Page 140 of Make Me Mean It

“Theo—”

The room tilts.

He rolls us in one smooth movement, my back hitting the mattress, sheets tangling around my legs as Theo settles between them.

I stare up at him.

His hair is completely fucked from sleep, dark strands falling over his forehead and into his eyes. His lips are swollen from kissing me, piercing catching faintly when he drags his tongue over it, and he’s braced above me on both arms, caging me beneath him with absolutely no intention of letting me up.

“Live a little,” he says with a shrug.

Like he’s not naked between my legs, his body pressing into mine.

I roll my eyes, but there’s nothing behind it.

There can’t be when my hand is already sliding up his back, fingers curling around the nape of his neck.

Theo’s grin barely has time to widen before I drag him down, our mouths crashing together.

Fuck getting up.

I kiss him harder, swallowing the quiet laugh that escapes him, and Theo gives it back to me, his mouth opening beneath mine as my fingers knot in his hair.

One kiss turns into another.

Then another.

Rushed now. Hungry.

Nothing like the slow, sleepy kisses we woke up with.

Theo’s body lowers over mine and I groan into his mouth, the sound trapped between us as heat tears through me all over again.

This is making the problem so much worse.

I know that, and still I kiss him again.

My other hand finds his waist, tugging him closer, and for a few seconds I let myself forget that we’re in a house full of people. That Marcus could wake up. That eventually I’m going to have to get out of this bed and work out what the fuck I’m doing.

Then Theo shifts against me and another groan tears out of my throat.

I pull away, my head falling back against the pillow, chest rising too fast as I drag air into lungs that don’t seem capable of holding enough of it.

Theo doesn’t move far, his breath hot against my mouth, his body still between my legs and his hands on me.

And somehow I’m supposed to get out of this bed.

My fingers slide into Theo’s hair, pushing the dark strands back out of his eyes, but I don’t take my hand away.

Instead, my fingers stay buried there, combing slowly through the mess we made of it, and Theo watches me from inches away with those stupid green eyes that make remembering why I need to leave significantly harder.

“Let me up,” I murmur.

My grip tightens in his hair as I say it, Theo's mouth twitching.

“Don’t.”

I know exactly what that look means.