Nine
I don’t want to be awake right now.
My bed is too comfortable to leave, so I shut my eyes and try to fall back asleep. But something is off, only I can’t tell what. Memories from last night come back in a blur. Alice’s keen eyes, Angela’s flurry of text messages, Theo’s face outlined in red candlelight. His eyes growing hooded, right before he bent forward, and our lips met…
Be careful.
I throw back the duvet from my face, eyes wide open. Near-blinding light pours into the room from the window. I almost hiss and pull the covers back over my face, but there’s no way I can possibly go back to sleep now. Did last night actually happen, or was it just some sort of bizarre fever dream? When the space on the bed beside me shifts, I freeze.
I fear I may already have my answer.
Slowly, I attempt to sit up but find myself stuck. I’m barely breathing when I catch sight of the arm thrown over my middle, casually, as if he’s done it a thousand times.
Theo.
I burst up, the force knocking his arm askew as I furiously inspect myself. I’m still wearing my jeans and blouse from last night, and the sigh of relief I breathe is so huge, it could have its own bedroom. I’m even still wearing the shoes I went out in. My bright blue Keds stare up at me from the white sheets they rest on. Well. That can’t possibly be sanitary, but better this than the alternative.
When Theo lets out a loud groan, I turn my head back to him. He’s sitting up against the headboard, stretching his thick, muscular arms over his head. My breath catches as my stare lingers on his golden skin. The faint tan lines on his upper arms, where the golden hue of his skin becomes pink. The even fainter traces of blond hair on his chest. His shoulders are so wide-set, his arms look almost long enough to wrap around my body twice. With his height and build, he takes up more space on the bed than I do.
He’s so… burly.
The duvet creeps down his chest, and I get my first glimpse of Theo without a shirt on. Holy mother of—
“What the hell happened last night?” Theo asks before I can finish my train of thought. My eyes snap up to his immediately.
“Shots.” My voice is dry and hoarse, for no reason whatsoever. Because I’m hungover, and not any other word that starts with h. I clear my throat and try again. “Lots of shots.”
He runs a hand through his hair, heaving another groan before he slides himself back down on the bed. “God, my head is pounding. Did we drink the entire bar last night?”
“I wouldn’t doubt it.” Now that he mentions it, there’s a pounding ache at the back of my own head as well. “I have some Advil in the bathroom. Give me a second.”
I stand up and walk toward the adjoining bathroom. When I flick on the lights, I let out a startled gasp at my own reflection in the mirror above the sink.
My hair is a tangled mess of knots and god knows what else. Black mascara runs down my cheeks, dried flecks dotted around the circles of my eyes. I don’t even remember putting on makeup before meeting up with Theo. What I do remember is distinctly trying not to impress him. I even wore my favorite ratty blouse, though now the brown coffee stain on the collar is so much starker in the light of day. The makeup was from before I left for work, then.
Work. I almost forgot it’s Tuesday. Good god, who is Theo turning me into!?
“Hey, can you check the time for me?” I call through the closed door, failing to hide the note of anxiety in my voice. Erica’s going to kill me if I’m late. I’m going to kill me if I’m late, because it’s never happened before. I quickly dab the crusted makeup from my face and grab a bottle from the medicine cabinet.
“Seven thirty-five.”
I breathe a sigh of relief as I pick up my toothbrush. Thank god. I have two free hours until I’m due at work. Theo leans a shoulder against the doorway, clutching his head. I hand him the pill bottle before squeezing a dab of toothpaste onto my brush. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Theo covertly checking his breath with both hands raised to his mouth.
“I have a spare toothbrush if you need one.”
He nods before stepping into the bathroom. Such a tiny action, but my heart is racing all of a sudden. Maybe it’s seeing the two of us standing side by side in the mirror’s reflection. The domesticity of it is somehow even more intimate after last night’s kiss. How is it that in the little time I’ve known him, we’ve already shared a bathroom twice?
I hand him the spare and watch as he twists open the cap of toothpaste. He catches me staring in the mirror, and the side of his mouth lifts in a smirk. I train my eyes back to my reflection, brushing furiously and avoiding his gaze altogether. He beats me to the sink, rinsing out his mouth and washing down two pills with water. When the bottle slips from his hand, he shuts off the water and bends over. My eyes immediately fall to his jeans-clad ass before I force my eyes shut.
Stop gawking at him, for fuck’s sake.
Luckily, I make it to the sink before he can get an eyeful of the toothpaste waterfall dripping from the side of my mouth. This whole situation is awkward enough without him catching me quite literally drooling all over him.
“Thanks for letting me crash here again,” he says as he leaves the bathroom. His smile is dazzling, indigo eyes glittering. My stomach does somersaults inside my body. If he can sense the internal freak-out, he’s too polite to say as much. “I really appreciate it. Even if neither of us has any recollection of how we ended up… you know.”
