Page 100 of Make Me Mean It

There’s no reason for me to still be holding him.

My hand is still firm around Theo’s hip, my face buried in the warm crook of his neck while I breathe against his damp skin. Neither of us has moved, and with every second that passes, it gets harder to pretend I haven’t noticed.

“I should-” The words die against Theo’s skin, my lips brushing his neck as I swallow. I press my face deeper into the warm hollow beneath his jaw, stealing another few seconds. “Pull out,” I manage eventually.

Theo hums against me, low and exhausted, the vibration catching beneath my lips, my fingers flexing around his hip trying to keep him there.

Instead, I force my grip to loosen and ease away, cold air slipping into the space between us while I straighten my clothes with hands that refuse to stay completely steady.

Theo turns slowly beneath my hand, and I keep hold of his hip until he’s facing me, telling myself it’s because his legs still look unsteady.

His breath catches warm against my mouth, a small, crooked smile pulling at swollen lips as my gaze slips lower, taking in the state of him. His jeans are still sitting low on his hips, shirt twisted across damp skin, hair wrecked from my hands, and the red marks scattered down his throat darken where my mouth lingered.

I did that, and the hot curl of satisfaction in my stomach is there before I can do a fucking thing about it.

My gaze jerks back to his face as though not looking at the marks anymore will do anything about how much I liked seeing them.

His eyes drop between us with a quiet huff, and his fingers brush my stomach as he reaches for my zipper. My breath catches when he pulls it up, his knuckles brushing over my spent cock through the thin cotton of my boxers before he fastens the button.

I look up and find him already watching me, pupils still blown wide enough to swallow most of the green.

I shouldn’t like it this much, and yet my hand is already moving, fingers catching the damp strand of hair falling across his forehead.

I could stop there, but my fingers keep moving, slipping from his temple over the warm curve of his cheek until my thumb settles against his jaw. Theo goes still beneath my hand, and it takes me another second to realise I’m not moving his hair anymore. I’m just touching him.

Fuck. What am I doing?

“Don’t,” Theo murmurs.

My fingers still against his jaw. He looks at me without any of his usual teasing, and my tongue swipes over my bottom lip, catching the lingering taste of him.

Theo gives a faint shake of his head, his gaze dropping between us. “At least wait until I can stand before you run away.”

The quiet laugh he lets out afterwards should make it sound like a joke, but it doesn’t. My stomach clenches as his words find the panic I’ve been trying not to look at too closely, the part of me already pulling in opposite directions while my hand is still resting against his face.

“I’m not-”

I stop before the denial can make it all the way out, because what the fuck am I supposed to follow it with? I’m not running? I woke up in his bed and left without saying a word. I spent days pretending the kiss hadn’t meant anything because that was easier than admitting I’d wanted it, and tonight I shoved him away the second having his arm around me started feeling too fucking good.

Now I’m standing here with my hand still against his face, wanting to keep it there while panic crawls higher into my chest with every second that passes.

I press my lips together and give him a stiff nod instead, because it’s the only answer I can give him without lying.

I lean in and brush my mouth over his, barely thinking about it before I’m kissing him. It’s softer than anything we’ve done tonight, uncertain enough that I feel exposed the moment our lips touch.

Theo jerks back, his head hitting the wall, eyes shooting over my shoulder instead of meeting mine.

For one horrible second, I think I’ve got this completely wrong.

“You don’t have to,” he says roughly.

I catch his chin and turn his face back towards me. “Do you not want me to?”

I hate how uncertain the question sounds, hate even more that Theo doesn’t answer it. He pulls free with a small shake of his head and mutters, “I need to head out,” already slipping around me before I’ve worked out what the hell just happened.

Grabbing his wrist, I yank him back around. “I thought I was supposed to run?”

“I thought I was supposed to run?” My grip tightens around his wrist. Fuck him. He doesn’t get to throw that at me and then be the first one to leave.