6 - Theo
THEO
“Get out. You’re coming with us.”
Colson’s voice was gruff and abrasive, like gravel dragged over rusted metal. His steel blue eyes were cold and unyielding. They left no room for debate.
“The hell I am.”
I looked down at Peyton, trying but not trying to avoid the stark beauty of her nakedness. There was no fear on her face as she floated there, only shock mixed with grim devastation. But that devastation was so instant, so total, it made my heart hurt.
“I’m not fucking around,” Colson reiterated. “Get dressed. We’re leaving in five.”
He spun away, as if her obedience were a forgone conclusion. As with most things that had anything to do with Colson Hollis, it usually was.
But Peyton, I knew, was radically different.
In my time at the manor, I’d seen whole oceans of defiance in those striking blue eyes.
She was totally unlike any other woman Donovan Prescott had ever dated.
She wasn’t anything like those he sometimes snuck around with either, when all the cameras were disabled, and the paparazzi weren’t looking.
No, Peyton Kingsley was completely different.
The gorgeous blonde bombshell who’d stormed into our lives was highly intelligent; maybe even smarter than the self-made billionaire genius who’d foolishly tried keeping her under lock and key.
She learned fast, and adapted faster. Through wit and charm and pure Irish luck, I’d seen her manipulate just about any situation to suit her needs.
On top of it all, she was resourceful to the point of being dangerous — Donovan’s words, not mine. The man wasn’t wrong, though. The events of today had proved that, beyond any shadow of a doubt.
All of these things and more flashed through my mind, as I did everything I could not to meet her angry, Medusa-like gaze.
But this woman I’d secretly pined for all these many months was now floating beneath me, spectacularly naked.
My roving eyes, for the moment at least, couldn’t give less of a fuck what I wanted.
Still, it was beyond that, honestly. ‘Pined for’ wasn’t a strong enough way to describe the way I felt when I watched her, felt sorry for her, become totally obsessed with her.
Not when I’d fallen for her as hard as I had.
“You…”
There was disdain in Peyton’s voice as she addressed me directly. The word felt like a punch to the gut.
“I should’ve known he’d send you.”
My chin dropped to my chest. “Peyton…”
The words came out falteringly, apologetically. Somewhere off to my left, Ripley swore.
“Trust me,” I said. “We’re not here to hurt you.”
She laughed, sharply, and her laughter sounded almost like music. To me, it was the most painful thing she could’ve done.
“Look, if you just come with us, I’m sure we can—”
“Turn around, then. All of you.”
I started to. I really did. Colson was already back in the house, but a dirty look from Ripley stopped me dead.
“No one’s taking their eyes off you,” the hulking fighter spat. “Not for a second.”
“Fine,” she said, unfazed. “Hold out that towel, then.”
Ripley found the towel down near his feet. Eventually, eyes still locked on her, he slowly bent to pick it up.
“For fuck’s sake,” Peyton groaned. “Do you know how to hold up a towel, or what?”
Begrudgingly, Ripley extended his arms. The towel unraveled. Splashes preceded her slow, lovely climb up the small wooden ladder. I couldn’t believe it. A moment later she was standing before us, utterly naked, without even a hint of embarrassment.
If anything, I felt embarrassed.
Jesus, Theo.
Her body was something I’d dreamt about often, since the first time I’d laid eyes on her.
I’d fantasized about those soft, supple breasts.
The gentle curve of her hips, drifting down to that perfect, full moon ass.
Her legs were the optimal length to be thrown over my shoulders; or at least I thought so, anyway.
But those thighs… so womanly, so shapely, so firm and perfectly athletic…
Those thighs drove me absolutely crazy.
There were times I’d been tasked with watching her in the manor, and they were my favorite assignments of all.
It was then that I got to see the real Peyton.
Those private, unguarded moments when she’d smile at staff, kick back with a dog-eared paperback, or carry on whole conversations with the house Rottweilers, Rutger and Hauer, as if they were human beings.
That woman was beautiful inside and out; a fact I knew well before now.
At the moment though, she glistened before me, her porcelain skin still dripping from her swim.
Those naked curves I’d imagined so many times were exposed in all their supple glory, and I couldn’t help but trace them with my eyes.
Then my gaze dropped to the silver locket around her neck, and I felt abruptly guilty.
Peyton caught me looking of course, while wringing out her hair and approaching the outstretched towel.
Her smoldering blue eyes met mine; judgingly, disdainfully, daring me to out myself as anything but a betrayer of her trust. Crushed by the avalanche of my own immense guilt, it was everything I could do not to turn away in shame.
Then, still looking me straight in the eyes, she shot her leg up through the towel…
… and kneed Ripley square in the balls.