36. Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Six
Now
Theo makes dinner for us, and when the kitchen is clean and the dishwasher is humming along, we head out to the patio. I lay in the hammock; he sits in the chair with his feet on the table. We drink our cheap beer and talk about our days and watch the sunset. I ask if Theo knew about Quinton’s grandfather; he says that he did. He tells me that Randi wants us to come over for dinner next week, and even though it feels very couple-ish, I agree after only the slightest hesitation.
Despite the fact that he had me gasping up at the stars last night, that I fell asleep in his arms, that I basically rejected him this morning—it’s all so overwhelmingly normal. The new normal we’ve created over the past few weeks, anyway.
I’m starting to think that when Theo said he’d wait forever, he meant it.
“You want to go to the beach this weekend?” he asks.
I wedge my cold bottle into the top of my cleavage, trying to cool off. “What?”
“The beach.” His eyes snag on my chest. “We could go for the weekend.”
“Excuse me,” I tell him. “Stop looking at my tits.”
A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. “That’s not what you were saying last night.”
“Theo!”
He laughs, amused with himself, and I try to hide my own smile behind another sip. “Okay, sorry. When was the last time you went to the beach, though?”
I think for a second. “Labor Day. We went to Cape Cod with Daniel’s family.”
“Were the Kennedys there, too?”
There’s a small throw pillow sitting next to me in the hammock; I sling it at his head, and he cracks up as he bats it away. “When was the last time you went to the beach?”
Theo’s laughter fades, his wide grin following close behind. “The last time I tried to go,” he says, and I can sense how hard he’s fighting to keep his voice light, “I got arrested and threatened with kidnapping charges instead. So I thought a redo might be nice.”
“Minus the cops?”
“Ideally, yeah.”
With this tenuous place we’re in, going away together is probably the stupidest thing we could do. I know it, and I’m sure he does too.“I have to work Saturday morning.”
“Let’s leave after that.”
“For Jacksonville ? We wouldn’t get there until dinner time.”
“Nah. We’ll go to Wilmington.”
I cast him a wary glance. “And stay the night?”
“What? Are you afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”
He waggles his brows, a clear sign that he’s messing around. But the memories of his skin beneath my hands and his mouth between my legs and his soft bites at my neck are just too potent for me to say anything but, “Yes.”
“Well,” he says, dropping his voice an octave that slides straight down my spine, “maybe that’s the point.”
***
Against all better judgment, I agree to go.
Back in my bedroom, I sift through the clutter that has begun to accumulate on the floor, deciding what I’ll need for a night away. The amount of shit I brought from New York seems asinine as I pick out a change of shorts and crop top, underwear, and only the most basic toiletries. Daniel will supposedly be shipping the rest of my things soon. Nothing still at his apartment has any value besides monetary; it’ll be mostly clothes that I probably won’t even want. I should have told him not to bother.
While I'm packing, I realize that I didn’t bring a swimsuit and make a mental note to grab one on the road. I zip up my duffel bag, preparing to flick it into the corner, when a flash of pink catches my eye.
It’s my vibrator, peeking out from its hiding spot beneath my pillow. My cheeks immediately heat when I think of how many nights I’ve laid in this bed and gotten myself off, thinking about Theo while he slept, oblivious, down the hall. How many times, if we’re being completely honest, I did the same thing in my mom’s house. In Daniel’s apartment.
I stare at it, wondering if I should slip it into my bag. I’ve internally sworn that I won’t sleep with Theo in Wilmington, but I don’t even believe myself. And he did say that he wanted to watch...
“Sass?”
Theo’s voice tears me from my wandering thoughts, preventingthem from derailing completely. My head snaps up, my spine straightens, and I whirl to face him. He’s leaning on the doorframe, hair damp from the shower, wearing black joggers and a Tar Heels t-shirt speckled with water.
In an instant, I know thatI’m going to fold. Maybe now. Maybe in Wilmington. Maybe further down the road, if I can hold out that long. But it’s time to face facts: no matter where I am, no matter what I do, I will always be on the brink of running back to Theo Hoyt.
“You okay?” he asks, walking into the room. “You were just staring into space.”
“Yeah.” I move to the side, trying to block his view of the bed. “Fine. Just thinking.”
Theo looks at me with a frown, his eyes searching mine, and then looks pastmy shoulder. I hold my breath as he scans the bed. When his catches on a sharp inhale, I know I’ve been caught.
“Shit,” he tells me, mischievous smirk firmly in place. I could be kissing it in half a second. I know he wouldn’t push me away. “Right before I came in here, I told myself that I was going to be a gentleman tonight.”
