Thirty
Theo
I t’s after midnight. Christmas magic should’ve fizzled out by now.
Except when Isla reappears—still sporting my name front and center—the spell reignites.
If I had my way, she’d never take that damn shirt off.
She’d live in it. Sleep in it. Come in it.
Every fucking night.
But judging by her Olympic-worthy sprint to the bathroom, she’s still trapped in her own head. Which means I need to keep my mouth shut and my hands off.
“ Only thirty apps, Evie!” Graham bellows from the other side of the door. “Hardly counts as gluttony. The things were microscopic. A damn tease for the taste buds!”
Mom’ s response is muffled. Something about tasting and teasing that has them both cracking up.
No— giggling .
There’s a thump against the wall, followed by a hushed squeal.
I scrub a hand over my face.
Really ?!
Isla freezes, launching into full deer-in-the-headlights mode.
“They’re home!” she hisses. “What if they come in here?”
“Mom and I are a few years past the tucking-in phase,” I deadpan. “Plus, sounds like they’re too busy defiling our hallowed halls like a couple of horny teenagers.”
Her panic is adorable, and I waver between the urge to tease her and the need to soothe her.
The tremble in her chin convinces me to play nice.
“Don’t worry. They’re not coming this way. Graham is about to pass out from an hors d’oeuvres high and Mom will be ears-deep in her Merry Lane Murders audiobook in no time. Christmas and serial killers on the same cul-de-sac? Riveting stuff.”
“What about your horde of siblings? What if they—”
“Willow is back at her place,” I say. “She texted a cute shot of Jovie reading your book at bedtime. Felix and Rowan sleep through fire alarms, national disaster drills, and anything else that doesn’t directly involve their own asses.”
“And Asher?”
“You asking about the guy who held you hostage under fake mistletoe or the one planning to join his ex on her honeymoon?” I arch a brow. “Oh, right. Same idiot. He’s too busy fucking up his own life to worry about us…” Stepping closer, I drop my voice. “… fucking .”
What transpired between us was so much more than fucking , but I stop myself from elaborating. Any hint of more , and I wouldn’t put it past Isla to start cutting a hole in the floorboards cartoon-style.
“ Still …” She chews her lip, glancing toward the door. “I should get out of here before someone notices. I don’t want—”
I catch her chin between my fingers. “ Isla .”
She blinks up at me. “What?”
“My entire family loves you. Always have. Always will.”
Her lips part on a shaky inhale.
Maybe it’s my emphasis on entire , but her gaze starts swinging around the room like she’s casing escape routes in a heist.
When her eyes linger on the window, I tighten my hold, dragging her attention back to me.
“Don’t even think about it. We’re high enough for you to break your neck.”
“Then how do you usually sneak your girlfriends out of here?”
As soon as the question slips out, she staggers back. Jaw dropping, her hands twitch at her sides like she wants to snatch the sentence out of the air and cram it back down her throat.
I smirk. “Girlfriends?”
“ Your girlfriends. Your girlfriends . Your…girlfriends!” Each echo lands with a different distress-flavored emphasis. “Real girlfriends. Not—” She squints, clears her throat, and waves a hand over herself like a malfunctioning Price is Right model. “Not me. Obviously.”
Too deep in her spiral to notice, she doesn’t fight me when I hook one arm behind her knees, curl the other around her back, and scoop her up.
By the time she whisper-squeals a flustered objection, I’m lowering her onto the bed, sliding in beside her, and dragging the comforter over both our heads .
“ Shh ,” I murmur, swiping a few loose pieces of hair away from her face. “You’re safe, Sunshine.”
Adrenaline has sunk its claws into her with a vise-like grip. Nervous shivers rock her body, every muscle pulled so tight her usual softness is nowhere to be found.
She huffs little breaths against my bare chest. Even in the low light, with her face tucked tight to my heart, I don’t miss the flush blooming on her skin.
My only instinct is to touch her.
I keep it slow. Tender.
Chaste .
Fingers twining through her hair. Smooth caresses along her spine. A gentle skim over her hip. Palm pressed to her chest, where her heartbeat drums beneath my name.
My hand drifts to her jaw, tracing the corner of her mouth as her rattled breaths even out.
“That’s the first time I’ve had condoms in my nightstand,” I murmur, mapping the plush curve of her bottom lip. “No one has ever been in this bed but you.”
Her head jerks back a fraction. “What?”
I shrug one shoulder. “I moved out at eighteen. Before that, I was too jaded for high school hookups. A real broody bastard.”
“Broody bastards aren’t exactly repellents for teenage girls.” She shoots me a skeptical look. “Especially broody bastards with brains and biceps.”
I shake my head, grinning at her play on words.
“Yeah, but I wasn’t the stews-in-his-feelings-and-writes-sad-poetry kind of broken.
I was a selfish prick who torched bridges in the name of self-preservation.
An angry one, who mouthed off through therapy sessions to avoid hearing the truth.
Basically, I was an idiot who had no clue how to be worthy of others. ”
Or myself .
“For the first few years of my life, it was my mom and me against the world, enduring my father’s wrath.
When we finally got out, there was no freedom.
Just survival. Things changed once Graham came into the picture.
A year later, Asher arrived. Then—even more kids.
Suddenly, I was living in a place brimming with loud laughter and even louder affection.
A house that looked like a home. Smelled and sounded like one, too. But it never felt… mine .”
