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He laughs. It’s a soft sound, less stressed than before. “This isn’t an episode of Scooby-Doo, Shepard. You were never my nemesis. You were my . . .” I hate how I hold my breath. “My motivation.”
“I wouldn’t stop you if you kissed me right now.” I say it quietly in case he changes his mind, but his eyes darken, pupils dilating. He doesn’t move, though his mouth parts like he can already taste it. “Now you.” His breath dances over my lips. “If I kissed you right now, I wouldn’t stop.”
He looks wolfish, and suddenly I’m playing the part of Little Red Riding Hood. Only difference is, I’d love to get eaten up.
He goes still before pressing a soft kiss to his spot. No one will ever be able to touch me there again.
“You never answered my question earlier, by the way.” I pause halfway into my room. “What question?” “Whether two fingers would be enough to satisfy you tonight.”
And anyway, I’m ready to move on. Our conversation falls away, the mood shifting from barbed teasing into something warm I sink into. Theo’s body was made for mine like this; our rhythm is the same, everything lining up in a way that feels like comfort as much as it does lust.
“Fuck me,” Theo wheezes. I look over my shoulder at him as a drop of sweat trickles down his nose. I’d love to.
“That sounds fine, sweetheart, don’t rush,” Paul says. “You’re gonna get it later,” Theo whispers against my ear. “Oh,” Paul continues, the smile clear in his voice, “and don’t worry, Teddy. I’ll make your eggs over easy the way you like them.”
IM DEAD
He presses a kiss to my forehead, murmuring, “None of my touching has ever been accidental.”
Sometimes hope hurts when it grows too quickly.
