Theo?
Over the next week I eat solid foods, keeping my meals nutrient dense but high in calories. I also do squats and pushups to nurture my neglected muscles.
We move everything from the bedrooms to the main level and garage. The garage is filled with tools and weights. Lots of weights. I now understand why Theo is solid as a bull.
Clearing the upstairs has forced all of my plants onto the main level. He seemed to tolerate them fine, until they all had to be shoved in the kitchen and lounge.
He grumbles as he makes room to set up his camp bed for the night.
I can hear him through the thin walls of the bathroom that we now share off the kitchen.
I’m up over half a stone but my reflection in the mirror still looks a little gaunt.
My hair has been au natural for a while, no more straightening, but Theo hasn’t said anything.
There’s no way he hasn’t noticed. I’m tempted to cut it off soon, like really short.
Maybe if I can gain another half a stone, I’ll do it.
“You can do this,” I whisper to myself as I open the door, wearing only a black bra and matching knickers.
Theo’s head is bowed, looking at the screen of his phone from the comfort of his camp bed in the kitchen, surrounded by plants. He’s in exercise shorts, no shirt, and his hair is down instead of tied back like it is when he works.
“Theo?”
“These fucking plants have to go.” He doesn’t look up.
I clear my throat. “Theo?”
“What?” He still doesn’t look up.
I maneuver my way through the jungle. He stills his hand, and I know he sees my bare feet and legs. Ever so slowly he allows his gaze to make its way up my body.
“I have an itch.”
His lips part as his heavy eyelids blink once, like he’s drunk on me. “Where?” It’s a deep, throaty whisper that sends chills along my skin.
Reaching down, I grab his warm, calloused hand and place it between my breasts. Touch. I close my eyes for a second. How can something so simple make me lightheaded and breathless? As I start to slide it under the edge of my bra, he curls his fingers and … scratches me.
“Better?”
I don’t know if I want to cry of embarrassment or laugh because somewhere along the way I lost my seduction mojo. Theo gives nothing away. He could have simply said no, but he didn’t … so there’s that. However, it does little for my bruised ego and my itch.
“Yes,” I say with a frog’s voice and a slow nod. “Thank you.”
My lips twist to the side. He remains stoic Theodore Reed. I turn and make two steps toward the living room, stopping when a hand slips down the back of my knickers, fisting them like I’m his property. My heart slams against my chest as I suck in a quick breath and my body goes up in flames.
Theo pulls on my knickers, making me retreat a step at a time. I’m glad my back is to him so he can’t see how scared and excited and turned on I am in this moment.
He releases my knickers and … oh dear god … he claws his hands down the back of my legs. His fingernails aren’t long but they bite into my skin just enough to awaken every cell in my body. When he reaches my ankles, he slides his hands around and scratches his way up the front of my legs.
Slow.
Controlled.
Dominating.
My muscles flex beneath his touch.
My lips part, releasing erratic, heavy breaths as he curls his fingers into my knickers and slides them down my legs.
I jump, a grin stretches across my lips as his beard tickles my backside.
He presses his mouth to my skin while his hands rake back up my legs, my stomach, my arms, my neck—scratching and touching me everywhere but my breasts and the pulsing center between my legs that’s heavy and in dire need of that proverbial scratch.
Every kiss along my backside becomes more intense.
Lips.
Tongue.
Teeth.
Theo’s fingers dig into my skin more and more.
There’s something uniquely erotic and equally torturous about him touching me everywhere but where I’m begging for it the most. He removes my bra and guides my arms above my head.
I fist my own hair to keep them from falling back to my sides.
He drags his nails slowly along my arms, down my torso to my abs, and up to my breasts where he finally touches them, squeezing so hard I nearly explode.
My breath seethes through my teeth. It feels like he poured gasoline over me. The second he touches my breasts it’s like striking the match.
Theo stands so fast I have to fight to keep my footing. I grab his hair to pull his mouth down to mine. He fists my hair to stop me—our lips almost touching. The space between us fills with hot, labored breaths.
“You gave me two stars.” His words come out as a growl.
Oh that …
I swallow hard. He’s angry. My rubbish assessment pissed him off. Do I want to have sex with angry Theodore Reed?
“That means I have eight more to give. Think you can steal them from me?”
Oh. Fucking. Hell. YES! I want to have sex with angry Theodore Reed.
He backs me into the worktop.
Crash!
He shoves one of my plants onto the floor.
Crash!
Another plant.
Crash!
