Page 64 of Make Me Mean It

We’re standing half naked in a lake, and somehow the fact that it’s Theo Knox in front of me has become considerably more difficult to ignore.

“Are you flirting with me, princess?”

“You’re delusional,” I breathe, curling my hands into fists beneath the water.

Theo tilts his head, teeth scraping over his lip ring, his eyes flicking between mine. “And you’re in denial.”

“No, I’m not.”

His hands slide around my hips beneath the water, a shiver running through me at the touch.

His fingers bite into my skin, and the satisfaction that flickers across his face makes me want to shove him away almost as badly as I want to know what he’s going to do next.

“Prove it,” he says quietly.

“How exactly am I supposed to-”

He pulls me into him, and his mouth is right there, so close his next breath touches mine. Lips parted. That fucking silver ring. Barely an inch between us.

“Kiss me.”

A strained laugh escapes me. “You’re insane.”

“Kiss me,” he repeats, softer this time, tipping his head until his nose brushes mine and his breath spills warm across my lips. “And tell me you don’t like it.”

My heart pounds painfully, caught between the urge to shove him away and one that scares me considerably more. My fingers flex uselessly at my sides, the distance between our mouths shrinking with every breath.

I wet my lips.

Theo watches my tongue pass over them, his lips parting as his fingers dig deeper into my waist.

Fuck.

I feel that everywhere.

Theo’s pupils dilate, swallowing more of the green, and a hot pull answers low in my stomach.

His finger skim up my side, tracing my ribs with a softness that makes my breath hitch. I know what those hands feel like when they grab, when they hold, when they refuse to let me fall. This barely-there touch is somehow worse.

Palm curling around my jaw, he draws me closer, my eyes closing.

I don’t even realise I’ve done it until his thumb passes over my bottom lip, a shaky breath slipping out.

My hand finds his chest, his heart hammering. It pounds, completely at odds with the slow sweep of his thumb and the careful way he’s holding my face.

“Theo,” I breathe.

His thumb pauses, and I swallow, my palm still pressed over the frantic beat of his heart.

“Stop.”

He eases back, jaw clenching, watching my face as his hand slips from my jaw, the other leaving my waist.

Water rushes in, cold where his body was. Every place he was touching me a second ago left bare enough that I feel the loss of it.

Theo hums quietly, the smile pulling at his mouth sitting wrong, missing every trace of the smugness I’ve spent weeks wanting to knock off his face.

“Thought so.”