32. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CONNOR
The warmth of Theo's hand presses against my chest, and I push up onto my elbows to give him space, but there's a wrongness to the movement catches me. The way he presses a little harder when I don’t move fast enough, his eyes sliding away from mine instead of finding them.
My brows pull together.
“You okay?” I ask, softly, the words still rough around the edges, but Theo doesn’t answer me.
He pushes at my chest again, not shoving me away, but clearly wanting space, and the realisation sends an uncomfortable twist through my stomach.
I pull back fully, sitting up and letting him move.
Theo drags himself higher against the pillows until his back meets the headboard, his chest still heaving, skin flushed and damp, his hair a fucking mess from my hands.
Everything we just did is still written all over him.
The marks on his throat. His swollen lips. The come streaked across his stomach.
But the openness that was there seconds ago is gone.
I can almost see him pulling it back in, shutting something behind his eyes before I can get close enough to understand it, and unease knots low in my stomach.
“Theo?”
I’m more careful this time, watching his face like there’s something there I’m supposed to be able to read if I look hard enough.
“Fine,” he rasps.
He still won’t fucking look at me.
He’s not fine.
I shift forward again, moving between his legs. I expect him to close them or push me away this time, but he doesn’t. His thighs fall open around me without any resistance, letting me back into the space he’d just tried to make.
I settle onto my knees between them and reach for him, trailing my fingers along the sharp line of his jaw before catching beneath his chin and tipping his face towards mine.
“What’s going on?” I ask quietly.
Theo swallows, and I feel the movement beneath my fingers, the sudden tension in his jaw, and then his head turns away from me.
Out of my touch.
It's such a small movement that it shouldn’t feel like anything at all, but cold crawls up my spine at the loss of him.
“Talk to me,” I say, and I hear the slight shake in my own voice now. “Please.”
Theo lets out a breath that sounds like he’s trying to laugh, except there’s nothing even remotely amused about it, his eyes falling away again.
“Shouldn’t you be leaving?”
My stomach drops.
He moves like he’s going to get up,
“No.”
My hand shoots out and closes around his wrist before he can get anywhere.
“Stop.”
It comes out firmer than I mean it to, but the thought of him getting up and walking away from me like this makes nausea claw at the back of my throat.
Theo goes still, refusing to look at me and fingers tighten around his wrist.
“Look at me, Theo.”
Nothing.
Fuck.
“Please.”
His breath catches, and I see the hesitation move through him, the slight tension in his shoulders, like he’s fighting with himself over something I don’t understand. For a second I think he’s going to refuse anyway.
Then his head turns, slowly, his eyes lifting to mine. And fuck. The air leaves my lungs.
His eyes get me. Too bright. Too exposed. None of that usual cocky amusement he throws over everything, none of the smug confidence that’s been driving me insane since I met him.
Just something raw enough that I almost wish he’d looked away again before I saw it.
My grip loosens around his wrist, dread sinking heavy into my stomach.
“Did—”
My voice cracks.
I swallow and try again, my heart beating painfully against my ribs.
“Did I hurt you?”
It comes out quietly, because I don't know what I’ll do if he says yes.
Theo’s eyes snap fully to mine, widening, panic flashing across his face so quickly it catches me off guard.
“No. Not—” He breaks off, stumbling over himself in a way Theo never does. His gaze darts away again. “No.”
Relief should come, but it doesn't.
If anything, the knot in my stomach only grows, because that means this is something else. Something I can’t see, and Theo is sitting right in front of me doing everything he can to make sure I don’t.
“Then why won’t you let me touch you?”
I shift closer, already bracing myself for him to pull away again, but he doesn't. He doesn’t lean into me either though, and that feel feels worse.
Theo exhales, his shoulders sinking as he drops his gaze to his lap. His fingers twist together there, restless, picking at each other like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands when they aren’t touching me.
“I can’t—”
He stops, his face tightening, frustration flashing over it before both hands drag up over his face.
“Fuck.”
I catch his wrists before he can disappear behind them completely.
“Stop.”
I pull his hands away, holding them gently between us as I shift off the bed and drop down in front of him.
Theo looks at me then.
He doesn’t really have much choice with me kneeling between his legs, directly in his line of sight, but I’ll take it.
