25. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CONNOR
There’s no reason for me to still be holding him.
My hand is still firm around Theo’s hip, my face buried in the warm crook of his neck while I breathe against his damp skin. Neither of us has moved, and with every second that passes, it gets harder to pretend I haven’t noticed.
“I should-” The words die against Theo’s skin, my lips brushing his neck as I swallow. I press my face deeper into the warm hollow beneath his jaw, stealing another few seconds. “Pull out,” I manage eventually.
Theo hums against me, low and exhausted, the vibration catching beneath my lips, my fingers flexing around his hip trying to keep him there.
Instead, I force my grip to loosen and ease away, cold air slipping into the space between us while I straighten my clothes with hands that refuse to stay completely steady.
Theo turns slowly beneath my hand, and I keep hold of his hip until he’s facing me, telling myself it’s because his legs still look unsteady.
His breath catches warm against my mouth, a small, crooked smile pulling at swollen lips as my gaze slips lower, taking in the state of him.
His jeans are still sitting low on his hips, shirt twisted across damp skin, hair wrecked from my hands, and the red marks scattered down his throat darken where my mouth lingered.
I did that, and the hot curl of satisfaction in my stomach is there before I can do a fucking thing about it.
My gaze jerks back to his face as though not looking at the marks anymore will do anything about how much I liked seeing them.
His eyes drop between us with a quiet huff, and his fingers brush my stomach as he reaches for my zipper. My breath catches when he pulls it up, his knuckles brushing over my spent cock through the thin cotton of my boxers before he fastens the button.
I look up and find him already watching me, pupils still blown wide enough to swallow most of the green.
I shouldn’t like it this much, and yet my hand is already moving, fingers catching the damp strand of hair falling across his forehead.
I could stop there, but my fingers keep moving, slipping from his temple over the warm curve of his cheek until my thumb settles against his jaw. Theo goes still beneath my hand, and it takes me another second to realise I’m not moving his hair anymore. I’m just touching him.
Fuck. What am I doing?
“Don’t,” Theo murmurs.
My fingers still against his jaw. He looks at me without any of his usual teasing, and my tongue swipes over my bottom lip, catching the lingering taste of him.
Theo gives a faint shake of his head, his gaze dropping between us. “At least wait until I can stand before you run away.”
The quiet laugh he lets out afterwards should make it sound like a joke, but it doesn’t. My stomach clenches as his words find the panic I’ve been trying not to look at too closely, the part of me already pulling in opposite directions while my hand is still resting against his face.
“I’m not-”
I stop before the denial can make it all the way out, because what the fuck am I supposed to follow it with?
I’m not running? I woke up in his bed and left without saying a word.
I spent days pretending the kiss hadn’t meant anything because that was easier than admitting I’d wanted it, and tonight I shoved him away the second having his arm around me started feeling too fucking good.
Now I’m standing here with my hand still against his face, wanting to keep it there while panic crawls higher into my chest with every second that passes.
I press my lips together and give him a stiff nod instead, because it’s the only answer I can give him without lying.
I lean in and brush my mouth over his, barely thinking about it before I’m kissing him. It’s softer than anything we’ve done tonight, uncertain enough that I feel exposed the moment our lips touch.
Theo jerks back, his head hitting the wall, eyes shooting over my shoulder instead of meeting mine.
For one horrible second, I think I’ve got this completely wrong.
“You don’t have to,” he says roughly.
I catch his chin and turn his face back towards me. “Do you not want me to?”
I hate how uncertain the question sounds, hate even more that Theo doesn’t answer it. He pulls free with a small shake of his head and mutters, “I need to head out,” already slipping around me before I’ve worked out what the hell just happened.
Grabbing his wrist, I yank him back around. “I thought I was supposed to run?”
“I thought I was supposed to run?” My grip tightens around his wrist. Fuck him. He doesn’t get to throw that at me and then be the first one to leave.
Theo’s jaw clenches. “I’m not running. I’m saving myself.”
“From what?”
I pull him closer, and Theo stumbles into me until our bodies knock together. He goes still, green eyes moving over my face before his mouth presses into a hard line and his gaze drops again.
Fuck that. I catch his face between my hands and kiss him, dragging him back into me before he can put that distance between us again.
I have no fucking clue what happens when we leave this alley, and right now I don’t care.
He’s here, I want him here, and I’m not ready for him to be the one who walks away.
My fingers dig deeper into his cheeks as I kiss him, pouring every bit of frustration I can’t put into words straight into his mouth. Theo gasps against me, and I swallow the sound, tongue slipping between his lips as I pull him closer.
He gives in, mouth moving against mine, only to start pulling back again before I’m ready to let him.
“At least let me take you home,” I murmur. “We just-”
The rest sticks in my throat because I have no idea what to call what just happened without making it real in a way I’m nowhere near ready for. My forehead drops against his with a frustrated sigh.
“You couldn’t even walk a minute ago. Let me take you home.”
I catch my bottom lip between my teeth while Theo studies me, waiting for whatever argument he’s inevitably going to throw back. Instead, he leans into my hands, his thumb catching my lip and pulling it gently free before smoothing over the sting.
“This is so fucked,” he mutters.
A breath escapes me that’s almost a laugh because, yeah. It really is.
Theo kisses me again before I can say it, slower this time, and the last of the fight seems to leave him as his mouth sinks into mine.
“Come on. I’ll text Marcus,” I breathe, putting enough space between us that I can actually think and turn towards the car before Theo can pull me back into whatever keeps happening every time we touch.
Walking gives me something to do, somewhere to look that isn’t his swollen mouth or the marks I left across his skin.
It doesn’t stop me feeling him everywhere.
***
By the time we get back to Theo’s, the drive has done absolutely nothing to help.
