Page 120 of The Night Shift
Theo
…
Chapter 24
Holly
Now
At first all I taste is blood. Metallic and salty.
Then come his lips — warm, soft, bruised. Unmoving.
He isn’t…kissing me back. Not really. He’s justthere. His mouth is folded over mine, waiting. Almost like he’s in shock? My pulse panics. Stutters to a halt, then desperately tries to start up again. Beats too fast. I am kissing Theo Carter. And…he’s not kissing me back.
My eyes snap open. I place my hand on his chest and push myself off him, lips still tingling and chest still heaving.
Theo, on the other hand, stares at me like I’ve just asked him to perform open-heart surgery with a rusty spoon and a can opener. His blue eyes are blown wide, pupils dilated until there’s only a sliver of color left. A wet streak of blood smears down his jaw. He looks wrecked, unhinged, and devastatingly beautiful.
His hand is still wrapped around my throat, his thumb sweeping across my collarbone as he searches my face for something.
I shouldn’t have.The words are in my throat. My hands hover uselessly by my side. A flush creeps up my neck, reachesmy ears, the tips burning. My eyes dart away from his face — to the blood on his knuckles, the streaks on his jaw, anywhere but those piercing blue eyes that always seem to see too much. “I-I’m so —”
And then his lips are back on mine. Hot, hungry, and coated with the blood of the man he just killed. For me.
My stomach flips, my whole body is on fire.
His teeth scrape my bottom lip, tugging, biting hard enough that I taste blood. His or mine, I don’t even know anymore. Heat coils low in my stomach, my hands fisting into his shirt even as I try to push him away. This isn’t supposed to feel like this.Heisn’t supposed to feel…to taste like this. Addictive. Intoxicating. Whiskey lingers on his tongue, smoky and sharp, mixing with the coppery tang of blood.
It's…it’s too much. It’s not enough. I’m supposed to hate him. Idohate him. He’s my fucking stalker, for fuck’s sake! I should be shoving him off. I should be driving my scalpel into his throat.
I pull him closer. Theo groans, a low, guttural sound that vibrates against my lips. Somewhere in the haze, I realize the scalpel is gone. I don’t know where it went, and I don’t really care. He cups my ass and lifts me up, my legs wrapping around his hips as he spins us around, pressing me hard against the wall.
Good god.
I thread my fingers through his hair, tugging hard and pulling him closer. I don’t remember the last time a simple kiss made me feel this good. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time someone touched me like this and it didn’t make me want to kill them for it. But this…hishands feel different.Gooddifferent. It doesn’t feel like an intrusion. It doesn’t feel like a threat.
He nips my lip again, making me gasp, and takes advantage of it instantly. He tilts my chin up, his fingers firm against myjaw as he drives his tongue into my mouth — deep, insistent. Like he’s trying to own every inch of me.
My heart hammers in my chest. This is a man starved. He’s kissing me like he’s running out of air. Like he might fuckingdieif he stops.
One hand skates down to my waist, his hips press between my thighs, making me feeleveryhard inch.
I can’t stop the sharp inhale that slips past my lips. My head tilts back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth cautiously begins to trail along my jaw, then down my neck. His hand slips underneath the hem of my top, fingers grazing over the bare skin of my stomach.
“Is this what you wanted, love?” His teeth close over the junction between my neck and shoulder. “All this pretending to hate me, just to get my mouth on you?”
Heat blooms low in my stomach, spreading like wildfire. “Idohate you.” The words barely come out, breathless, shaky, completely unconvincing. So, I drag my nails across his shoulders to further prove my point.
Theo sucks in a breath, his muscles tensing beneath my touch. Tiny pricks of blood bead up beneath my nails, blooming against his skin like delicate little wounds. Proof that Icouldhurt him if I wanted to. But then his smile returns, slow and sharp, eyes dark and telling me that he knows just as much.
His fingers tighten around my throat, tilting my head back until I have no choice but to meet his gaze. “I can’t wait to fuck the lies out of you,” he says, pressing his lips back to mine, harder this time, trapping me completely against the cold wall.
I fuckingloveit.
His hand tugs at the hem of my top. “Need this off,” he murmurs as his mouth finds my throat again, hot and demanding. “May I?”
I freeze. The question catches me off guard. I’m not used to men actually asking. Men never ask. They only take. They pull and strip you down like it’s their right, like your body is something to be claimed rather than offered.
