Page 50 of Make Me Mean It

Theo’s quiet hum makes it perfectly clear he has no intention of doing anything of the sort.

He closes the space between us until the last traces of sleep still clinging to him reach me, skin-warm and mixed with that familiar scent that’s been trapped on my skin all morning, only stronger coming straight from him.

Theo’s eyes travel slowly down me, and I hold myself still, refusing to react even when he takes his time about it. His fingers catch in the fabric over my chest, knuckles pressing briefly through the cotton before he tugs at it.

“You stole my hoodie.”

“I-”

I look down, ready to tell him exactly where he can shove that accusation, only for the familiar Huskies badge beneath his fingers to stop me.

Oh.

In my rush to get dressed without waking him, I hadn’t even noticed.

I’m wearing Theo’s hoodie.

I look back up, already annoyed by how warm my face feels. “It’s just a hoodie.”

The defensiveness in my voice only makes Theo’s mouth twitch.

“My hoodie,” he corrects softly.

His thumb moves over the Huskies badge, smoothing once across the fabric covering my chest.

My mouth opens, but the comeback doesn’t arrive nearly as quickly as it should. Theo’s fingers are still curled into the front of the hoodie.

Metal catches briefly between Theo’s teeth, tugging at his bottom lip, and an embarrassingly soft sound slips out of me. I cover it quickly with a cough, but the way Theo’s eyes sharpen tells me I’m not fooling either of us.

“In your dreams,” I manage.

He tugs the front of the hoodie, pulling me into him, our chest brushing, and the realisation of how easily I went with him wipes every smart response from my head.

“Oh, princess,” he murmurs, amusement darkening his voice. “In my dreams you would be in nothing but my hoodie.”

His breath skims the skin beside my ear.

“Stretched out,” he continues, quieter now. “Face buried in the pillow. My name across your back.”

My fingers curl at my sides as his words sink in, and suddenly I’m far too aware of the hoodie against my skin. Of how it would feel lying there in it while Theo stood behind me, looking at me exactly the way he is now.

I swallow against the dryness in my throat.

“I bet you would look so fucking beautiful,” Theo hums.

Beautiful.

A shiver runs down my spine.

Of all the shit Theo could have said, that’s the word that sinks its teeth in. Maybe it’s the roughness in his voice or how close his mouth still is to my ear, but it burrows beneath every defence I have, leaving me unsteady.

I shove both hands against his chest and put everything I have into getting him away from me.

Theo gives easily, stumbling back, the cold air rushing in between us, and I suck it into my lungs before I can smell him, feel him, hear that fucking word in his voice one more time.

“There is something seriously fucking wrong with you.”

My face is burning, anger tangling with everything else until I can barely separate one from the other, but Theo only lifts his hands, grinning.