Theo - Sixteen
Her lips parted, tongue sliding against mine, and I lost myself in the feel of her, the taste of her, the sound of her whimpering softly into my mouth like she couldn’t help it.
It was that sound — that sound — that nearly undid me.
My fingers slid down to the curve of her neck, tracing over the frantic flutter of her pulse. I kissed her jaw, her cheek, just beneath her ear.
“Your heartbeat’s going wild,” I murmured, lips brushing her skin.
“What, and yours is calm?” she whispered.
“Hasn’t been calm since I met you, Celia Hart.”
I kissed her again, and this time she melted into me with a whimper so soft, so needy , I lost the last of my self-control.
I bent, caught her behind the knees, and lifted her into my arms in one breathless movement.
Her dress rode up her thighs as she wrapped her legs around my waist, her head falling back with a laugh that turned into a sigh when I buried my mouth in the warm skin of her neck.
She tasted like sunshine and salt and heat, and when I found that spot — the one that made her gasp and arch against me — I let myself stay there just long enough to hear it again.
I carried her to the small sofa, heart pounding, her hands tangled in my hair. I sat down, her thighs straddling mine, her hips pressing into me, right there , separated by barely a scrap of fabric.
And Christ, I was hard. Painfully hard.
I couldn’t even tell if she was grinding on purpose or if we were both just too far gone, lost in the ache. I gripped her through the dress — the swell of her arse in one hand, her breast in the other, the weight of her driving me mad.
“Is this okay?” I asked, my voice wrecked and hoarse.
She nodded, hair wild where I’d dragged my fingers through it, her lips kiss-swollen, her cheeks flushed. “Of course,” she said. “It’s more than okay.”
We kissed again. Deeper. Dirtier. She rocked against me and my head fell back against the sofa with a groan.
I had wanted this with her for so long and it was better than any fantasy I had conjured up.
I could feel everything; the weight of her in my hand, the slight scratching of her fingernails at the back of my neck, the ungodly heat from between her thighs.
She rocked against me again and I didn’t know if I hated the fabric between us or was entirely grateful for it.
“I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” I breathed, dragging my mouth from hers, “and eighteen-year-old me — hell, twenty-five-year-old me — is going to hate me for it…”
She froze slightly, brows knitting.
“…But I don’t want to rush this. Not here. Not like this.”
Her face shifted — not hurt, exactly, but exposed. Raw. She started to move back, hands lifting slightly as if she needed to shield herself again.
“Celia—no. Please.” I caught her wrist gently, drawing her close again. I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, kissed her forehead, slow and soft and sure. “Don’t pull away.”
I brushed my lips over hers again. “I want to learn all the sounds you make. All the faces. I want to feel your body tremble under my hands, but not here. Not with your best friend and my brother and my niece just down the hall.”
She gave a small smile at that, her shoulders easing. “I understand,” she whispered, and then sighed. “But it doesn’t take away the fact that you’ve turned me on.”
“You’ve been turning me on for years,” I said, grinning.
“So what, this is tit for tat?” she smirked.
I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “No. There are no games here. Never with you.”
She paused, then glanced toward the bed, then back to me. “Can I stay for a bit?”
“Of course.”
She slid off my lap slowly, adjusting her dress and when she stood up, I caught a glimpse of black lace underneath. I groaned aloud without meaning to.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Want a hand with that?” she said, tilting her head toward the very obvious bulge in my trousers .
I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m trying really hard to be a gentleman right now.”
“Hard being the main word,” she teased, picking up the deck of cards from the table and tossing it at me with a grin.
“I know you said you don’t play games with me, but what about cards? I’m sure once you’ve lost a few times you’ll be much more relaxed,” she suggested and I couldn’t help myself from smiling back at her.
I watched as she settled into the corner of the sofa and I awkwardly adjusted myself while she dealt the cards out. I couldn’t believe how gorgeous she was and I felt like the luckiest man on Earth to have here, next to me with freshly kissed lips, that tasted like pure ecstasy.
LATER ON
Theo has cracked open a window and now the sleeping sounds from outside settled into the air around us acting as white noise.
Other than the gentle hum and the sound of the deck being shuffled, it was relatively quiet.
It sounded as if the only loud presence in the room was the beating of my heart that was drumming against my chest in a deep crescendo.
He sat at one end, legs spread comfortably, arm draped along the backrest. I was curled into the opposite corner, cross-legged, trying to play it cool even as my pulse still hadn’t calmed down from the kiss.
Theo flicked through the deck like a pro. “Alright. Two truths and a lie. Loser takes a dare. ”
It was the same game we used to play as late teens, something to pass the time and we had added so many rules and additions over the years, I don’t think it was even a game anymore.
We knew all the truths and lies about each other then, but now there had been half a decade between us, there were so many things we could talk about now.
