Page 51 of The Monster and the Masochist

My cheeks heated.

I had said that… hadn’t I?

Jesus. I really was cuntzilla.

“Yes, well. I was just cranky because my life had been completely uprooted overnight due to my brother’s inability to make good life choices. That wasn’t about you.”

Theo just chuckled and stepped deeper into my space.

It was as if with each step she took, the walls shrank around us.

I was breathing weird, and for some reason, my ass was sweating.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

Theo stopped a foot away from me, her dark eyes darting over every inch of my face, as if she was trying to commit my features to memory.

I never understood why she looked at me like that. We’d known each other for months now. She knew what I looked like.

But whenever she studied me like this, it always made me feel exposed. Like she was seeing more than just the polished shell I presented to the outside world.

It was like she was seeing me.

The real me.

The me that no one else ever seemed to be able to handle.

As she stood there, watching me, the air between us began to feel hot and tight with anticipation, and I suddenly didn’t know what to do with my hands.

After a long moment–when it became clear I seemed to have lost the ability to make human words–Theo tilted her head toward my couch.

“Maybe we should sit?” she suggested, and my throat rolled as I swallowed, forcing myself to snap out of whatever weird waking coma Theo’s presence seemed to have forced me into.

“Uhm. Yeah. Of course. Please…” I gestured to the couch before turning toward the kitchen. “I’m gonna have some wine, you want something to drink?”

“No.”

I frowned at the abruptness of her answer and glanced back to find Theo flopping down on my sectional.

She tossed her arms over the back of the couch and spread her legs out in front of her, looking for all the world like some sort of pirate lord ready to lead their crew into battle.

“Okay. Not even water?”

Theo’s dark eyes followed me as I made my way to my wine fridge to fish out my half-empty bottle of pinot.

“Sure. Yeah. Water is fine,” she said, clearing her throat slightly.

I nodded and finished preparing our drinks before curling up next to her on the couch.

I kept a respectable distance, and after taking a sip of my wine, I placed it on the coffee table before turning to her and giving her my full attention.

She was leaning forward now, with her elbows on her knees, staring into the cup of water in her hands like it had the answers to life’s most meaningful questions. Her brow was furrowed, and I found myself reaching out to brush the tips of my fingers over the warm, smooth skin of her cheek.

I must have surprised us both, because we jumped simultaneously as my fingers made contact.

Theo turned wide, surprised eyes onto me, and for a second, I was overcome with the nearly unbearable desire to squeeze the fuck out of her cheeks.

She was so damn adorable when she looked at me like that, which isn’t a word I ever thought I would use to describe an underground street fighter.