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“I know,” he says, closing the door behind him as I wander into the room, still barefoot. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“That’s an understatement,” I say, going to the windows and looking out. Outside, the buildings glimmer along the water at the base of the hill, looking so peaceful in light of the chaos that’s invaded my life. “It feels like everything has changed, and I can’t wrap my head around any of it.”
“Everything has changed,” Theo affirms.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” I muse. “I mean, we’ve been winging it from day one, haven’t we? I guess I just...” I sigh as I watch the world outside. “I guess I just thought it would all be...”
“Predictable?”
I nod. “More or less.”
Theo gives a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you out of there sooner, kid. Really.”
“You got me out,” I reply. “That’s the main thing. And your friends are...” I hesitate, searching for a description that somehow encapsulates both the good-natured hitman Liam and the frosty-as-all-hell accountant Tristan. “Loyal,” I finally finish. “That much is obvious, or they wouldn’t have come all the way out to London to rescue some chick they don’t even know.”
“They know of you,” Theo replies. “You’re the Dalton family black sheep. Everyone knows who you are.”
“And you think I’ll be safe here, given that?”
“As long as you’re with us, kid,” Theo replies, “you’ll be safe. We’ll make sure of it.”
I can’t help but smile. “It’s almost enough to make me wonder if you really are crazy, Theo Emmerico.”
“I just might be.” I feel him come up behind me, and when he wraps his arms around me, I realize he’s shed his dress shirt. He smells wonderful, and his bare chest is warm against my back. “But crazy or not, I’m not letting Lucas get away with what he did to us. He’s not taking you away from me again.”
I turn in his arms, searching his face. “You promise?”
“I promise.” He doesn’t look away, his hands tightening on my waist, and the hunger in his expression sends a shiver down my spine. Silently, he reaches for the ties to my hospital gown and pulls the fabric free from my body, allowing it to drop to the floor. I hold my breath as he takes in my naked torso, drinking in the sight of me like he’s never seen me before. He frowns when his eyes land on the bullet wound, his hand moving almost instinctively toward the bandage.
“Hey.” I take his hand, meeting his eyes. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m here.”
“Yeah,” Theo mutters. “I guess you are. Fuck,” he murmurs as his eyes travel to my breasts, down my abdomen, and back up to my face. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” One of his hands settles on my hip. His other hand slides up my thigh to my waist, where he tugs me hard against him as he traces the line of my body with his eyes. I can feel his desire against my pelvis, and I give a little whimper, my hands moving up his neck in an attempt to draw him closer to me.
“I want you,” Theo says as his thumb caresses my nipple, circling it. The pleasure sends a wave of sparks through me, and I give a little quiver.
“I’m here,” I whisper, and that’s all the permission he needs. Theo’s lips meet mine for a long moment, his tongue exploring my mouth as his hands wander over my body. Eventually he transfers his kiss from my lips to my throat, sucking a mark there as he palms my breast. I can feel my own desire rising, my whole body responding with a growing heat as I fumble with his trousers, desperate to feel him inside me once more. It’s like all the time we’ve spent apart has only sharpened my need for him, and I want him to understand how much he still means to me, no matter what else happens.
Theo’s hand moves between my legs as I struggle to get his belt buckle open, and I gasp when he slides his fingers into me. “Theo—”
But he covers my mouth with his again as he strokes me, making me writhe against him. The beginnings of pleasure are already building, and with a quiet groan, I feel myself respond, my whole body shivering with anticipation.
Somehow I get his trousers open and fumble them down his legs, overwhelmed with desire at the sight of him. Theo takes hold of the backs of my legs and lifts me up, his lips never leaving mine as heat continues to build between my legs. I wrap my arms around his neck as he pulls me away from the windows, already missing the feeling of his hand, but too hungry for him to do anything but to kiss him back. When we reach the bed, he sets me down and then pushes me onto my back, his gaze locking with mine as he climbs on top of me. As soon as he’s settled between my thighs, I pull him closer with my legs, tangling my hands in his shaggy hair as his name tumbles from my lips. A moment later, I feel him press into me.
Theo groans as he starts to move, slowly at first, and then with growing vigor, our bodies melding together like they were made for each other. I’m delirious with pleasure, with the feeling of him inside me, filling me up and making me come alive. I grip his shoulders tighter as he thrusts into me, losing myself in the feeling. How many times have I waited for this moment? How many nights have I lain awake wondering whether he would ever make love to me again? As our bodies move together, the precipice approaches. I moan into his mouth, my body tensing as I reach the point of no return and my back arching as I shudder with release. Theo follows a few moments later, burying his face in my neck and tightening his hand on my hip as he comes.
We linger like that for a moment, clinging to each other as we catch our breaths, and I can’t remember the last time I felt so at ease. Being in Theo Emmerico’s arms once more, nothing else in the world seems to matter.
ChapterTwenty
Iwake up the next morning to the sound of brusque knocking on the bedroom door. The sun is already streaming through the window, nearly blinding me as I blink my eyes open. Theo is gone from the bed, but the sounds of activity elsewhere in the mansion suggest he’s not the only one up and about: voices drift in from downstairs, and the smell of coffee mixes with the smell of something else breakfast-y and delicious.
The knocking comes again, more rapid this time.
“Coming, coming,” I gripe. I roll out of bed, more well rested than I ever thought possible, and as I’m pulling on my discarded hospital gown (I’m really going to have to get some real clothes if I don’t want to draw attention), I realize that for the first time since getting shot, I slept through the night without having any nightmares.
I pull open the door to see Tristan, who’s looking put off already, his dark brows knit together as he steps into the bedroom. “Breakfast is ready,” he says in a clipped tone of voice.
“I didn’t know they put you on wake-up duty,” I quip, rubbing my hands over my face. “Shit, how’d I manage to sleep so late?”
