Chapter 16
Lola
The kiss is rough and deep and much more confident than his previous kisses. I liked his kisses before, but this is next level. He’s aggressive in a way that has my belly swooping like it’s in the front row on a roller coaster.
When we break apart, I realize I’m still holding the Tupperware the pie was in. I drop it in the bag he brought, and Theo starts shoving everything else in there, too. It takes five minutes, but then we’re out the door, and he’s holding my hand, pulling me toward his apartment.
When we get there, he drops the bag at the door and presses me into the wall beside it, his body covering me.
A quick, sobering thought pokes itself into my brain—this isn’t supposed to feel this good.
And I don’t mean physically, I mean emotionally.
He’s not supposed to satisfy me both ways.
That’s not how this no-strings thing is supposed to work.
His knee ruts between my legs, and I rub myself on it shamelessly as he tugs my jacket off my arms. Theo’s mouth moves to my neck, and my skin tingles and my heart flutters because he is as good at neck kisses as he is at everything else.
I move my hand down, over his chest because his jacket is open, and across his abs to the fly of his pants.
I quickly pop the button and slide the fly down.
Theo’s breath hitches, and he nips my earlobe.
I whisper hoarsely, “I want you to fuck my mouth.”
He inhales sharply, and the heat coursing through me ratchets up to inferno levels as I palm his hard cock and he pushes into my hand.
I slip down the wall, and he leans his hands on the wall, watching me with hooded eyes.
I drag his boxer briefs and pants down at the same time.
His cock is hard and ready for me, and I wrap a hand around his shaft as I suck his head into my mouth.
Theo whispers a series of words in French.
Fucking French. Like my panties aren’t wet enough.
I have no idea what he’s saying, and I don’t care.
It makes me move faster as I slide him in farther, swirling my tongue.
He drops one hand from the wall and tangles it in my hair.
He doesn’t try to direct me, he just holds on and lets me set the pace and depth.
What he doesn’t know is that every groan and pant and French word is what has me going faster and deeper.
It’s also making my clit throb and my whole body ache.
So when his head hits the wall, and he lets go of my hair and uses both hands to haul me up to my feet, I let him.
“I need your pussy now,” he growls and aggressively kicks off his shoes, pants, and underwear. He storms to his bedroom area as I stay by the door and peel out of everything below the waist.
He stalks back to me. The light from the range hood over the stove is the only light on, so he’s all shadows as I watch him carefully slide a condom over his cock and then pull his shirt over his head.
Completely, gloriously naked, he comes back to me.
And I wish for a second he would just stand there and let me absorb the work of art that is his body.
He’s got abs on top of abs, and his skin is pristine, not a tattoo or a blemish…
except for the scars on his arms. His muscles by his hips form the deepest, sexiest V I have ever seen in person.
I want to trace it with my tongue. But I don’t have nearly enough time to take it all in because suddenly Theo has me up against the wall, off my feet, held in place by the pressure of his naked body against mine.
“Legs.” It’s a one-word, grunted command, but I don’t need more. He cups my ass so I can lift my legs and wrap them around his waist. “Shirt.”
He starts pulling my shirt, and I help him get it over my head, dropping it to the floor.
His head dips, and he sucks on the sensitive skin above my collarbone.
I can feel his length against my center, and I want so badly to drop down on him, take him, but I’m pinned into submission by his rock of a body and the wall. “Fuck me. Please. Now.”
“Impatient,” Theo chastises, and I kiss his ear, my tongue tracing his earlobe.
“I’m helping you out. Sober sex practice, remember?”
“Fuck off. Tell me you want it,” he says and reaches down to position himself right where I need him to be. His head pushes into me, but quickly disappears. I groan in frustration. “Say it, Summer.”
Oh fucking hell, why does it make me more turned on that he’s using my pseudonym?
We stare at each other, foreheads almost touching, and I want to fight him on this, because I’m stubborn to a fault.
But I also really want to come, so I give in and whisper, “I want you to fuck me so hard I feel you for days after I come around that perfect cock of yours.”
