17. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN #2
Theo tilts his head, teeth scraping over his lip ring, his eyes flicking between mine. “And you’re in denial.”
“No, I’m not.”
His hands slide around my hips beneath the water, a shiver running through me at the touch.
His fingers bite into my skin, and the satisfaction that flickers across his face makes me want to shove him away almost as badly as I want to know what he’s going to do next.
“Prove it,” he says quietly.
“How exactly am I supposed to-”
He pulls me into him, and his mouth is right there, so close his next breath touches mine. Lips parted. That fucking silver ring. Barely an inch between us.
“Kiss me.”
A strained laugh escapes me. “You’re insane.”
“Kiss me,” he repeats, softer this time, tipping his head until his nose brushes mine and his breath spills warm across my lips. “And tell me you don’t like it.”
My heart pounds painfully, caught between the urge to shove him away and one that scares me considerably more. My fingers flex uselessly at my sides, the distance between our mouths shrinking with every breath.
I wet my lips.
Theo watches my tongue pass over them, his lips parting as his fingers dig deeper into my waist.
Fuck.
I feel that everywhere.
Theo’s pupils dilate, swallowing more of the green, and a hot pull answers low in my stomach.
His finger skim up my side, tracing my ribs with a softness that makes my breath hitch. I know what those hands feel like when they grab, when they hold, when they refuse to let me fall. This barely-there touch is somehow worse.
Palm curling around my jaw, he draws me closer, my eyes closing.
I don’t even realise I’ve done it until his thumb passes over my bottom lip, a shaky breath slipping out.
My hand finds his chest, his heart hammering. It pounds, completely at odds with the slow sweep of his thumb and the careful way he’s holding my face.
“Theo,” I breathe.
His thumb pauses, and I swallow, my palm still pressed over the frantic beat of his heart.
“Stop.”
He eases back, jaw clenching, watching my face as his hand slips from my jaw, the other leaving my waist.
Water rushes in, cold where his body was. Every place he was touching me a second ago left bare enough that I feel the loss of it.
Theo hums quietly, the smile pulling at his mouth sitting wrong, missing every trace of the smugness I’ve spent weeks wanting to knock off his face.
“Thought so.”
“What?” I snap, hating how exposed I feel without his hands on me.
Theo looks down with a short, humourless laugh before meeting my eyes again.
“You’re scared.”
“I’m not-”
“If kissing me was really nothing,” he cuts in, “you would’ve done it already.”
He shrugs and turns away from me, apparently satisfied that he gets to tell me exactly what I’m feeling and then walk off.
Maybe it’s the certainty in his voice, or the fact he’s decided he has me figured out. Maybe it’s worse than that, because he stopped the second I told him to, and now he gets to walk away while every place he touched me is still screaming with the absence of him.
My hand closes around his hip, pulling him back towards me, turning him into my body and catching his mouth with mine.
Fuck.
His lips are warm and completely still.
For the first time since I met him, Theo freezes.
His hands hover at my sides, breath catching against my mouth, and instead of making me hesitate, having Theo completely speechless beneath me only makes me tighten my hold.
My hand moves from his hip to his jaw, fingers closing firmly as I angle his face and kiss him again, this time exactly the way I want to. Theo makes a small, broken sound against my mouth, and whatever restraint I had left disappears with it.
His lips finally move beneath mine, tentative for barely a second before he gives in and kisses me back.
There’s nothing lazy about Theo now, none of the teasing confidence he’s been hiding behind all afternoon. He kisses me back with enough hunger to steal what little breath I have left, and when his lips part beneath mine, I push my tongue into his mouth.
A groan catches somewhere between us.
He tastes faintly of smoke, and I chase it deeper. Theo’s teeth close around my bottom lip, the sharp sting making my fingers dig into his back as I pull him harder against me, even though there isn’t an inch left to take.
The cold stops mattering. So does the lake, the trees, the bike sitting somewhere behind us, every reason I had five minutes ago for why this couldn’t possibly be something I wanted.
Because I’m kissing Theo.
And I fucking want it.
I want his mouth opening beneath mine. I want the broken little sounds catching in his throat every time I take the kiss deeper, want the way his body gives when I hold him exactly where I want him.
A heavy throb between my legs cuts through everything.
My cock is hard.
Against Theo.
I tear myself away, air hitting my lungs as I stumble back, breathing through my mouth while Theo rocks backwards from the sudden loss of me.
His lips are red and swollen from mine, wet where his tongue swipes over them, his chest rising hard. He just stands there staring back at me, pupils blown wide, looking thoroughly fucking wrecked.
Because of me.
The urge to grab him again comes so quickly it scares me more than being hard ever could.
I curl my hands into fists.
“Happy now?” My voice scrapes on the way out, forcing me to clear my throat before I can make myself meet his eyes properly. “It didn’t change a thing.”
His breathing still hasn’t settled, eyes flicking over my face.
“Right,” he croaks, quieter than I expect.
No teasing. No smug little smile. Nothing for me to push back against.
And somehow that feels worse.