“I hate that you felt like you had to lie to me,” he murmurs. “But just so we’re clear, I want you, Noelle. Don’t think that there are conditions to the way I feel about you.”
I pull back, as breathless as if he’d been kissing me for minutes or hours, instead of just teasing me with his mouth. “I feel the same way.”
His gaze turns intent. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He sighs, dragging his mouth along my cheek, until it gets to my ear. “Tell me a secret.”
“I don’t want to be done with this in two days.” As soon as that last confession is out, the relief pours through me like adrenaline. “Tell me yours.”
He pulls back. “I don’t want to be done with this at all.”
Firecrackers in my blood. It’s the only way to describe the feeling, and I suddenly have to be closer to him, so I crawl into his lap. I cradle his face and bring him to me, laughing against his surprised inhale, then licking up his groan. He adjusts to the change in mood flawlessly, cupping my ass to pull me closer.
Theo’s kiss turns intense immediately, and I take it, because I can. Because we battle, but at the end of the day we’re doing it side by side.
“I need you,” he says against my mouth.
“Can we go—”
He has me in his arms, striding toward the door, before I can say inside. He closes and locks the patio door behind us, then carries me to his room, tossing me onto the bed.
“I knew you wanted to throw me around,” I say as he crawls over me, biting softly at my neck, sucking at my skin. He moves up to my jaw, the corner of my mouth, before nipping at my bottom lip.
He props himself up on one elbow, tangling his free hand into my hair. For a moment, he just looks down at me. I wish I had my camera so I could capture this moment, even though I know I’ll never forget—it’s the beginning of something I don’t see the end of.
“I meant all of that,” he says. “I want to keep seeing you when we get home.”
I run my fingers through his hair, melting when his eyes fall closed, his mouth pulling up. “I do, too. And I’m sorry I lied.”
“I understand,” he says hoarsely, then kisses me so deeply, with an urgency I’m not sure I understand, though my body runs wild with it.
Our clothes are gone in minutes, and I grip his hair while he settles between my legs, licking at me until I’m begging for him to make me come. He pushes me over the edge with brutal care, so hard I have to muffle my sounds with the back of my wrist. And when he crawls back over me, panting from all his tireless work, I take the condom he pulled from the pocket of his jeans and put it on him, watch as he leans back and takes himself in hand, stroking up and down through the wetness he created.
“Fuck,” he whispers, mesmerized.
“Really wish you would.” I push my hips up, trying to pull him into the clasp of my body. The need I have is so big it aches. I want it to hurt when he fills me.
He grins and I reach up, pressing my thumb into the crevice of his dimple. He curves over me, still pressing right where I need him, but not sliding in. His tongue slips past my lips, tangling with mine as he rocks his hips. I cup my hands around them to feel the way his body works, muscles playing under hot skin. Then I dig my nails in, smiling in triumph when he groans against my mouth.
“You can take me, can’t you,” he pants out, and it’s not a question. He just wants to hear me say it.
“Yes,” I whisper.
The give-and-take we have is so good. He knows I can handle what he gives me and throw it right back, and it stokes my craving, that he wants all of me, even the parts that are still broken or healing.
A hungry look curls into his expression as he lines himself up, his chest rumbling out an mmm. He doesn’t see the relief on his face when he sinks all the way inside me, but I do. It’s a secret he doesn’t even know he’s told me.
But I know, as he curls his hands around my shoulders and fucks me until I’m crying out quietly against his skin, it’s also the truth, simply set free.
Twenty-Seven
Jeez, Shepard, I thought you were going to pull out a shiv and stab me in the heart as your grand finale.”
I laugh, winding my arm through Theo’s as we leave the hotel’s on-site tennis court, where we just played three sets. “Would’ve been unnecessary bloodshed. I proved my point when I wiped the court with you.”
He looks over his shoulder to make sure no one’s around, then gives my ass a punishing squeeze. “You barely beat me in the last two sets, and I kicked your ass in the first.”
“Still beat you,” I gloat.
“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?” he groans, squinting against the early-morning sun.
“Unlikely. But you can challenge me to a rematch when we get home.” My heart beats hard, and not just from my victory; it’s the first time either of us have talked about specific post-vacation plans.
It’s time to start making them, though. After spending the night in Palm Springs, we’re driving home in just a couple hours, though I’m trying not to think about it. I won’t be wrapping myself around Theo tonight, listening to his heartbeat as I fall asleep, or waking up to him tomorrow morning, getting the sleepy, vulnerable version of him.
“You were on your phone early this morning. Everything good?” he asks as we approach the elevator.
I shake my melancholy thoughts away. “Oh yeah, I got a reply back from The Peaks Resort. They want me in Tahoe as soon as possible, and I said I could come up anytime next week. They confirmed Thursday was perfect.”
Theo’s eyes widen. “Really? That’s quick.”
“I have absolutely nothing else going on, and I get to stay there for free for a night—or two, if I wanted.”
We step into the elevator, and he backs me into the wall, gripping the handrail on either side of my hips. His neck is damp with sweat, cheeks flushed, eyes bright as they move over my face.
“Want to come with me?” I tease.
Storm clouds enter his eyes, chasing away the light. “Uh, I don’t think that’s possible. I’ll be deep in shit next week.”
I tug on the hem of his T-shirt. “No kidding. I’m just daydreaming. I know I can’t ask you to escape real life so soon after getting back to it. They’re probably going to superglue you to your desk.”
“I—” A muscle tics in his jaw as the elevator dings; we’ve arrived at our floor. He looks over his shoulder, and says, faintly, “Yeah.”
The change in his mood is so abrupt that I grab his wrist as we exit the elevator. “Hey, wait.”
“I’m good,” he says, anticipating my next question. “I just . . .” He runs an agitated hand through his hair, looking at me. “I guess I’m not quite ready to think about being done here.”
My chest goes tight. “I’m feeling it, too.”
“We’ve got close to an eight-hour drive, though, and I don’t want you getting home too late. Let’s get packed up and go.”
“Okay,” I say, but he’s already walking away.
* * *
Paul gives us a letter as we settle into the van.