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Again, I think wildly. All of this, all of him, again.
The wave recedes, leaving me wrung out and boneless. My body folds forward and I kiss the top of his head. His hair smells like Herbal Essences shampoo. My stomach tightens; I imagine he pilfered it from his sisters, and, becoming addicted to its girly yet delicious scent, has used it ever since.
I want to know more.
“Excuse me! Excuse me, are you lost?”
My stomach plummets, blood rushing cold, at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. A second later, the beam of a flashlight cuts across the pool deck, and I scramble to yank down my skirt before the beam hits us.
Thankfully Theo’s one step ahead of me. Moving with a speed that belies his size, he’s on his feet and whipping around, tucking my mangled thong into his pocket. He uses the bulk of his body to shields me from view as he holds up his hands.
“Sorry, ma’am, we were just admiring how pretty the pool looks at night. We’re guests at the hotel.”
“Pool closes at dusk.”
“Understood,” Theo replies easily. “My colleague and I were just heading back to our rooms anyway.”
Colleague. Technically that’s what I am to Theo, but now the word cuts like a knife as I stare at his broad back. Theo’s shoulders are huge, hulking amost. So different from Aiden’s.
But Theo calling me a colleague to get out of a sticky situation? The same, even though we just became so much more than that. I’ll never forget how I felt when Aiden introduced me as his “employee” to a waitress during one of our secret getaways to London. I’d laughed it off, but I wondered why he didn’t say girlfriend or even friend. Made me think he was ashamed to be seen with me—like I was somehow defective, too weird or unattractive or just plain wrong for a man like him to ever date.
It hurt then, and it hurts now. And like I did then, I feel like a dirty habit of Theo’s, one he hides but can’t for the life of him kick. When I was with Aiden, some desperate part of me thought that was a good thing. That our connection was special, too strong to ignore. That same part of me believed Aiden might be fighting it because he didn’t want to hurt me. Didn’t want to destroy my career or my reputation, which was why he was so hellbent on keeping our relationship under wraps.
I’m still not sure how I feel about it all after he called it off. But I know for a fact I’m not looking for a fuck buddy. I want dick, but I also want devotion.
By indulging in a late-night hookup with a coworker who, with the exception of the past forty-eight hours, has been a total jerk to me, I’m setting myself up for disappointment. Again.
I’m selling myself short. Again.
“C’mon, Miss,” Theo is saying.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Yup.”
The security guard’s flashlight hits Theo’s face, and I see he’s frowning, clearly confused by my sudden change in mood. I manage to give the security guard a tight smile as I bend down to pick up my shoes and scurry into the nearest building, Theo hot on my heels.
“Hey,” he says.
I don’t stop. “I can take it from here, Morgan.”
“Hey.” He grabs my wrist just as I get to my room and I spin around to face him. “Are you okay? I’m sorry about the security guard, but I don’t think she saw anything.”
His hair is wild, licks of it sticking up from where I pulled it as he gave me some of the best head of my life. His stubble is really prominent now, making his bright red, swollen lips stand out even more. But it’s the look in his eyes that makes me ache. That bewildered sheen that’s part hunger, part concern.
I want a man to look at me this way and mean it.
But how can Theo mean it if we’re completely at odds with each other? How can he mean it after however many jet-lagged gin and tonics he’s had tonight?
“This was a mistake,” I say, careful to keep my voice low.
His expression contracts. He looks stricken. “Was I too rough? If I hurt you—”
“No. No, you didn’t hurt me. I just—” Shaking my head, I close my eyes. “Bad idea. I’ve done this before—”
“Oral sex in public? Really? Good for you.”
I find myself grinning despite the moon rising in my throat. “I’ve learned it’s best not to shit where you eat.”
“Oh.”
I glance down at his obvious erection. “I’m sorry—”
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he says, voice rough. “I feel like I pushed you into this. Pushed you too far, maybe.”
I liked the way you pushed me. Too much.
“I made the first move.” I meet his eyes. “This is on me too. Can we just . . . as cliché as it sounds, can we pretend it never happened?”