We’re standing so close now. I can smell the remnants of his soap and shampoo. I toss my head in what I hope is a confident, unruffled manner, even though inside, I’m shaking. “Only tonight?”
His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him do that before. Based on the way my thighs immediately clench, I think I would remember if I had. “I booked separate hotel rooms for Wilmington,” he says, a strain in his voice. “I’m trying, Nina.”
I know that he is. Theo is trying so hard to be there for me without pushing too much, to let me know I’m cared for without creating expectations. If I allowed it, he would give me whatever I want, whatever I need, and never ask for anything in return.
I won’t allow it. Not anymore.
“I was thinking about bringing it to Wilmington,” I say, crowding into his space. His eyes widen momentarily before his hands findmy hips. “What do you think?”
“You know what I think.”
“Yeah?” I lean up to kiss him. His mouth is warm and responsive, instantly opening against mine. For a few seconds, it’s a fierce back-and-forth. He presses his body against me; I press back harder. All I taste is him; in the next instant, I make sure that all he tastes is me. We both give. We both take.
Until I pull back, trailing my palms slowly down his front, and sink onto my knees. My fingers linger on his abs, and when I glance up, I see Theo watching me with an expression that somehow manages to contain both arousal and concern.
“Nina, are you sure you want--”
“Yes,” I interrupt. “Unless you don’t.”
The bark of laughter that escapes him is a little strangled, as if he’s short on air. “Does it seem like I don’t want it?”
In response, I curl my fingers over his waistband. Our heavy breathing is the only sound in the room as I pull at his joggers, letting them slip over his hips and thighs until they’re pooled around his ankles. My hands are shaking a little when they return for his boxers; his hands close over mine, gently guiding, and we take care of them together.
Then he is there , heavy and hard in front of me. I bat my hair out of my eyes, letting out a shaky exhale that washes over him; he shudders, thighs clenching, as his hands fold over my shoulders.
“Nina,” he murmurs, “look in my pocket."
I tilt my head back, studying his striking jaw from this new angle. “Why?”
“For your hair.”
I’m still confused, but I feel around for his pants and wedge my fingers inside the pocket. They close around something soft. I pull it out, and it’s the black scrunchie that I was wearing the night of our first time, the one I last saw in Theo’s childhood bedroom.
“You’re just walking around with this?” I ask him.
Shrugging, he combs his fingers through my hair, holding it in a ponytail at the nape of my neck. I take it from him and secure it with the scrunchie. “Came in handy, didn’t it?”
I don’t respond; instead, I slide my hand over him, giving him a couple of experimental pumps. Right in front of me, his stomach ripples with the sensation. I lean in until my lips meet his crown, and as I slowly take him into my mouth, I look up through my lashes to see his head thrown back, the tendons in his neck protruding sharply.
“Fucking hell,” Theo groans. His hands are back on my head, just resting there. I love that he doesn’t push. I love that he just takes what I give him. “You’re so good.”
Pleased, I press as close as I can, holding onto his legs for balance. The tip of my nose bumps his abdomen at the same moment he hits the back of my throat. I like being filled by him, but I don’t have time to get used to the sensation before he’s pulling out, grasping my arms, dragging me to my feet.
“What?” I ask, breathless. “Why did you stop me?”
He hauls me close and presses his nose into my cheek. For a long moment, we breathe together, wrapped in each other’s arms.
“Will you lay on the bed?” he whispers against me. He runs his hands up beneath my shirt, tracing the ridges of my spine. “ Please.”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Whatever self-control I thought I possessed is officially lost. There’s salt on my tongue and a mattress bumping the back of my knees, and I think about that first time: the blanket, the truck, the cicadas.
The sky.
I pull back and put a hand to his face. “Your bed,” I say. “Under the stars.”
Theo grins at me, absolutely blinding, and we take off. He seems to forget that his pants are around his ankles; he trips after two steps, barely managing to regain his balance before he faceplants. I howl with laughter and run down the hall, grinning as soon as I hear his footsteps thundering behind me.
In his bedroom, the skylight is already open. We only have the moon and stars to see by as we finish undressing—just like that first time. I lay back on a soft blanket, just like that first time. I listen as he tears open a condom, and I count the stars until he moves over me.
Just like that first time.
Theo balances on one elbow, and with the stars behind him, I’m hit with an overwhelming sense of déjàvu. One hand smooths my hair off my forehead; the other trails across my collarbone and over my breasts, teasing my nipples into tight peaks. “How many stars did you count?”
“I only got to sixteen.” I lean up to kiss him briefly. “You were quick.”
“Hopefully that doesn’t continue,” he says, and my quiet laugh turns into a sigh when his fingers dip between my legs. “Are you ready?”
I arc into his hand. “I don’t know. Check.”