I’ve had twenty minutes with my hands to myself, my eyes fixed on the road and enough silence to get my head straight, and somehow I’m still walking into his bedroom with the taste of him in my mouth and no idea what happens now.
The door clicks shut behind me, my shoulders drawing up at the sound. I don’t know why the closed door matters when I was alone with Theo in an alley twenty minutes ago, but it does.
My boxers are damp beneath my jeans, fabric clinging uncomfortably to my skin, and I can’t ignore the evidence of what we just did with Theo standing right there. I hook a finger beneath the collar of my shirt and tug it away from my neck, eyes slipping to the bathroom door.
A shower.
I need a shower.
“You mind if I, uh-” I nod towards the bathroom, but the word refuses to come out, which is ridiculous. I’ve walked into his room without knocking, stolen his shit, argued with him while he’s half-dressed.
Now I can’t even ask to use his bathroom.
I rub the back of my neck. “Shower.”
“Go ahead.”
Theo’s already working open the buttons of his shirt, and my hand stills at the back of my neck as the fabric gradually parts beneath his fingers.
My gaze follows despite every reason it shouldn’t, catching on flushed skin and the marks scattered across his chest before settling on the darker one near his collarbone.
Mine.
Heat rushes up my neck, and I drag my eyes away, turning towards the bathroom before I can stand here staring at the evidence of what we just did like an idiot.
“Theo?”
He hums, and when I glance back, he’s already coming towards me with his shirt hanging open.
I stay where I am as he closes the distance, pulse picking up with every step until he’s right there, and I can feel the heat coming off his bare skin.
“What’s up?” he asks, shrugging his shirt from his shoulders and tossing it towards the laundry basket.
I should go shower, but I’m still standing there watching Theo turn away from me, the same question that’s been eating at me since we left the alley refusing to stay buried.
“Do you regret it?”
Theo pauses with his back half turned, and the sharp breath he takes is small enough that I might have missed it if I wasn’t watching him so closely. By the time he looks at me, the surprise is already disappearing, his features settling into careful indifference but not quickly enough.
“Fucking hell.” He drags a hand over his jaw. “Are you seriously asking me if I regret sleeping with my best friend’s straight kid brother?”
My back goes up. “I’m not his kid brother-”
“You might as well be for how fucking off limits you are.”
I stare at him, frustration prickling beneath my skin, because he’s talking about Marcus and rules and every reason this was a terrible idea, when none of that tells me whether he’d take back what happened between us if he could.
“Whatever. That’s not what I meant anyway,” I say, looking away.
Theo hooks his fingers into the waistband of his jeans and stops. I’m still watching his hands when his brow lifts, and heat burns up my neck as I finally meet his eyes.
“Okay,” he says slowly, and the button pops open beneath his fingers. “Then what did you mean?”
“You said you don’t, uh-” I wet my lips, trying to get the question out while Theo’s gaze drops straight to my mouth. “Take?”
He exhales through his nose and pulls down his zipper, and despite myself, my eyes follow the movement. By the time I manage to look away, his jeans are already sliding down his legs.
“I don’t,” Theo says, stepping out of them.
There’s no hesitation in the answer, but he won’t look at me when he says it, and that’s all I can focus on. I need to see his face. Need to know whether the words match whatever is happening behind them.
“Okay?”
I grab the bottom of my shirt and pull it over my head, throwing it towards the laundry basket, and Theo’s eyes finally come back to me. They trail lower over my chest before his nostrils flare and he forces them back to my face.
“Then why?”
His shoulders tense. “Why what, Connor?”
The irritation in his voice catches against my own, already stretched thin from trying to get a straight answer out of him.
My hands go to my jeans. “Why did you let me fuck you?” I tear the button open, holding his gaze now. “Why did you get on your knees for me? Just-” I shove the denim down my hips. “I don’t fucking know, Theo. Take your pick.”
Theo swallows, throat moving beneath my stare before his expression closes off and he turns away.
“Fuck.” He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Drop it.”
“No,” I say.
Theo goes still with his back to me, but I move closer anyway.
“I don’t know how.”
I hate how that sounds. Hate that I’ve just handed him something I can’t take back, but I’ve spent the entire drive trying to shove this somewhere it won’t bother me, and I’m still fucking here, needing to know why it was me.
Why he let me.
My fingers find the back of his arm and trail slowly over warm skin. Theo turns rigid beneath them, but when my hand slows, I still can’t make myself take it away.
“You’re supposed to be straight,” he grits out.
Theo turns to face me, and I’m ready to give him the obvious fucking answer.
I am.
Except it never makes it out.
Not with him standing half naked in front of me and my gaze already caught on his mouth, lingering on the swollen curve of his bottom lip before slipping lower over his chest and stomach. Theo watches me stare, then drops his own eyes between us to the erection pressing against my boxers.
So much for the obvious answer.
“Fuck,” Theo groans.
The sound goes straight through me, my hands closing around his waist and pulling him flush against me. Theo comes easily, forehead dropping to mine as his eyes close, all that tension in him giving beneath my hands.
“You’re supposed to be straight,” he says again.
“You’re supposed to be straight,” he says again, except this time there’s no anger to hide behind. His eyes stay closed, forehead pressed to mine
“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” I confess, my fingers twitching around his waist.
Theo’s breath catches against my mouth, and mine follows when his lips part this close to mine. He tips forward until they almost brush.
I kiss him.
Theo sighs my name into the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine, and my grip tightens as that same awful familiarity hits me again.
I know this now.
The shape of his mouth. The way he leans into me when I hold his waist. The sound he makes when I pull him closer.
Fuck.
I know how to kiss Theo.
I just don’t know what the hell that makes me.
And with his mouth still moving against mine, I can’t make myself care enough to stop.