My bare bum meets the cold worktop when he lifts me up. The breath in my lungs whooshes out as he slides down his shorts and briefs. Just the sight of his naked body is worth ten solid stars.
My hair feels like it’s being ripped from my head as he fists it, crashing our mouths together at the same time his cock completely fills me.
I want to scream, but his tongue consumes every part of my mouth.
He thrusts into me slow and hard. My fingers dig into the hard muscles of his arse, guiding—begging him to not stop.
The cupboard doors clank over and over, vibrating the dishes behind them like an earthquake. I’m so close, and I swear he knows it because he stills and wraps one hand around my waist while the other lifts me off the worktop.
Crash!
He shoves two plants off the kitchen island.
Crash! Crash! Crash!
There goes the rest of my plants. I want to protest, but he has me spread out on the island with his head between my legs, his hands pushing them open as wide as they will go.
His tongue makes a thorough introduction to my clit. Oh. My. God!
There it is. It’s … it’s … No!!!
He stops. I look down. He looks up and smirks.
“What are you—”
He flips me over with the ease of turning a page.
My cheek rests against the worktop. My hands grip the edge of it.
Theo lifts my hips, a knee on both sides of my legs, and drives into me again …
and again … and oh fucking hell … Stars.
It’s all I can see as I hold my breath, letting my body seize with an orgasm.
Our fingers intertwine on the edge of the worktop as he speeds up, drawing out every last possible sensation I can have, then he stills, buried completely. Warmth fills me. A guttural moan vibrates his chest that’s pressed to my back.
“Take the stars …” I pant. “Every. Single. One.”
*
What happened? Where am I? What time is it?
I lift my head from the pillow to assess my situation:
Sofa bed—sheets half-ripped off.
Naked Thor facedown on the floor with dirt and leaves stuck to his skin. Nice view.
Plants.
More dirt.
Broken porcelain.
I lift myself to sitting. Dirt trickles down my back, but most of it stays stuck to my skin. Well, shit! I’m naked too and covered in dirt.
The brain fog begins to lift. We had sex. I think lots of sex.
Sex on the worktop.
Sex on the camp bed. Oh, my aching back. That’s right. We broke the camp bed. That might account for why he’s on the floor.
The floor. We had sex on the floor too.
Good sex. Really good sex.
My ten-star wonder begins to move and grumble like a bear waking.
Theo pushes himself to his knees, tattooed back to me.
I can pretty much read his mind as he looks down at himself and around the room—because I had the same thoughts.
He glances over his shoulder at me, gaze trailing along my body while he scratches his beard-covered chin.
“Mornin’,” he says in a raspy voice.
“Morning.” I don’t know what else to say. Theo’s moods are something much more complex than simply unpredictable.
He continues to stroke his beard. “That was a military-grade cot.”
A smile grows across my face until I can’t hold back my laughter. “I think half of my plants need CPR.”
With a shrug, he lumbers to standing. “Toss them.”
I push to my feet, giving my best effort to not stare at his morning erection. “I’ll save them and when you finish the upstairs, I’m going to put all of them in your room.”
He stretches his arms above his head and yawns.
Good lord … that body.
“When I’m done with the upstairs, this place is going on the market.”
Is that his way of reminding me that this is nothing? I know this is nothing. I think I know it better than he does. “And you’ll go on tour.”
He regards me for a few seconds. I’m not sure if the sadness in his expression is my imagination or if he’s really letting his mask slip. “And you’ll go back to London to get married.”
If Theo thought that was anything but a lie, I think I’d crawl into a hole and die. I’m not a cheater. Right now, I’d give anything to erase that look from his face. I am not a cheater.
“Tell me another lie.” I need him to remember what we’ve shared is a lie.
Theo runs his hands through his hair, shaking out dirt as he chuckles. He looks at the floor. “Another lie, huh? Fine. I don’t want you to go back to London and marry some guy who will never be a ten.”
“Ha!” I shake my head and laugh as I tiptoe through the mess to reach the bathroom. “You’re cheeky, Theodore Reed.”
My name is Scarlet Stone and I like theatrical masks. My father gave me a real gold mask that he “borrowed” from a museum. He said I should wear it when I need to feel brave. I wear it a lot.
As soon as I’m behind the safety of the locked bathroom door, I fist my hands at my heart and slide down the smooth wood to the floor. The tears fall. “Oh god …” It’s incredibly difficult to let go of the physical world with our souls trapped in bodies that do nothing but feel everything.
Pleasure cannot exist without pain. My heart needs to stay out of this, and Theo needs to stop saying things that lead me to believe he’s letting his heart have a say in any of it.