Chapter 15 Cora #3
“Just uh … waiting for some clothes over here,” I joke.
This seems to pull Theo from his thoughts, as he coughs, glancing away. “Yeah, yeah.” He moves to the counter where he grabs a bundled-up shirt I’m only now noticing. “I only had the one extra change of clothes, so I figured we could split it,” he says with a smirk.
I force out a laugh. It is funny. But it’s also charged and uncomfortable. He crosses the room, holding out the shirt. I take it from him. It’s a button-up, large, long enough to definitely reach my mid-thighs.
Our fingers brush as he hands it over, and for a moment, he just does that thing again—the staring.
I chuckle. “Turn around,” I say.
Theo’s face reddens, and he clears his throat, instantly spinning around. “Yeah, sorry.”
I’m glad he’s not facing me any longer because my composure is slowly slipping.
I take a deep breath, letting the towel drop to the floor and then slip the shirt over my head.
My arms snake through the sleeves, the fabric pooling over my torso and thighs, and I move to pull my head through—only for something to snag on my hair, pulling painfully.
“Ow,” I mutter. I can’t see, but I hear Theo turning.
“What …?” he starts.
“My hair’s caught on one of the buttons,” I say, trying to free myself.
“Here.” Theo’s voice is calm and low and warm. And then I feel him steadying my shoulders, his fingers working through my hair. And then I’m free, the shirt sliding over my head.
He pushes the hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear, almost absentmindedly, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. And, for not the first time this week, we find ourselves inches apart, so, so close.
His hands are still on either side of my face, and his jaw is doing that thing again, clenching and unclenching, his blue eyes searching mine.
“What are you looking at?” I breathe, hoping to break the tension, but it only seems to add to it.
“You,” he says simply.
I force out a laugh. “There are better things to look at.”
He cocks his head like he disagrees. “Not for someone like me.”
Someone like him? What’s that supposed to mean? “Have you seen yourself?” I blurt out before thinking.
Surprise and then amusement skate across his features.
“I mean …” I stammer, my gaze flitting to his bare chest right in front of me, muscles taut and still a bit damp from the shower. Fuck, I want to touch them. I want to touch him. “Look at … you.” The last word is a whisper, and then my gaze is back on his.
Theo swallows, looks physically pained, and then it’s as if something inside of him snaps—and he kisses me.
This is not the kiss at the courthouse, short and sweet.
This is not the kiss at the bar, slow and languid.
No, this kiss is hard and hot and all-consuming.
His hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as his body presses against mine, walking us backward until my hips hit something—the countertop by the sink.
My hands travel over his abs, his chest, under his arms, and up his back. I want him closer, harder, faster. All of him all over me.
I want him, I want him, I want him.
One of his hands leaves my hair to slip under the hem of his shirt that I’m wearing, his palm dragging up my thigh, over my hip, to the dip of my waist, squeezing. He moves back down to the hem of my panties, right on my hip bone, taking a handful in his fist and simply holding it tight.
Suddenly, Theo pulls back with a ragged breath, resting his forehead against mine. My chest heaves, my mind delirious as I search his eyes. Eyes that are searching mine right back—filled with shock and need and hesitancy.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice rumbling through me. I can feel his fingers against the flesh of my hip, fisting my panties tighter, tight enough that it almost hurts.
“Don’t fucking stop,” I say, no—I beg.
Eyes still on mine, he relaxes his grip, swiping his fingers under the waistband of my underwear, dipping lower and lower, until his fingers slide across my slit.
My mouth parts, and then I gasp as he slides one finger inside of me.
Theo watches my face intently, as if it’s the most important thing he’s ever seen.
“What do you like?” he breathes. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.
Touch you, finger you, lick you. Fuck, I’ll get on my hands and knees and beg, Cora, if that’s what you want from me.
” His blue eyes are sharp, intense in a way I’ve never seen from him before.
A short cry of pleasure leaves my lips as he inserts a second finger, slowly curling it upward. Stars dance before my eyes, and I reach for him, my hands on his shoulders to steady myself. I slowly slide my hands down his chest, taking him in, meeting his gaze again. “I want you,” I say.
Something streaks across his face akin to physical pain, and for a moment, I’m worried I’ve misread everything, that somehow Theo doesn’t want this to be happening at all. But then he mutters, “I don’t have a condom with me.”
I’m shaking my head before he’s even finished his sentence. “I have an IUD, remember?” I say.
He bites his lip, hard—as if that’s the only thing keeping him from tearing into me right this second. “Are you sure? Because we don’t have—”
“Theo,” I practically wine, pulling him closer, my body overcome with the desperate urge to have him.
“I don’t just want you inside me, I want you to come in me,” I breathe.
It’s strange and insane, and oddly primal, but it’s true.
Something about my mind in this moment wants one and only one thing—and it’s that.
His mouth opens slowly, his pupils dilating as he stares down at me. I’d honestly laugh at him if I wasn’t so fucking turned on right now—if Theo didn’t look so goddamn hot in nothing but jeans on, his fingers inside my pussy.
“Come in me, Theo,” I repeat. “You are my husband.”
Suddenly, his fingers are gone, and then both his hands are on my waist, lifting me up so that I’m sitting on the counter.
He grabs the hem of my panties, pulling until I take over, scooting them down my legs and then tossing them aside.
I reach for his face, pulling him into a kiss while his hands work the button on his jeans.
He wrangles them far enough down to free his cock, and I reach for it, gently palming it between us.
He groans into my mouth, sending another fresh wave of arousal through me.
And I swear to God, if I don’t feel Theo inside of me in the next three seconds, I’m going to die.
He must feel the same way, because he yanks me forward on the counter, positions himself at my entrance, and then meets my gaze as he slowly thrusts into me.
We gasp in tandem, eyes glued to one another, chests flush. I wrap my legs around his waist as he fills me fully, the feel of him somehow everything yet not enough.
He rests his forehead against mine as he slowly thrusts, the rhythm deliciously gentle. Small cries escape my lips every time he fills me up. One of his hands presses against my lower back, steadying us, while the other moves up to gently cup my face, his thumb caressing my cheek.
“Cora,” he breathes against my lips. “Cora,” he says, like it’s a chant, a mantra, a prayer.
I whimper in response, my hips thrusting involuntarily, needing more. He gets the hint, pumping faster, harder. I gasp, but he captures it with his mouth, kissing me hard. His hand leaves my cheek to snake between us, finding my clit and rubbing soft circles.
I gasp against his lips again, partly from pleasure and partly from the shock of how quickly it’s building. “Theo, I’m—” I start.
He presses his lips against my ear, his breath warm. “Come for me,” he says, pleads, begs. “Fall apart for me, Cora, please. Let me see you fall apart.”
My head falls back, my eyes squeezed shut. “Theo,” I whine, the pleasure building and blinding. “God, don’t stop.”
His thrusts are relentless, hard yet gentle at the same time, his fingers on my clit, and then it hits me.
Warm and all-encompassing, like a wave dragging me under.
I cry out, my limbs shaking and my breath hitching.
Through the fog, I can tell that Theo has let go too—the way he holds me tighter against him, groaning quietly into the skin of my neck.
We cling to each other, panting, as the wave subsides. Theo leans far enough back to meet my eyes, but still close enough that we’re wrapped in each other’s arms, close enough that he’s still inside me. It should feel strange now, wrong, but I don’t want him to leave.
Shock and pleasure blur across his face, and I’m sure my expression mirrors his. “We just …” he starts, his voice hoarse.
“Consummated our marriage,” I finish for him.
He breathes out a laugh. “Yeah. We did.”