He presses a finger inside of me for just a second; he’s there and gone so quick that I barely have time to gasp before he’s spreading his hand, dragging my arousal around my inner thighs. “Feels that way to me.”
“Then I’m ready.”
Theo doesn’t need another word. He settles himself on top of me, grasping me behind the knee to hitch my leg up and over his hip, and enters me in one smooth thrust.
“Oh!” I cry out, because this is not the slow, hesitant, little-by-little sex of our last summer together. This is sex between two people who have history and experience, and as much as I hate thinking of him getting that experience after me, I have to admit that I’m enjoying the benefits.
“It’s alright,” Theo says, squeezing the flesh of my thigh. He draws halfway out of me and then slams in again. I whimper—not from pain, but from the total overwhelm of having him around and inside of me after so long. “You can take it, honey. You always did before.”
“Not like this,” I argue, winding my arms around his neck and pulling him down to me. Our kiss is messy, a little sloppy, in accordance with his quick thrusts. “Theo--”
“I got you, Sass.” He traces a thumb down the side of my face. “I got you.”
Our gazes hold. I’m just about to lose myself in his eyes completely before they dart to the side, to my scar. For what feels like an interminable second, he stares at it; then he’s back to looking in my eyes, driving into me again and again, as if he never looked away.
But even as I’m physically pushed toward release, that short moment has snagged in my mind, cooling the embers in my belly. I put my hands on either side of Theo’s face and hold him there until he realizes that I’m wanting to say something.
“What?” he asks, slowing.
A bead of sweat rolls down his nose; I brush it away with my thumb. “Do you hate the way I look now?” My voice is quiet—it's a question I don’t want to ask, but have to.
For his part, Theo looks startled. “What?”
“You were looking here, just now,” I say, touching my scar.
His face softens in realization, and he shakes his head, resolute. “No. No, Nina, what I was thinking was—I don't think I've ever seen you look as beautiful as you do right now.”
“Oh,” I say, a little subdued. I think back to every comment my mother ever made lamenting my birthmark, steadily chipping away at my confidence. I don’t want to hear that I looked better as a teenager, but I don’t want to hear this, either. I should have kept my mouth shut. “I thought you didn’t like that I’d had work done.”
“It’s not about that.” Theo gives a little pump of his hips, reminding me that he’s still buried inside of me. A moan rises in the back of my throat, and I swallow it down. “To me, this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been. Not because you weren’t beautiful before, but because this is the way you came back to me.”
“Oh,” I say again, and I feel like I can breathe. I run my hands up the smooth skin of his biceps, taking his stubbled face in my palms. My heart swells with affection as I hold him there. He’s every version of himself in that moment: the boy I grew up with, the teenager who made me feel things I’d never felt before, the only man to ever own my heart completely. “Theo.”
“Hmm.”
“I love you.”
It’s the first time I’ve said it without so much —for us, the shorter version is the more meaningful. He doesn’t seem surprised, though; his lips drift upward into a lazy, soft smile, and he pecks me on the mouth.“I love you too.”
“Love you so much,” I throw in for good measure.
“So much,” he echoes. He sits up, pulling out of me and rolling away; I have only a second to whine before we’re spooning, my back to his front, and he’s pulling my top leg back over his hip, and then he’s pushing back inside. The new angle is different, deeper; from the first stroke, I’m grinding my hips back into his. We come together again and again until Theo warningly says, “Nina...”
“Don’t stop,” I beg. One of his arms is banding over my stomach.; I grab onto it and hold. “Please, Theo, oh my--”
“Take it,” he growls, just like that day in his truck. I want to record Theo saying take it in this demanding, rumbly tone so I can play it back whenever I want for the rest of my life. His hand falls down between my legs and he circles my clit, drawing a moan from me. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Yes,” he repeats, and as if on command, the tension in my body coils tight and then unravels. I gasp and buck; he holds me still and fucks me through it, coaxing aftershocks with his fingers. My world is just beginning to right itself when Theo shouts into my ear, curls himself over my back, and empties himself inside of me.
We lay tangled together for a minute or two, catching our breath, until he asks, “Are you okay?”
“I’m amazing,” I say truthfully, looking back at him over my shoulder. “You?”
“Same.”
He withdraws from me carefully, gripping the bottom of the condom so it doesn’t spill. I stare unabashedly at his bare ass as he walks into the bathroom to dispose of it; when he emerges, he stands next to the bed, and I enjoy the full-frontal view.
“When we go to Wilmington on Saturday,” he tells me, “bring that vibrator.”
“Done,” I say, draping myself comfortably over a pillow. “You’re in charge of the condoms.”
Theo grins. “Deal.”