Page 54 of Nemesis
I debated for a moment, knowing I should probably head back inside, but I was frozen in place. He was beautiful and I could watch his broad shoulders and tapered waist all day long.
Flashes of those powerful shoulders and arms tensing over me as he stroked deep inside, my nails leaving marks on his skin sprouted in my mind.
I was jolted out of the memory when a flash of movement caught my attention. I looked back to where Theo previously was, only to find him heading toward the lake, stopping at its edge.
He reached over his head, slowly peeling his shirt off, his back straining from the movement. He tossed the fabric on the rocks next to him before tugging his pants down, his shoes following suit shortly after.
I was too concentrated on him peeling off his clothes to actually realize he was now only in his underwear, his black briefs tightly hugging his backside and thighs.
My breath hitched as I watched him slowly tread through the water, waves rippling around his body as he swam farther in.
Once his body was halfway covered, he dove in, submerging himself completely before reemerging a few seconds later, running his hand through his soaked curls, smoothing them back.
An ache slowly formed low in my core. The desire to join him and run my hands all over him tingled the tips of my fingers.
He glanced over his shoulder once again, noting I hadn’t moved. His shoulders shook lightly with a chuckle before he dove his body down enough to tip his head back. His laughter boomed in the air, reaching my ears, the sound warming my heart.
I’d missed seeing him this carefree.
CHAPTER22
SOFIA
God, I fucking hated cooking. Rosa also cooked for us at Victor’s house and when I was living with Theo, he’d always insisted on being the one to do the cooking because I wasn't very good at listening to his instructions whenever he would try to teach me.
When it became just me, I only survived on takeout because it was either that or self-inflicted food poisoning.
Theo and I had barely talked since this morning and the last time I’d seen him was during our little encounter earlier this afternoon.
Frustrated with my lack of response regarding his questions about my nightmare, he’d waltzed out of the cabin and spent most of the day outside. It wasn’t until later in the afternoon, after his little swimming session, that he waltzed back in, wood logs in hand, water droplets clinging to his shirt.
After showering, he locked himself in the bedroom for the rest of his day, the door firmly closed.
I eventually got hungry and nothing from the refrigerator could be eaten quickly. So here I was, standing at the counter beside the sink, haphazardly chopping vegetables, making the only dish I knew how to.
I was pretty sure that wasn’t how vegetables should be cut, uneven sections and pieces flying all around, but they were still being cut, which was what mattered at this moment.
“Nobody ever taught you how to use a knife?” a voice said, its sound magnified by the previous silence.
I jumped, pointing the knife in its direction. A strong hand clamped around my wrist, and my eyes swung up to meet a devastatingly familiar pair of dark eyes. Theo arched an eyebrow at me, and my body relaxed slightly when I realized he wasn’t an intruder.
He was dressed in another pair of black slacks, a gray Henley shirt hugging his torso like a second skin. His hair was disheveled, like he’d spent the last hour running his hands through it.
Why did he have to be frustratingly beautiful?
“Dámelo,” he prompted, tilting his head to the side before his gaze dipped to the hand holding the knife, my mind finally catching on that the tip of my blade was nudging against his chest. He placed his hand on top of mine, and I quickly released my hold on it.
He put the knife down on top of the counter and turned to face me again. After a moment, concern bloomed on his features.
He reached for my other wrist, but I yanked my arm away. He grabbed it again, holding it firmly against his chest, tugging me closer to him. His breath ghosted over my face and my breathing halted, my gaze solely focused on his Adam’s apple bobbing.
Tilting my chin up, I saw him lift my hand to his face to get a closer look. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring. “You’re hurt,” he stated.
My eyes widened as I looked down at my hand. Shit, I fucking cut myself and it was bleeding profusely, slowly soaking the front of his shirt, a few drops dribbling on the wooden floors.
Of course this would happen to me.
I tugged against his hold. “I’m fine.”
