I try to imagine how lonely that must be, to not have a reliable parent for comfort or support. It’s not something I’ve ever had to deal with, and it leaves me scrambling for a response.
But he’s clearly done with the subject. With a hard swallow, he pushes his glass away and runs a hand over his mouth, as if wiping away the words. “Anyway, that’s my secret for today. If we’re still playing the game.”
“Always.” Somehow, I don’t think we’d ever run out of things to confess. It scares me as much as it thrills me. We have ten days left; how much could we fit in if we really cracked ourselves open?
His gaze sharpens at the sadness in my voice. “Tell me one of yours.”
“I thought your life was perfect,” I admit. “You drove me batshit with your perfect grades and that nasty serve—” He laughs, his eyes crinkling. That amusement breaks a wave of relief over my heart. “The spread in Forbes.”
“You’ve got that page bookmarked, don’t you?” The cockiness is back in his voice, in the upward curve of his mouth. His lips are so perfectly shaped for kissing, biting, sucking on.
“You wish I did.”
Theo shakes his head, his smile quieting as the moment between us extends, then shifts. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the more perfect it looks on the outside, the messier that shit is on the inside.”
I let him see the understanding in my eyes, even if I can’t reveal my secret entirely. Then I lift my glass. “Cheers to that.”
* * *
I’m not buzzed, but by the time Theo closes our tab sometime after midnight, I’m soft around the edges. We moved on from the heavy stuff, pivoted back around to the tension that was brewing between us earlier.
Theo kept his hands to himself, but not his shoulder or thigh or knee, all of which pressed against me when he’d lean in to murmur some quip in my ear. When I swept my hair over my shoulder, his eyes zeroed in on that spot he claimed. I don’t know why I never noticed him looking before; it was so hungry I felt it in my stomach.
Now, as he leads me out to the lobby, his palm curves into the small of my back.
When we step into the elevator a minute later, he presses the button for my floor, but not his. I slide him a look.
“I’m going to walk you to your room, since you’re at the end of that long-ass hallway.” He wanders to the other side of the car, hands in his pockets. Earlier, when he helped me with my luggage, the walk to my door took decades. “I’d be annoyed if I had to go looking for you because you got stolen.”
Despite his innocuous words, my heart starts up at a furious pace. “How chivalrous of you.”
“Only the best of intentions.” His eyes glint underneath the lights. 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.
But I can’t. I pinch my thigh, turning back toward the doors so I won’t back Theo further into the wall he’s leaning against.
The ride up is too fast and excruciatingly slow. The hallway is lined with plush carpet that muffles our footsteps; it’s so silent that I hear Theo’s soft exhales beside me. They’re a little fast, and when I look over, his gaze moves up from somewhere south of my eyes.
The butterflies in my stomach migrate south expediently. “You’re not coming into my room.”
“I didn’t ask to,” he murmurs.
“Right. Because we agreed we weren’t going there.”
“Zero interest in that.” He grins at my disbelieving look, a mischievous one I haven’t seen in years. “I mean it. I wouldn’t want to do anything you weren’t enthusiastically into.”
“It’s not about enthusiasm.”
“Right. It’s about my granddad.”
“It’s about everything except my enthusiasm.”
I shouldn’t have said that out loud, though it’s not a secret anymore. He looks at me like it was, and my body heats in response.
We’re at my room now. I should shove my keycard into the slot, shut the door behind me, and double lock it. But I don’t. My self-control is crumbling, and it falls apart completely when I turn and find him too close, looking down at me with eyes on fire.
“My brother made a bet with his girlfriend. I mean, my best friend. She’s both things.” I’m babbling. “Whatever. My pride depends on not giving in to this.”
One of Theo’s eyebrows arches in amusement. “What were the terms of the bet?”
Oh god, what have I done? My brain is lust addled.
“If we hooked up on a certain day, one of them would win money. Thomas already lost.”
Theo moves in closer. His lashes lower with the meandering path of his gaze. The thick sweep of them over his skin looks almost sweet. I wonder what they’d feel like on my skin—on the back of my neck if he kissed me there.
“What was his bet?” he asks, his voice low.
“Three days. Sadie’s is ten.” I won’t tell him about the other bet. It’s not going to happen.
But this might: Theo’s mouth on me. I want it so badly I’m nearly panting. I grip the door handle just for something to hold on to.
“What do you mean when you say hook up?”
“Why are you asking so many questions on a throwaway bit of information?” I ask, irritated with his pressing and his closeness.
“It’s not throwaway and you know it. What does it mean?”
“Sex.” I say it like we’re in the middle of it.
His eyes darken. “So if we just . . .” He trails off, staring at my mouth.
“Kissed,” I manage.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Then it doesn’t count. For the bet.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“And we’re in Vegas, so what happens here—”
“Stays here.”
“Yeah,” he repeats, his voice going hoarse. Our gazes lock and he won’t ask or push, but if I want it, then—
I let out a breath. “Just once. It could be our secret.”
The silence stretches out unbearably.
When Theo’s hand slips across my collarbone, resting there, every part of me pulls tight. And when he pushes me back against the door with the slightest pressure, I stop breathing altogether.
His thumb grazes the base of my throat, right where my pulse is beating wildly. For him, and he knows it. Everything he’s doing is just a suggestion, the lightest touch, but he might as well be gripping me.
“Do it,” I whisper.
“You,” he demands, so I grab handfuls of his shirt and pull him tight against my body, lifting up to take his mouth.
He opens up for me immediately and at the first slide of our tongues, lets out the softest, most aching groan. His hand moves into my hair, the other cradling my cheek. And then he takes over, tilting my head exactly the way he wants it. Even though I started it, it’s Theo in charge now.
He kisses like some people fuck: slow, deep, and dirty, with bitten-off noises that broadcast his need. The damp slip of our mouths, the occasional click of our teeth, the way we’re tasting each other—all of it feels like we’re doing this with our clothes off. His body on mine against the door feels like his body in mine in the bed just beyond the wall.