Page 48 of Make Me Mean It

I shove the blanket down and push my jeans from my hips, kicking them off towards the end of the bed before pulling my own shirt over my head. The room feels colder without it, and I grab Theo’s, yanking it on before I can become too aware of how exposed I am.

His smell surrounds me the moment the fabric settles, and I stop with my hands still caught near the hem.

The shirt hangs loose on me, softer from however many times he’s worn it, the hem falling high against my thighs. I tug it lower, trying to cover more skin, but there’s only so much fabric to work with.

When I look up, Theo’s eyes are open, and my hands still around the hem of the t-shirt.

There’s nothing playful in his expression this time. His green eyes are darker in the low light, and the longer he holds mine, the more difficult it becomes to ignore the reason my skin is already heating beneath his attention.

His gaze moves down the t-shirt I’ve just pulled on and settles on my bare thighs beneath the hem, lingering there long enough that my fingers curl into the fabric.

Theo sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Fuck.”

The word is so quiet I’m not sure he meant for me to hear it, but I do, and the unmistakable want beneath it sends heat spreading low through my body until I’m far too warm beneath the blanket.

His hand scrapes over his jaw, tongue pressing briefly against the ring through his lip. I’ve watched him do that before. More times than I should probably be able to remember.

It’s never made my mouth this dry.

Theo looks away, dragging the blanket over himself and rolling onto his back. His hand settles over the covers between us, fingers slowly closing into his palm until the tendons stand out along his wrist.

“Theo.”

I have absolutely nothing to follow it with. I don’t know why I said it, what I expected him to do, whether I wanted him to look at me or was hoping he wouldn’t.

His jaw tightens, green eyes finding mine from across the pillow.

“Go to sleep.”

His voice is low and controlled, completely at odds with the fist still clenched over the blanket between us.

I hold his gaze, his eyes so dark that there’s barely any colour left around his pupils. My heartbeat climbs steadily into my throat the longer he looks at me, and I have to swallow around it, but even that doesn’t break whatever has me lying there staring straight back at him.