Brynne
I lifted my arms above my head, sighing softly as the muscles in my back stretched. After a dinner of too many carbs—and a dessert consisting of the biggest milkshakes I’d ever seen—we settled into the theater room to watch one of the latest movies.
It was impossible to keep my gaze off Theo. He sat across the room, eyes on me as he lounged on one of the many couches, feet kicked up, arm behind his head, a lazy, arrogant look on his face that was just so fucking infuriating, but also ridiculously hot.
By the time the movie was over, Scout was dozing, so Theo carried her up to her room to put her to bed. He told me to stay, so I did.
But now that time had passed, and reality was setting in, I was beginning to think maybe I should just leave. I should disappear into the night like I was never here.
Everything about tonight had felt so normal . So relaxed.
It was easy being around Scout, even easier being around Theo. But I couldn’t delude myself into believing that we could ever be anything other than this to each other.
Anything other than friends—who occasionally secretly sexted on a dating app.
The kiss was…it was indescribable. It was all the things I’d written about in my journal as a little girl. I even had that fairytale moment where my foot kicked up like Anne Hathaway in that one movie.
Even though I knew this couldn’t go anywhere—for more reasons than one—a part of me didn’t care. The other night, I’d decided I wanted to do something wild. Something selfish.
And Theo was my recklessness.
He was my impulsiveness.
And that was all he’d ever be.
“Good. You’re still here.”
I jolted at the sound of Theo’s voice, nearly leaping off the sofa. My hand went to the center of my chest, and I took a deep breath in.
“God, you scared me.” The corner of his mouth tucked up, but he said nothing. Just stared at me with soft eyes. I cleared my throat, averting my gaze, needing to look anywhere but at him—at that expression. “How is she?”
He sank into the other end of the couch, just a cushion separating us. It was like a repeat of the party—close enough to reach over and touch, far enough away to keep that wall up.
Sighing, he ran his fingers through his thick dark hair. Gray peeked out at his temples, more than I’d seen before, and I wasn’t sure if that was because he’d stopped dying it or if it was because he was more stressed than usual.
I didn’t know if he dyed it, but he seemed like the type who would.
“She’s exhausted,” he said. “I told her I’d get her up early so we could go for a run in the morning. Get those endorphins pumping—I hear exercise is supposed to be good for cramps.”
I gaped at him.
He couldn’t be serious.
“And…what did she say?”
“Something along the lines of, ‘If you wake me up before noon, I’ll key your car.’”
My head fell back as I laughed, the sound vibrating off the walls. “She’s so much like Trin,” I said, giggling. “It’s freaky, honestly.”
“Right?” He turned toward me, resting his arm along the back of the couch. “They even look alike.”
“I know . And that look they both do?”
“The one where they’re calling you a dumbass without ever saying the words?”
“Yes!” I grabbed his arm, still laughing. “If you put them next to each other, they look like sisters.”
“They act like the same person,” he grumbled, but a smile spread on his lips. “Trin was never a wild teenager. Maybe I’ll get lucky and Scout won’t be, either.”
“Yeah, something tells me she’s going to give you a run for your money.”
“Probably.”
His thumb grazed the inside of my wrist, and my laughter slowly faded, my smile softening. “You didn’t leave,” he said quietly.
“You told me not to.”
“And you’re always this good at obeying orders?”
My brow lifted. “Don’t get carried away, Playboy.”
That cocky, arrogant smirk returned to his face as he stroked his thumb along my wrist again. It was just a swipe over my pulse, a soft, ticklish touch, but it was enough to send shockwave after shockwave through my body.
It was ridiculous. I knew it was.
The way he’d touched me the other night had been a million times more intense than this. More passionate, more possessive.
This was gentle . It was soft.
But it coaxed feelings from the depths of my body I didn’t know even existed.
“What if I want to get carried away?” he murmured, his eyes flicking between mine.
Tingles spread across my skin like kisses from a thousand little fireflies, warm awareness settling deep in my belly. He stared at me—stared and stared, like I was the only person left on earth.
I didn’t think it was just lust in his gaze, not awe or longing. It was something else entirely—something I didn’t have a name for, but something I felt sear me to my core. It was aching, and dangerous, and something that I desperately wanted to explore.
