d woken up at 2am from a nightmare and found him asleep in the chair by the door. He’d come back and he’d stayed. Just in case I needed him.
“Bath’s ready.” He said softly, waking me from my dozing. I looked up and smiled. He helped me to my feet and held my hand as we walked into the bathroom.
“Do you want me to leave you to it?” He asked softly, brushing my hair behind my ear.
If anyone else had asked me, the answer would have been yes. I’d rather have dealt with my broken emotions alone. Overthinking what had happened at the bar alone. Crying alone.
I kept this kind of stuff from Sloane too, I was never really sure why.
“No.” I whispered.
Theo smiled and then kissed me tenderly before lifting my arms up and taking off the shirt I’d been wearing, and then my bra. His eyes were soft, and on me - not in a sexual way, not at that moment.
He undressed me fully and then led me over to the bath. I stepped into it, surprised at how deep it actually was. The hot water mixed with the lavender scented bubbles filled me with a happy sleepiness.
“How about I join you?”
“There isn’t enough room.” I said, because I was sure there wasn’t.
“Yes there is.” he said, already stripping off his clothes. He stepped into the tub behind me, his legs moving down alongside mine, he wrapped his arm around my waist and moved me back through the water until I was lying against his chest.
He picked up a washcloth and saturated it in the water before squeezing it out over my chest. He placed his arm over my breast and then kissed the spot where my neck met my shoulder.
We stayed in the bath until our fingers pruned and the water started to cool.
Once we were both out, Theo wrapped a towel around me, and I didn’t even care that it barely covered me, that my stomach and my thigh were still showing.
He wrapped his own towel around his waist and then kissed me hungrily.
His kiss was rough at first, but then it softened, became something gentler, more deliberate. His hands cupped my face as his lips moved against mine slowly, reverently, like he was savoring every second.
When he pulled back, his eyes searched mine. Without a word, he took my hand and led me to the bedroom. The towel around me loosened and fell, but he caught it before it hit the floor, gently pulling it away. His own towel followed, discarded without ceremony.
He guided me to the bed, and I lay back against the pillows. Instead of immediately joining me, he stood there for a moment, just looking at me. But there was no hunger in his gaze now—it was something deeper, something that made my chest tight.
“You’re beautiful,” he said softly.
Before I could deflect or argue, he climbed onto the bed beside me.
He didn’t rush, didn’t grab. Instead, he lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, and just...
touched me. His fingers traced along my collarbone, down between my breasts, over the curve of my stomach.
Not to arouse, but to learn, to memorize.
“Theo,” I whispered, not sure what I was asking for.
“I’m here,” he murmured back.
He leaned down and kissed me again, slow and deep. His hand continued its exploration—over my hip, along my thigh, back up to cup my breast. His thumb brushed over my nipple, and I sighed into his mouth.
He kissed down my neck, taking his time, his lips barely grazing my skin. When he reached my breast, he took my nipple into his mouth, sucking gently while his hand moved to the other, rolling and teasing until I was arching into his touch.
“Please,” I breathed.
He understood. He settled between my legs, his weight a comforting pressure as he aligned himself with me. His eyes found mine.
I nodded, and he pushed into me slowly, so slowly, watching my face the entire time. The stretch was there, the fullness, but it felt different this time—intimate in a way that had nothing to do with the physical act.
Once he was fully inside, he stilled, his forehead resting against mine. We breathed together, just existing in this moment of complete connection.
Then he began to move. Long, slow strokes that had nothing to do with chasing release and everything to do with being close. His hand found mine, our fingers interlacing as he held it against the pillow beside my head.
“Gin,” he breathed my name like it meant something.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, not to pull him deeper, but to hold him closer. Each thrust was deliberate, measured. He kissed me between movements—soft kisses on my lips, my cheek, my forehead.
“I’ve got you,” he said against my lips.
His rhythm never changed, just those same slow, deep thrusts while his fingers worked gentle magic. I felt the tension building in my core, spreading through my limbs like warm honey.
“Theo,” My voice broke slightly.
“I know. Let go. I’m right here.”
The orgasm washed over me in waves rather than crashing—gentle, rolling pleasure that had me gasping softly, my body clenching around him. He worked me through it, his movements never faltering, his eyes never leaving my face.
He was getting closer, his breathing becoming more ragged even as he maintained that same tender pace. His hand tightened around mine.
“Gin,” he breathed, and then again, softer, “Gin.”
He buried his face in my neck as he came, his body tensing and then releasing. He pulsed inside of me, as the warmth of his release filled me. His grip on my hand was almost desperate, like he was anchoring himself to me.
We lay like that for a long time, still joined, still holding hands. His weight pressed me into the mattress, and I reveled in it—in feeling wanted, held, safe.
Eventually, he carefully withdrew and rolled to his side, immediately pulling me against him. I fit perfectly into the curve of his body, my back to his chest, his arm wrapped securely around my waist.
He pressed a kiss to my shoulder, then another to the spot where my neck met my shoulder—the same spot from the bath, from the funeral memory.
Neither of us spoke. Words felt unnecessary, inadequate for whatever had just passed between us. This hadn’t been just sex, hadn’t been just scratching an itch. This had been something else entirely.
His fingers traced lazy patterns on my stomach, and I covered his hand with mine. Outside, I could hear the faint sounds of the city, but here, in this bed, we were the only two people in the world.
“Sleep,” he murmured against my hair. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
And just like at the funeral, just like he’d always done when I needed him most, I believed him.
I closed my eyes and let myself drift, safe in the knowledge that whatever this thing between us was becoming, it was real. And that was enough.