Even in the dimness, her eyes shimmer like pools of liquid gold. She watches me in silence, bearing the worst of me without blinking.
“You wouldn’t remember—our paths rarely crossed back then—but my teenage years weren’t a good time for me.
They were even worse for anyone around me.
” I clench my teeth. “I had no clue how to hold happiness without breaking it. It felt safer to sabotage the peace than believe I deserved it. Easier to cut love down before it had a chance to tear me apart.”
Shit . Things are getting away from me, veering down a dark path.
I hadn’t set out to bury Isla under the covers and bleed my past out on her.
Yet …
The words keep coming. Tumbling out with no end in sight.
“The night of my high school graduation, when Graham collapsed in the driveway…” On a hard swallow, I force back the acid climbing up my throat.
“I was being a dick. As usual. Snapping, deflecting. And still—” My voice cracks.
“He called out to me. Not Asher. Not Willow. Or the twins. He trusted me enough to bet his life on it. And what did I do?”
Wrenching my hand from her mouth, I ball it into a fist between us. “I failed him.” The truth tastes sour on my tongue. “ Just stood there and watched him suffer. A useless, frozen coward.”
Isla presses a soft kiss to my knuckles. “But you did save him. Graham always brags about it.”
“Eventually.” The memory flays me on its way out. “As he fought for his life, mine flashed before my eyes. And it was so…hollow. Meaningless. In that moment, I realized how far I was from the man I wanted to be.”
Shame rips through me, but I make myself meet her eyes.
I want her to see it. All of it.
“So yeah, I acted. Not fast enough, though. For every heartbeat I wasted…” I drag in a breath that snags in my chest. “He’ll have to take a pill for the rest of his life.”
Five seconds. Five pills a day.
Regret that will follow me to the grave.
“It took years to break out of the darkness. Years to burn the poison out of my blood. Years to peel off the armor I’d welded to my skin. Years of failing before I finally tore enough rot from inside myself to earn the Thorne name.”
Her fingers slip into my hair. She combs through it slowly, repeating the motion until it dawns on me that the tables have turned and she’s the one petting me now.
Somehow, I don’t feel ashamed of needing it.
I feel… worthy .
“That’s why I didn’t hesitate when Asher asked me to help his best friend,” I say, closing my eyes.
“He needed me. I wanted to be there. Be more. And eventually…” My forehead tips to Isla’s, and I draw a deep inhale of her scent, lodging her calming sweetness into my lungs. “I wanted to be more for you, too.”
“You were,” Isla whispers. “You are .”
Her lips brush mine in a featherlight kiss, then drift to the space between my brows.
She lingers as if trying to ease the tension carved into the muscle before pressing her mouth to the pulse at my temple.
The curve where my nose meets my cheekbone follows, and the gentleness of the touch makes my lungs malfunction.
At the edge of my jaw, she drags her tongue over the rough scrape of day-old stubble.
A soundless groan vibrates in my chest when she finds the hollow of my throat, tracing the frantic beat there with slow, unhurried licks.
Sharp, raw want spirals through me as she trails lower, her teeth scraping over each nipple.
She settles at the center of my chest, matching the rhythm of my heart kiss for kiss.
Despite the fire burning in my blood and the heat pouring over my skin, I stay still, letting her map me with her mouth for as long as she wants.
When she finally comes up for air, she frames my face with both hands. Our eyes meet in a gravitational void.
Part fall, part flight.
All surrender.
Isla’s arms hook around my neck, tugging me in and over until I’m directly above her, caged by the tight press of her thighs.
It’s easy now. Familiar.
My body already knows the way back to hers.
Together, we shove my sweatpants down just far enough for her to slide her hand between us and find me ready. She wraps her fingers around me, guiding me into her with a sure, steady grip. An electric thrill cuts through me at the sheer possessiveness of the move.
Holding her hips, I drive in, claiming every inch. Hot and wet and so fucking perfect, sinking inside her feels like coming home .
Once I can’t go any deeper, I pause, indulging in the strangle of silk and heat.
Nerves sparking, muscles straining, vision blanching—sanity be damned.
I lace our fingers together, pinning her hands to the mattress. Bracing above her, I grind into her in a molten, liquid rhythm. She responds with matching intensity, her whole body clinging to me, as if begging me to stay rooted inside her as long as possible.
This time around is slower. Softer. Quiet—save for some panted breaths and rasped groans. The exact opposite of the frenzied madness of our first time—yet just as satisfying.
A mind-melting kind of pleasure.
Every thrust winds me tighter, my muscles fighting against the pull of release.
Isla’s gaze flicks over to my braced left arm, snagging on the ink stretched tight across my bicep. When she notices a specific detail in the tattoo, wide-eyed shock flashes across her face.
A tiny piece of her, carved into my cells.
“Theo!”
For some reason, that tips her over the edge.
She squeezes my hands, nails biting into my knuckles as she breaks apart around me. Her head lifts, teeth catching my bottom lip and tugging to drag me down to her. The kiss is rough, her tongue pushing beyond my defenses, erasing every coherent thought until all that’s left is a primitive chant.
Isla. Isla. Isla.
A few more strokes and I’m gone. I come hard, spilling inside her, flooding her with everything I’ve got. Everything I fucking am .
She takes it all, greedily clenching around me while licking her name from my lips .
Isla. Sunshine. Mine.
It’s not just my body she owns.
Both my heart and mind have long since surrendered.
Even the broken pieces of my soul worship her.