His mouth drops for a second before he smiles. And then he pushes inside of me in one solid press of his hips. My head thumps the wall behind me, and I sigh in relief as my eyes close, and he starts to fuck me exactly how I asked.
“Good boy,” I moan, and he moves even faster.
It doesn’t take long before we’re both teetering on the edge. Theo suddenly moves us off the wall while still inside me and walks me over to the kitchen. He drops my ass onto the end of the countertop and starts to move inside me again, slower. “Look at us.”
I glance down to watch him slide in and out of me, and a shiver rattles my spine. His thumb moves between us, slipping through the wetness we’ve created and over my clit, and that shiver turns hot. I break, my orgasm racing through me as I tip my head back and moan. “Oh fuck. Yeah…”
He slams into me harder, faster, and then groans my name as he comes too.
A couple minutes later, he kisses my shoulder and wraps his strong arms around my back. “Hold on.”
I wrap my arms and legs around him, and he carries me to his bed, slipping out of me as he lays me on the rumpled sheets and kisses my forehead.
“I’m going to take care of this.” He points to the condom covering him and then goes to the bathroom.
I look around and see an old Vegas Vipers long-sleeved T-shirt on top of some sweats at the foot of his bed, so I grab it and throw it on before slipping under the duvet.
When he comes back, I’m snuggled in, and he smiles at me. “You look good in my bed.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I ignore it.
“You look good out of your bed.” He glances at his naked body, muscles still jacked from the sexual exertion, cock softening but still impressive. “I noticed you don’t have any tattoos.”
“Neither do you,” he notes as he climbs into bed beside me.
“I’m scared of needles. What’s your excuse?”
He rolls onto his side, facing me, and reaches out to pull me closer. I ignore the fact that this isn’t standard post-hook-up protocol. I should be getting dressed and leaving. Maybe high-fiving him on the way out? We’re really not doing this right.
Theo kisses my bare shoulder gently. “Isn’t it weird to be scared of needles but work in a medical type of field?”
“I don’t have to administer drugs or injections or anything,” I say and bite back the urge to tell him I’m thinking of changing careers. It’s not something a hook-up needs to know. “So why don’t you have tattoos?”
“I haven’t figured out what I want permanently marked on my skin.
I do think about the irony that I would rather do stupid shit, like climb a roof tanked, then say fuck it and get a tattoo,” he says as he studies my face, gaze darting from my mouth to my nose to my eyes.
“My mom doesn’t have any. My dad has one massive one on his side that means so many things.
Like it embodies his entire life because he’s added to it as he’s gotten older. ”
“What is it?” Tattoos and their meanings have always fascinated me as an artist. Well, a hobby artist.
“A Fleur de Lis because he’s from Quebec originally, but inside the outline, there are guys playing that are supposed to be him and the Garrison brothers, my uncles. And then in the bottom is a rose, because my mom’s name is Rose. He added my initials and my sister’s after we were born.”
“I’d love to see it one day.”
His eyes widen, and he looks almost insulted. “It’s on his torso, and you are so not seeing my dad half naked.”
I smile. “I’ll be sure to visit Grady, Landon, and Randie this summer in Silver Bay and invite your whole family for a lakeside picnic. I’m sure I can get him to swim so I can sneak a peek at the tattoo.”
“No.”
I laugh because it’s ridiculous that he’s jealous at all, let alone over me looking at his dad’s tattoo. “You and your dad are very similar in features and body type, so it’ll just be like looking at you… only hotter because of the sexy tat.”
“Lola Summer Casco, are you trying to make me fuck you again? So soon?” He growls and moves so he’s half on top of me. I can feel him getting hard. “Because I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to stop calling my freaking dad sexy.”
“I mean no, but if you feel you need to prove something...” He growls again, nipping my neck, and I squirm. “Okay, fine. It’s not your dad. It’s tattoos. I like them.”
“I’ll probably get one or two eventually. I mean, now my body is a little… banged up anyway,” he says softly, almost like he’s thinking out loud.
