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The room is quiet, our sounds muffled and soft. Small.
But what’s happening between us doesn’t feel small. It feels big. It feels meaningful, and I remember what Theo told me about being closer than brothers with Marcus and Ryland.
They chose each other.
And I choose them.
Theo’s fingers dig into my hips, some of the gentleness of the kiss fading as need flares between us like a physical force. He holds me tightly, guiding my movements as his hips thrust up against me—slow at first, then harder and faster, hitting my clit with each thrust.
I whimper into his mouth, breaking the connection of our lips to press my forehead against his, our noses practically touching as our gazes lock. His face is so close to mine that I can barely focus on him, but somehow I feel like I can see all of him.
I can see the way his mouth drops open slightly, his lips tight with effort as his sharp breaths collide with my own. I can see the way his eyes churn like a stormy sea as he pauses his strokes, grinding his clothed cock against my pussy as his grip on me shifts slightly, his palms sliding lower to grab handfuls of my ass.
My toes curl and my breath catches as I grind down on him too, using the thick length of him to chase the pleasure building in my core. We’re hardly moving anymore—just small, intense pulses as we hover on the precipice, rubbing against each other as if we’re trying to fuse our bodies together.
“Fuck, Rose.”
The words are a shuddering, whispered groan. Theo lifts his head off the mattress, finding my lips with his again as his whole body goes rigid. He thrusts his hips hard, and the pleasure rising up inside me reaches its peak, sending me tumbling over the other side.
I writhe against him, breath coming in choppy gasps, and as the orgasm cascades through me, I feel the warm, wet heat of his release. His cum spurts into his boxer briefs, soaking into my pajama bottoms as his cock pulses again and again, spilling every last drop.
My arm gives out, and I collapse on top of him, my face buried in the crook of his neck.
We’re both breathing hard, our chests pressing tighter together with each of our inhales. His skin is warm, flushed with arousal, and he wraps his arms around me, hugging me against him.
His cum is a sticky mess between us, but he doesn’t let go of me. He doesn’t roll me off of him and slide out of bed to get cleaned up. He just holds me.
And when I start to cry again, slow tears that seep from my eyes like molasses, he presses a kiss to my temple, reaching up to run his fingers through my hair.
Chapter 6
I fall asleep again for a while after the tears stop, my body still draped over Theo’s and his arms still wrapped protectively around me.
Whether because of the orgasm or because of Theo’s touch, I sleep peacefully for a few blessed hours before blinking my eyes open again.
He’s awake already—hell, maybe he never slept—and when I lift my head from the crook of his neck, he smiles at me softly. The sadness still lingers in his eyes, just like I’m sure it does mine, but I think he looks a little less haunted than he did earlier.
He tilts my head up a little with a knuckle under my chin, meeting my gaze. “Hey. You okay?”
I nod, and he presses a small kiss to my lips before letting my head drop back down again.
For a few moments, neither of us moves. The smell of his skin is like a drug, better than any fucking anti-anxiety medication out there, and I let myself breathe him in with long, steady inhales.
I don’t know what this means, and I can’t quite bring myself to think too hard about it.
My heart is in rough shape already—I don’t think it can handle the monumental, life-altering truth that hovers just outside of my conscious thought. It’s there to see if I let myself examine it, but I’m too fucked up in the head right now to do it.
One thing I am sure of, though, is that I’m not giving up on Marcus.
Not until I see a body.
Not until I see evidence I can’t deny.
Until that happens, I’ll keep feeding the little scraps of hope that live in my chest, and I’ll do whatever I can to help Ryland and Theo find him. I lived through the night I was shot outside Club 47. So why couldn’t he live through this too?
Those thoughts churn in my head, making me anxious to get up and get moving, to do something.
I shift in Theo’s hold, and he hums in his throat. Keeping his arms wrapped around me, he rolls over to deposit me gently on my back. His face is a little wan and hollowed out as he gazes down at me, but his eyes are warm.
