Chapter 20 Provenance #2
In the room over, drawers open and shut, things scrape against the floor, paper rustles. Tillie’s voice comes through in sharp, frantic bursts, Giles’s in low, steady replies I can’t make out, just the tone—frantic, yet somehow still absolutely done with all of this.
I feel suspended in time. I don’t know if minutes or hours pass in this limbo of us waiting.
No footsteps make their way toward the closet.
Time stretches, nearly unbearably, until the noise finally starts to fade, footsteps retreating, a door closing somewhere in the distance.
Theo’s chest sinks under mine as he lets out a breath, and only then do I realize I’ve been holding mine too.
“Okay,” I whisper. “We can move.”
His grip firms at my hips. “Can you—” the words come out pained. “Give me a second?”
I shift my weight instinctively and he sucks in a breath.
That’s when it becomes clear.
There’s a firm, impressive problem against my thigh, and honestly, I’m not prepared for the dimensions involved.
My face goes hot. I panic for a full three seconds, convinced he can hear every thought ricocheting around in my skull. And then another thought pushes its way through it all:
He wants me.
And I want him.
So why the fuck not?
My eyes move over his face, quick, searching—his mouth, his eyes, the tension etched across every square inch. I’m trying to figure out what exactly this can lead to here, what he’s waiting for. His gaze drops to my lips, and his head moves forward an inch—barely anything, but enough.
That’s all I need.
I close the rest of the distance myself, crashing my mouth to his before the moment has a chance to combust.
The first point of contact knocks the air out of me.
My body’s response is instant. Adrenaline floods my system in that split second between thought and instinct.
Dopamine, oxytocin, whatever cocktail of neurotransmitters conspires to make bad decisions feel good. One chemical reaction after another, too fast to track, too strong to fight, flooding my body faster than reason can catch up.
My fingers curl into his shirt, just to keep myself somewhat anchored. My knees scrape against the floor, but all I register is him—his scent, the solid feel of him beneath me, the rough scrape of stubble when he angles in impossibly closer.
My brain tries to stay clinical, to catalogue the details, maybe so I can remember this once it's over—the roughness of his palm where it grips my waist, the sound of his breath catching when I lick into his mouth, the tremor in his exhale when I come up for air—but the line between cognizance and surrender disappears quickly.
His hand moves up my spine in one slow sweep before threading into my hair.
There is nothing tentative in the way he kisses me back. It’s like he wants to learn exactly what I want, exactly what I respond to.
His lips part against mine, coaxing rather than demanding, and every shift of pressure between our bodies sends heat rolling through my stomach. His hand is still in my hair, guiding me, keeping me close, and the gentle movement of his thumb at the base of my skull makes my whole body tingle.
I feel him everywhere—the push of my body against his, the restraint in the way he holds me, the way he sucks air through his nose like he can’t get enough.
I have never been kissed the way Theo kisses me.
And when he grinds against my thigh, chasing even a little relief, his whole body shuddering beneath me, I realize he feels the same way about this, about me, about the way I’m kissing him.
For a breath of a moment, he loses control. It’s too good, too much, and his mouth parts on a sigh, a full-body shudder racking him.
His big hand guides my forehead to fall against his, and we both make a sad attempt at catching our breath.
“Lila,” he breathes. “When we finally pry ourselves apart and you shimmy your way down my body, it’s very likely that you’re going to realize just how badly I have wanted you and for how long.”
I try to make sense of whatever I just heard.
He presses his mouth to mine, softer this time.
“Sweetheart.” Another kiss in between words, the press of his drained cock rough against my thigh.
I know what he’s about to confess when I feel it, and the rush it sends through me is a high I will be chasing for the rest of my life.
“I don’t know how to say this eloquently, so I’m just going to be blunt.
You’re so goddamn everything to me, I just came in my fucking pants. ”
“God, that’s hot.” I take the opportunity to pepper his entire face with tiny kisses. “If I could come in my pants I definitely would have too.”
He smiles against my lips and it may be the best thing I’ve ever felt in my entire fucking life.
We worm our way out of the tunnel one cramped inch at a time. Once we’re back in the archives, Theo pulls the panel into place and checks it twice to make sure it stays shut. He scrubs both hands over his face.
“I need another shower.” He looks down at himself. We’re both covered in so much dirt and debris, among other things.
I truly hope we don’t pass anyone in the hall.
I want to stay with him. I really do. But I’m already late to meet Evelyn and Emily for a full day of planning an estate event that Evelyn roped us into, and if I bail, Evelyn will send someone to physically retrieve me. Probably Giles. Possibly armed.
So I force myself out of the archives, dust in my hair, heart still racing, brain still replaying every second of what happened in that tunnel.
Back in the room, Theo heads straight for the shower, but not before kissing me silly one last time. I change on autopilot. Jostle the dust out of my hair. Pull myself together. Pretend I’m not shaking. Pretend things are normal.
Who am I kidding?
Normal is dead.