I turn my head and find his scars, one on his arm and one on the opposing shoulder that runs from his collarbone to his armpit. They’re both big and scary-looking. “You could get something on top of the scars. I’ve heard people do that.”
He shakes his head. “No. I need the reminder. Need to see the consequences of my actions.” His voice is low, serious, and a little sad.
I lift my hand and trace the one on his arm. “Do you remember it?”
“The accident? Nope. I don’t remember anything about that night.
Not the game we played, not the party with the guys on the strip, not winning three grand, which I apparently did on slots at the Mirage.
” Theo’s eyes move down, off of mine, like he’s ashamed, and I get it.
I used to think he deserved to feel like shit, but now I’m not so sure.
“I definitely don’t remember the Instagram video. But my lack of memory isn’t an excuse.”
“No, it’s not, but—”
“No buts.” Theo’s voice is hard, scolding, but I know it’s directed inward. “I watch that fucking thing every week so I don’t forget what drinking did to me. What I let it do.”
I cup his face and wait until he finally brings his eyes to mine. “Theo, that’s not healthy. At some point in your steps program, aren’t you supposed to forgive yourself?”
My thumb runs over his cheekbone and back again. He blinks and rolls away from me so he’s on his back staring up at the ceiling. “One day. For now, I need the reminders. It keeps me… motivated.”
I don’t say anything because my heart tells me that watching a drunken video of himself outing his cousin before he falls off a roof isn’t the type of motivation he needs.
But how do I tell him that? And is it my place as his…
bed buddy? Nope. Not even a little bit. “Did you get a chance to chat with my dad today? About your game?”
He almost smiles. “Yeah. A little. Thanks for suggesting it. He had really good insight.”
“Of course he did. He loves talking hockey.” A thought occurs to me, and I get a little nervous. “Did you tell him we’ve been hanging out?”
“No. I wasn’t sure what to say if your name came up, so I didn’t bring it up.” His brown eyes dance with humor. “Oh, how do I know your only daughter, Lola? Well, she lets my sober dick experiment with sober sex.”
A giggle bursts out of me, and I cover my face with my hands. “Yeah, do not say that, or anything similar, unless you want more trauma.”
He laughs too. “So about tonight. Do you really think Pete was staring at you through the windows?”
“I don’t know,” I say, my light mood evaporating. “It felt ominous, and I mean… he’s done it before—just shown up at my work. I just… I can’t exactly go to the police with a hunch.”
“And they haven’t gotten back to you about the car thing?” I shake my head, and Theo frowns, turning to me with serious brown eyes that make me feel weird, like I’ve done something wrong. I don’t know why.
“No. And I don’t want to hound them.”
His face twists like I just said something unrealistic. “I’ll hound them. Tomorrow. I’ll call. And I’m going to mention the thing tonight.”
“Please don’t,” I beg and reach for his hand. “I have zero proof it’s him, and nothing happened. I’m fine.”
He frowns. I don’t know how to explain to him what it’s like being a woman.
Why we can’t just accuse people of things without undeniable proof.
Why we’re constantly second-guessed and why being emotional about something as scary as being stalked means we’re the problem.
I sit up and pull back the covers. “I should go.”
“Why?” he asks, and I can hear the confusion in his voice.
“Because I mean, this is… I don’t need to spend the night. We did what we wanted.” I smile and turn to face him. “Solid nine out of ten, buddy!”
I lift my hand, palm out for a high-five.
Yeah. I do that. He looks at me like I’m insane for a long second, and then he lifts his hand, but instead of high-fiving me, Theo grabs my wrist and pulls me down on top of him.
He wraps one hand around my back and uses the other to brush my hair out of my eyes.
“Nine? Well, now you have to stay. I do my best work in the morning, so stay and let me hit that ten out of ten.”
Before I can argue, he kisses me. It’s so confident, dominating, and toe-curling that I forget why this is a bad idea. “Fine.”
I say it dramatically, like I’m being inconvenienced, and roll off of him and flop onto my back. He snickers as his hand slides up my thigh. My blood ignites, and my brain melts, and his lips find mine.