There was the briefest moment of hesitation, then he slid across the couch, closing the distance between us. His arm draped around my shoulders, gently tugging me into his chest. I rested my palm there, his heart a wild, thumping beast beneath it.
“Are you nervous?” I whispered, the words barely audible past my lips.
“You make me nervous, Red. You always have.”
His voice was raw, raspy , a hidden truth tucked away between the letters. I knew he meant every word, every too-long gaze in my direction over the years. Looks I’d brushed off, pretending like he was just teasing me. That his flirting was fake .
But with the way he spoke now, the look in his eyes, it told another story. It told a story of a man who’d fought his feelings just as I had.
A story of a man who’d continue to.
“I can’t stop thinking about the way you tasted,” he murmured, his fingertips brushing my cheek as he tucked hair behind my ear. His breath mingled with mine, and slowly our heartbeats synced into one rhythm. “If I try to kiss you, will you dodge me again?”
“I was at my job,” I said, trying to huff out a laugh, though it came out like a breathless, nervous sound.
“You’re not there now.” He twirled red strands around his finger, but his eyes never left mine. “Let me kiss you.”
It wasn’t a question. Not a demand.
It was a haughty, arrogant statement. Like he knew what the answer would be, but he was saying the words because that was what you did. You asked permission before you kissed someone—even if you knew the answer was yes.
I dipped my chin in a subtle nod—it was all I could do.
My body trembled with anticipation, with need .
Slowly, he moved closer, his lips caressing mine in the faintest touch.
I melted into him as he teased me, worked me higher and higher until I was moments away from taking matters into my own hands.
But then his lips were on mine—full, warm lips that demanded every bit of my attention. The room faded away, the house, the ocean, the world. Soon, it was just the two of us, connected solely by our lips, our tongues, our teeth. He held me like I was precious, like I’d slip away.
Yet, for as gentle as he was, there was a possessiveness to his touch, an arrogance like I already belonged to him. He wasn’t afraid to explore my mouth like he owned it, and I wasn’t afraid to give myself wholly to him.
To give up any semblance of control I thought I wanted, and let him have it all. Let him call the shots, guide me the way he wanted me. I wanted him to tell me exactly what to do, how to make him happy, how to make him feel good.
And in turn, I knew he’d do the same.
I trusted his expert touch along my body, the way his lips moved in tandem with mine like he’d kissed me a million times before. He wasn't awkward or fumbling.
He was perfect.
Every bit of him was perfect.
His hands fell to my hips, and he effortlessly slid me onto his lap. I straddled him, my fingers immediately diving into his thick hair. We breathed into each other, our kiss never breaking, his hands never leaving my body.
They roamed over me, exploring parts he didn’t get to the other night. I felt him beneath his pants, hard and unyielding. I ground against him, and a moan left me, one that didn’t sound like a noise I’d ever made.
His fingers flexed on the generous curve of my ass. “Do that again,” he rasped against me, his lips sticky with my lip balm. “Do it and don’t stop until I tell you to.”
I rocked my hips back and forth, the seam of my jeans mixing with the hardness between us, rubbing against my clit in a way that made me see stars. His head fell back, fingers tightening.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathed. The long, strong column of his throat was exposed, veins popping and muscles straining.
Without thinking, I leaned forward, dragging my tongue up the center.
“Oh, fuck.” His hand came down on my ass, and I gasped at the sudden impact.
“Do that again. Fuck, do it again, Red.”
He was nearly begging, his voice low and guttural. My tongue traced his veins before finding his racing pulse. I wrapped my lips around it, sucking gently until a loud groan ripped from his throat.
His hand dove into my hair, and he yanked my head back. We stared at each other for only a moment, then his lips were on mine again, this time without the softness I’d expected.
This time, he was rough, demanding .
My lower stomach tightened as he jerked my head back once more, exposing my throat this time. He sucked all over my skin, hard enough I knew I’d have hickies everywhere— his marks .
I didn’t care, though. I wanted them. Wanted everyone to wonder who gave them to me, but it would stay our little secret.
“Let’s go to my room,” he rasped. “I want to lay you out on my bed and taste your dripping cunt. I want to?—”
“No,” I whispered, and he froze. His body tensed under mine, his muscles going taut. Slowly, he pulled away, his brows creasing.
“No?” he repeated.
“I want to,” I said softly. “But it would be a mistake.”
“ What would be a mistake?”