“Just tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”
My hand comes up automatically, brushing a piece of dark hair away from his eyes, my fingers lingering near his temple.
Theo blinks, confusion cutting through whatever was there before as he stares at me.
“Pretty?”
A breath escapes me, almost a laugh, though there’s too much sitting beneath my ribs for it to sound right.
“You really doubt that?”
Theo shrugs.
It’s supposed to look casual. I know that because everything with Theo is supposed to look casual.
Except his eyes slide away from mine again, and there’s colour creeping slowly up his throat, bleeding into his cheeks.
“Kinda hard not to.”
I stare at him, genuinely not understanding what he’s saying.
Theo fucking Knox doubts that he’s pretty?
I’ve spent weeks trying not to stare at him. Trying not to notice every thing about him. The green of his eyes when he’s amused. The way his lip ring catches the light. The stupid dark hair that’s always falling into his face.
And he thinks I don’t—
Fuck that.
I catch his chin before he can turn any further away, bringing his face back towards mine.
His eyes flick up, and I hold him there.
“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”
The words are out before I can get nervous about them, or decide they’re too much, and once I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop.
“Even before we started—”
I cut myself off, my throat closing around whatever I was about to call this, because I still don’t have a word for it.
But I don’t let go of him.
Can’t.
My thumb brushes along his jaw as I look at him, and the truth of it sits so plainly in front of me that I don’t understand how he can’t see it.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, it hurts, Theo Knox.”
His breath catches, and my chest swells at the sound.
Theo’s eyes flick between mine, searching my face so intently that I realise he’s looking for the joke.
Or the lie.
Something that tells him I don’t mean it.
“Fuck,” he rasps, his hands fisting in my shirt, yanking me forward so quickly I barely have time to catch myself before Theo’s mouth crashes into mine.
My breath punches out against his lips.
“Theo—”
He doesn’t give me a chance.
He pulls me with him as he falls backwards, and my balance goes completely, one hand shooting out beside his head to stop myself from crushing him while the other catches at his waist.
His mouth never leaves mine.
There’s nothing slow about this kiss.
Nothing teasing.
He’s kissing me like he needs something from me, mouth desperate against mine, his hands gripping my shirt so tightly I can feel the pull of the fabric across my back.
And I give in just as fast.
My hand slides around the back of his neck, holding him to me as I kiss him harder, because this I understand.
Theo.
His mouth.
His body beneath mine.
I understand this.
“Don’t—”
The word breaks apart against my lips.
I slow, but Theo doesn't.
His hands tighten against my chest, dragging me back every time I give him even an inch, and the desperation in it makes my stomach clench.
“Don’t what?” I breathe, but he kisses me again before I can get an answer.
“Don’t go."
Everything in me stops.
Theo’s lips press back to mine, softer now, but the desperation hasn’t gone anywhere.
“Don’t go,” he says again, rougher this time, like getting it out hurts him.
I pull back enough to see him, Theo refusing to meet my gaze.
And it's there again, that thing he keeps trying to hide from me, except I can see it now.
He isn’t asking me to fuck him again.
He isn’t fucking around or trying to get under my skin.
He’s asking me to stay.
I cup his jaw, my thumb brushing lightly beneath his eye until his gaze starts to lift back towards mine.
“Okay.”
The word comes out quietly, Theo stilling beneath me.
Anxiety curls beneath my ribs, creeping back in now that I’m not distracted by his mouth or his hands or the heat of him beneath me.
Stay.
Here.
With Theo.
And I don’t know what the that means, what any of it means really, but I know what his face looked like when I pulled away from him.
“Okay,” I say again, softer this time.
Maybe for him.
Maybe for me.
I lean down and kiss him slowly, letting my mouth linger against his before I force myself to say the only thing I can promise without lying to him.
“I’ll try.”
Theo’s eyes snap open, finding mine wide and searching, flicking between them like he’s waiting for the but.
A smile breaks out across his face, bright and so completely Theo that my heart jumps.
“Fuck.”
I grab him and drag him back into me before I can sit there staring at him like an idiot, my mouth finding his again, swallowing whatever sound he makes as Theo’s arms close around me.
And I let myself sink into it.
Because I’ll try is already sitting too heavily in my chest.
And if I stop kissing him now, I might have to think about exactly what I just promised.