I raised a brow. “We’re ten minutes past our first kiss and you’re already trying to trap me into humiliating myself?He grinned, eyes glinting. “Second kiss and I’m not trapping you. I’m just testing your instincts.”
My cheeks blushed at his correction. “Oh, great. A psychological experiment.”
“Exactly.”
I shook my head, smiling despite myself. “Fine. But I reserve the right to change the rules at any time if I start losing.”
Theo dealt three cards to himself, three to me, then leaned back, looking far too smug for someone who hadn’t even gone yet.
“I once accidentally sent a flirty text to my cousin,” I said. “I got locked inside a bakery overnight. And I’ve never seen Titanic .”
His brows lifted. “That last one has to be the lie. You are obsessed with any film with young Leonardo DiCaprio in. Do you remember when you made me watch Romeo and Juliet back-to-back for a whole month?”
“Hey, that is a classic movie and nobody can ever make you do anything,” I pointed out. “You were right, I have seen the film. ”
He gave me a look as if to say, well obviously. Perhaps I should have made the first one more challenging, I have underestimated that Theo might have forgotten things between us, but clearly, he remembered everything – including all the films he sat through with me.
“My turn.” He scratched his jaw, thinking. “I’ve broken my arm twice. I hate olives. And I’ve read Pride and Prejudice .”
I squinted at him. “You don’t hate olives. You literally ordered tapenade in the restaurant the other day.”
“Damn it.”
“Also, you’ve read Pride and Prejudice ?”
He gave a lazy shrug. “Sisters. Besides you used to mention it all the time,” he replied and then lifted his hand up and flexed it.
“Did you just Mr Darcy hand flex me?” I asked, my eyes narrowing in a mock gesture, despite the smile curving on my lips.
“And what if I did?”
I laughed. “You’re full of surprises.”
Round after round passed like that. The teasing, the dares — one of which led to me doing a terrible French accent for a full minute while Theo nearly cried laughing — the brush of his hand as we reached for the same card.
It was fun. Light. Easy. But under it all, I could feel it — that pull again.
The weight of the kiss still lingering between us like it hadn’t finished saying what it needed to.
I caught myself glancing at his mouth continuously.
God. I was so obvious. My skin was hot, my heart a mess, and my brain had turned to static. I shifted slightly, leaning just a bit closer without thinking like my body knew what I wanted before I did.
Theo’s eyes flicked to the movement. He had always been so hyper aware of me.
Shit. Abort. Retreat.
I quickly straightened again, blinking down at the cards as if they were the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen.
Too soon, I told myself. You’ve already kissed him once. You can’t just… go in for another like it’s nothing. That’s not you. You don’t even know what this is yet.
But I wanted to. God, I wanted to.
Theo’s fingers brushed mine again. A soft, deliberate touch.
“You’re flustered again,” he said, voice low, amused. “And yet you came in here so confident.”
I shot him a look, though the corner of my mouth tugged up despite me. “That was mostly adrenaline.”
He tilted his head, that slow smile forming again. “Right. Of course.”
Then he leaned in — not rushed, not asking — just closing the space between us, and pressed a kiss to my lips. Gentle. Like he knew I’d already talked myself out of it and was saving me the trouble.
I melted.
My fingers found the front of his T-shirt, resting there like it anchored me to the moment. We kissed again, and again, and then I was smiling too much and it turned clumsy and perfect.
“You’re smiling so much,” Theo murmured, barely pulling back, “it’s hard to kiss your teeth. ”
I laughed — an unfiltered, giddy sound that made my cheeks hurt. He laughed too, his forehead nudging mine, his hand warm where it rested lightly on my knee.
And just like that, I was sixteen again.
Not in that immature, clueless way — but in the heady, I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening way. Like the air was thinner when he looked at me like that. Like nothing had ever felt this exciting. Or this simple.
I kissed him once more, slower this time, lingering like I could stretch this moment out forever.
When we pulled apart, my chest was fluttering.
I’d never smiled this much while kissing someone.
I’d never had butterflies after the kiss.
I was a grown woman in my mid-twenties, and somehow Theo Finch had turned me into a blushing teenager. Again.
I exhaled slowly and tucked myself into the corner of the sofa again, this time with my legs pulled up, knees to my chest. I let my head fall lightly to the side, resting against the cushion. I didn’t mean to let my eyes close. Just… rest them. For a minute.
Theo didn’t say anything. I felt the weight of him still beside me, the warmth of his hand against my leg — just resting there. Steady. Present.
“You can stay,” he said softly, almost a whisper. “If you’re tired.”
“Mmm,” I murmured.
And I was. I hadn’t even realised how tired until I let myself stop. Until the buzz of nerves had turned into something quieter. Safer .
As sleep pulled at me, the last thing I felt was his fingers brushing a piece of hair from my cheek — a gentle, unspoken goodnight.