Page 53 of Make Me Mean It

“Would you stop fucking touching me?”

I tear my wrist free and glare at him, but Theo only rolls his eyes like I’m the one being difficult.

“Love the push and pull, baby,” he murmurs.

My pulse gives an ugly little jump, made worse when Theo dips his head, bringing his mouth to my ear.

“Turns me on.”

Blood rushes in my ears, drowning everything else out.

“I’m not your fucking baby.”

I plant my palm against his chest, shoving him, but the only thing I achieve is getting a handful of solid muscle.

Theo laughs, the vibration of it humming straight into my palm.

My fingers flex before I snatch my hand away.

“Sure you’re not.” He winks, already backing away. “Now watch and learn.”

I should use the opportunity to leave. Find Logan, get a drink, go home. Literally anything would be better than standing in the middle of a packed club watching Theo Knox dance.

Then he starts moving, and my feet have other ideas.

There’s something annoyingly familiar about the way he moves, the same easy control he has on the ice carried into the slow roll of his hips. His body follows the music, loose and unhurried, while I stand there painfully aware of how rigid I felt trying to do the exact same thing five minutes ago.

His fingers hook beneath the hem of his shirt as he moves, dragging the fabric up, baring a strip of skin across his stomach, and my mouth goes dry when muscle shifts beneath it.

I wrench my eyes away, looking anywhere but at him, the back of my neck burning.

He grips my chin, guiding my face back to him.

“Eyes on me, princess.”

It shouldn’t reach me over the music, but it does, and my eyes lift to his.

He looks me over slowly, and I become painfully aware that I’m still standing exactly where he found me.

“You have to actually move your hips,” he says, his eyes dropping towards my waist.

The second I try, I become aware of every single thing I’m doing. Where my feet are. What my arms are doing. How much I’m moving. Theo’s eyes stay on me through all of it, making something that should be completely basic feel impossible, and I catch my tongue between my teeth, trying to follow the beat.

“Christ, you’re hopeless,” Theo laughs, tipping his head back, sweat glistening faintly against his skin where it disappears beneath his collar.

His hands find my hips, broad palms spanning either side of me, fingers spreading as he adjusts his grip before pushing one hip gently beneath his hand.

“Do you mind?” he breathes against my cheek.

“You’re already fucking doing it.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

I roll my tongue against the inside of my cheek. “Would it stop you if I said yes?”

Theo’s mouth curves. “Not in the slightest, princess.”

“I hate when you call me that.”