Is it just me, or has his smile turned devilish? I’m not sure if he means the kiss, or the ending up in bed together. Both, perhaps. My pulse stutters with the flash of his teeth.
“Yeah.” I hate how breathy my voice comes out. “No problem.”
He finds his hoodie discarded on the living room floor. I follow him into the room, my mind reeling with all sorts of inappropriate thoughts. Last night’s kiss replays in my head, over and over. The taste of salt and lime and him on my tongue, the feel of his big hands on my body. Awakening a side of me that’s been dormant for so long, I wasn’t sure it still existed.
Still exists, all right.
“So,” I start, my pulse drumming a hard beat beneath my flesh when his eyes train on me again. “Last night was… fun?” It comes out as a question. “Is that the right word? Fun?” I’m not sure if I’m asking for confirmation or his opinion.
“Definitely fun.” There’s that wicked grin again. “We should do it again soon.”
“Which part?” I’m about to say something stupid, but I can’t stop the question from slipping out anyway. “The drinking, the kissing, or the waking up in the same bed part?”
His smile drops.
The mirth in his eyes is replaced with something headier. Something… darker. Two feet of space separates us, but the temperature in my apartment ratchets up.
He clears his throat, but his voice is thick when he answers. “Asker’s choice.”
I blink once, twice. I’m sure I heard wrong.
“Anyway.” His smile is sheepish as he changes the subject before I can even think to ask him what he means by that. “We should probably talk about what happened. I…” He takes a steadying breath. “Look, I’m grateful to you for you going along with the lie from brunch, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you. We can tell everyone it was just a miscommunication if you want.”
“I think we’re past that.” I smile wryly, though I’m more grateful than I can say that he’s willing to walk back the lie. There’s no explaining away that kiss to Alice and her friends, not in a way that wouldn’t humiliate us both, but the fact that he’s willing to come clean so I don’t feel used is… unexpected. “I don’t mind.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I nod.
“Okay.” His brows furrow. “Why is that?”
Why is that, indeed.
If I tell him the truth, would he understand? We’re in the same predicament, after all. He’s not nearly as intimidating as I first thought. There’s a softness I hadn’t expected to see in him. A vulnerability I never knew he was capable of. He wouldn’t tell anyone if I shared my secret. He’d hold it close, next to his own secrets. My mouth opens to confess the truth, but the explanation tangles and chokes at the back of my throat.
“I haven’t been kissed like that in a long time,” I admit instead, which is somehow even more embarrassing than my feelings for his brother. I shudder and close my eyes, face heating. “Oh god, that’s—”
“No.” His hand closes over my shoulder. The warmth of it seeps through my shirt and into my skin. “I haven’t either, truthfully.”
I look up at him in disbelief. “Really?”
He laughs at the surprise in my tone. “I’ve been too distracted lately. With leaving the team and figuring out what to do with my life next. With Alice…” He heaves a sigh. “I don’t regret that kiss, but I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“I don’t,” I assure him. “Seriously. You just… reminded me what I’ve been missing.” A flush of heat washes over me. “I’ve never really done the casual thing before. Angela keeps telling me I need to give it a try. She even made me redownload all my old dating apps,” I add quickly.
“Angela.” His eyes narrow in thought. “She’s the one who texted you last night.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “The really skinny one with big, curly hair that looks like it weighs more than she does.”
“Ah.” His eyes light up with recognition. “I remember her now.” He looks at me again, something inexplicable in his eyes. “So… you’re just looking for something casual.”
The way he says it almost makes it a question. An understanding, of sorts.
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Right?” I shrug, ducking away from his eyes.
When I chance a glance at him, he’s much closer than he was before. His body hovers over me, head bent until our faces are inches apart. He nearly has to crouch to manage it. My body is very aware of his, still gloriously shirtless, his forgotten hoodie dangling from a closed fist. When his eyes flick down to my lips, something in the air shifts and becomes supercharged, until we’re two electric currents about to clash together in a burst of sparks.
“Raspberries.” His lips move, but I barely hear the word that crosses them. A hand comes up to smooth my left brow, to smooth the tension formed from furrowing my brows. “You tasted like raspberries last night.”
A gasp, a slow intake of breath, leaves my throat. Has he been thinking about last night as much as I have? A part of me was starting to wonder if I was the only one affected by it. If I’m the only one who wants a repeat of last night. Behind closed doors, without this thing between us being about putting on a show. To almost believe it’s real.
“Marcela.” His hand migrates to the edge of my mouth, thumb trailing below my bottom lip. The nerve endings there buzz to life, until it’s the only inch of skin on my body I’m conscious of. “You need to tell me what to do here. I’m not the one who should start this… for a lot of reasons.”
