22 | Gentleman Shit
TESSA
I couldn’t sleep.
Or maybe I had, and woke up again—it was hard to tell at this point.
The room was dark. Quiet, except for the steady rhythm of Theo breathing beside me.
My head was still buzzing—wine, emotions, and the memory of Vanessa’s hand on his arm bleeding into each other. I stared at the ceiling, trying to latch onto something neutral.
Counting sheep didn’t help.
Thinking definitely didn’t help.
Especially not with him right there, inches away, the quiet heat of his body reaching me even through the space between us.
“Can’t sleep?”
His voice cut softly through the dark, and I jumped.
“Did I wake you?” I whispered.
“I wasn’t asleep.”
Of course he wasn’t.
We lay there for a moment without speaking, the silence stretching—not uncomfortable, but charged in a way I couldn’t ignore.
“It’s been a while,” I said finally. “Since we talked like this. In the dark.”
A quiet exhale that might have been a laugh.
“We used to do this all the time. You’d talk until you fell asleep mid-sentence.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did. You’d be right in the middle of something and then just—” he made a soft, exaggerated snoring sound.
I smiled before I could stop myself.
The wine was still in my system, softening the edges of everything. Making it easier to move, to speak, to not overthink every step.
I turned onto my side, facing him.
He shifted too.
We couldn’t see each other clearly—just shapes, outlines—but the space between us felt smaller now. Thinner.
“Theo?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I—”
I didn’t finish the sentence.
My hand moved anyway.
Found his chest.
His breath caught—sharp, immediate—and I felt it under my palm.
My hand settled there, over his heart. Even through the fabric of his t-shirt, I could feel how fast it was beating.
Too fast.
Not calm. Not even close.
“Tessa…” he murmured.
I moved closer before I could think better of it. My hand slid up—his shoulder, his neck—the heat of his skin making my fingers tingle.
“What are you doing?” His voice was tighter now.
“I don’t know.”
It was the truth.
My fingers traced along his collarbone, then lower, following the shape of him without seeing it. My own pulse kicked up, loud in my throat.
His hand closed around mine.
Stopped me.
“We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ve been drinking. And I told you—”
“I know what you told me.” Frustration edged into my voice before I could stop it. “But I’m not incapable of making decisions.”
I pulled my hand free.
“I can be exciting too.”
He went very still.
“What?”
“Is that it?” The words came faster now, harder to control. “Am I too—too good? Too boring? Too—”
“Tessa, what are you talking about?”
“I don’t want to be a lady all the time, Theo.”
Silence.
Heavy this time.
“I’m going to need you to explain that,” he said carefully.
I rolled onto my back and covered my face with my hands, heat rushing up my neck.
“Charles used to say that,” I muttered. “That I was too much of a lady for certain… things.”
“What things?”
I groaned quietly. “You know. Things.”
“What things, Tessa?”
“Anything that wasn’t…” I dropped my hands, staring up at the ceiling. “Basic. Safe. Wanting sex, I guess.”
Theo made a low sound.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
But it went straight through me anyway.
“He said that to you?”
“He said I was too good for that. That girls like me didn’t—shouldn’t want—” I stopped, swallowing. “He wouldn’t do that with someone he saw as wife material.”
“Tessa—”
“And then I walked in on him.”
The words came out flatter than I expected.
“She wasn’t even embarrassed. And he told me later it didn’t mean anything. That she was just…” I let out a short, humorless breath. “The kind of girl you do things with. Not the kind you keep.”
The silence that followed pressed in from all sides.
“And the worst part?” My voice dropped. “I believed him. For a second.” I swallowed hard. “But deep down I knew. I just wasn’t the right girl.”
A beat.
“I wasn’t too good. I just wasn’t enough.”
The bed shifted.
Suddenly Theo was over me, braced on his hands, caging me in.
I couldn’t see his face properly, but I felt him—solid, controlled in a way that felt anything but calm.
“Do you feel this?” His voice was rough. Raw.
“What—”
And then he shifted. Pressed closer.
And I felt it.
The hard length of him against my hip.
Heat flooded through me.
My skin suddenly too tight.
?This is a reason why I can’t sleep”
Oh.
“Do you feel how much I want you?” he demanded. “How hard it is for me to lie next to you and not—”
My hand moved without permission.
He caught it immediately. Both wrists this time, pinned above my head.
“Don’t.”
“Theo—”
“Listen to me.” His grip tightened just slightly, enough to hold me still. “Charles was a fucking idiot who never deserved you.”
Then he kissed me.
Soft.
Completely at odds with the tension in his body.
My heart hammered. Every point of contact burned.
When he pulled back, his voice was steadier—but not by much.
“I will do anything you want. Anything. But I need you present for it. Fully there.”
“I am—”
“You’re not. Not yet.” His thumb brushed my cheek, slower this time. “I’m not letting your first time with me be about wine and insecurity and someone else’s voice in your head.”
Not casual.
Not light.
“This isn’t going to be nothing,” he added, quieter. “Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
He kissed me again.
Deeper.
I felt it everywhere—chest, stomach, lower—like something was building and had nowhere to go.
When he pulled back, his breathing was uneven.
“I’m going to let go of your hands,” he said. “And I’m going to move away. But you can’t touch me.”
“What?”
“If you touch me right now—” He stopped. “All of this gentleman shit goes out the window. And I don’t want that. So I need you to promise me you won’t touch me.”
My throat went dry.
“Okay.”
“Say it.”
“I won’t touch you.”
A pause.
“Good girl.”
The words hit low and sharp, heat spreading through me before I could stop it.
He released me slowly, like he didn’t trust either of us to keep the distance.
His hand lingered for a second, tracing down my arm.
“I can feel your heart racing,” he said.
“I know.”
“Tomorrow.” It sounded like he was reminding himself as much as me. “Tomorrow I’m going to—”
He stopped. Swallowed hard.
“What?” I breathed. “What are you going to do?”
“Everything.” His voice was rough.
My breath caught.
Heat pooling low in my belly.
“But tonight—” He pulled his hand away. The loss of contact made me want to reach for him. “Tonight I’m going to take a very cold shower and try not to think about you lying here. In this bed. Looking like—” He didn’t finish.
Just rolled off me. Got out of bed. I watched his silhouette move across the room in the darkness.
The bathroom door closed and I lay there in the dark.
Heart hammering.
Body aching.
----
The water ran for a long time.
My skin still burned where he’d touched me.
My pulse refused to settle.
The water finally stopped.
The door opened, letting steam drift into the room.
He came back in quieter this time, damp hair, t-shirt clinging slightly to his skin.
“You’re not asleep,” he said.
“No.”
He lay back down, turning his head slightly toward me.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want me to forget everything I just said.”
Heat crept up my neck. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just—sleep.”
A pause.
“What if tomorrow I’m not brave enough to ask?”
Silence.
Then he shifted closer.
“Then I’ll ask you first.”
“How?”
“I won’t give you a way out.”
My heart skipped.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He leaned in, pressed a soft, quick kiss to my lips.
Then settled back.
“Go to sleep, Tessa.”
“Okay.”
This time, I did.
Not right away.
But eventually.
With his warmth still there, just close enough.
And the promise of tomorrow sitting heavy in my chest.
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