He’s right, a warning from the back of my mind says. I always thought I wasn’t cut out for casual, based on past failed attempts. But there’s no denying the pull between us. There’s no denying how badly we both want this.
My eyes flick down to his mouth, memories of his pillow-soft lips on mine. “Why? Because you want me to be sure I know what I’m getting into?” It’s a miracle I’m able to keep my voice steady. His eyes close as he nods. I lift myself to my tiptoes, mouth close enough for my lips to graze his ear. “I don’t expect anything from you, Theo. I know what this is.”
He shudders beneath my touch, goosebumps rising on his shoulders. Because of me? Is that the effect I have on him?
“Are you sure?” His voice is a breathy rasp, warm against my flushed cheeks. “Because I’m trying to be a good guy here, Marcela. But you’re making it incredibly difficult for me.”
If this is his way of volleying the power back to me, it’s working. It’s intoxicating. We’re barely touching, but I’ve never been this turned on in my life. Maybe it’s the proof of my effect on him, maybe it’s the anticipation buzzing beneath my skin, but whatever it is, it gives me the courage I need to keep going.
I take a chance and kiss his neck, reveling in the way his body shakes beneath my touch. In the throaty groan he emits in my ear. His hands cup my hips, but they don’t move. They lock in place, one last barrier of hesitation to break through. I kiss up his jaw, stopping right before I reach his lips. Our eyes meet and lock. Just like last night, his pupils are blown wide.
“I want this, Theo—”
I barely get his name out before his mouth is on mine. Neither one of us holds back this time as we pull at each other. His hands search over my blouse, and mine brush over bare skin. I push him until the back of his legs reach the couch. He breaks the kiss momentarily to sit, pulling me down onto his lap.
My knees straddle either side of his waist as his big hand cups the back of my neck. His fingers trail the tiny hairs on my nape, making a shiver run down my back. He kisses down my jaw as my hands roam his bare chest, warm on my already overheated skin. We’re as close as our bodies can possibly be, but it doesn’t feel close enough. There are still too many layers between us. His hands pull on my waist, grinding me into his lap. I feel the bulge in his pants and let out an embarrassingly loud moan.
Bad idea bad idea bad— I shut off my thoughts as if slamming a door shut, bolting the locks for good measure. No thinking, just this. Just his hands in my hair, his lips on my skin, his limbs tangling with mine until I lose track of where I end and he begins.
We shift until my back hits the sofa cushions and his body hovers over mine, legs tangled together, hands roaming of their own will. It’s only been hours, but I don’t know how I made it through an entire night with him in my bed without his mouth on mine.
“God, I missed this,” he mumbles against my skin, taking the words right out of my brain.
“I didn’t think guys like you went through dry spells.”
He chuckles against my lips. “What does that even mean? Guys like me?”
“Have you seen what you look like?”
He counters with “Have you seen what you look like?” and pulls me into his chest. His hands play with the hem of my blouse, his fingers skating my bare skin. I’m still reveling in his words—have you seen what you look like—when his mouth moves up and kisses my lips, hard and fast. We’ve only just begun, but the way he kisses is like we’re running out of time. Our hands intertwine as my hips find a rhythm to grind against his jeans-clad erection, right where I need him.
“God, Marcela.” He groans, his hands pulling at my hair in the most delicious way. “This is gonna be over before it starts if you don’t slow down.”
“I don’t wanna slow down,” I admit, surprised at how husky my voice comes out. “But we should probably move this to the bedroom soon.”
Neither one of us moves an inch. His lips scorch as they form a path down my neck. My sweaty hands slip down his chest, until I find the button of his jeans. He moves my hand away before I can pop it open, and disappointment and frustration flood my chest. But I’m revitalized again when he says, “Bedroom, Marcela. Now.”
Right. Yes.
Reluctantly, we leave the couch and I lead him back to the bedroom. He leans down to kiss me but before he can, the silence is broken by the alarm on my phone. The sudden blaring sound startles us both so much, we bump our heads together instead. White hot pain burns the front of my skull.
“Ow! Goddammit!”
He clutches at his head with a pained expression, but his lips are holding back what looks like an amused grin. I grab my phone from the nightstand and shut off the alarm with a heavy sigh. Now that the mood is officially killed, I plop down on the bed with a groan.
“I have work soon.” It comes out as a sexually frustrated grumble.
“So I gathered…” His eyes sparkle with amusement. “Guess I should probably go, then.”
“Or”—I lift myself from the bed, prowling toward him—“you can stay until the third alarm goes off. That gives us about thirty more minutes.”
“Third alarm?” he asks, even as he kisses my lips. Even as the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed. But I can’t answer him when I’m pushed down and my back hits the mattress, Theo hovering over me. “I’m sure we can find time for a few things.”
That smile is going to be the death of me.