Page 164 of The Night Shift
He studies me. “A part of me is glad that it happened.”
I frown. “Me being stalked?”
Theo nods. “You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
“That’s really fucked up. And also, untrue.” My fingers tighten around the stem of my glass. “I would’ve landed up here sooner or later.”
He smiles. “To stab me in my sleep?”
“Precisely.” I finish the rest of my wine.
Theo keeps watching me like he’s turning something over in his mind. Something shifts in his expression. A flicker of something softer, something…sad. I don’t like it.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head, the expression gone just as quickly. He gets up and grabs both our glasses in his uninjured hand. “Want me to top you off?”
“No, that’s okay. I should go home.”
“You haven’t even eaten.”
“Yeah, I’m not that hungry.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go, setting the glasses down. He steps closer, fingers trailing lightly over my knuckles. A slow, teasing touch. “You’re not leaving.”
“Theo.”
“I’m serious, you’re not leaving me so soon. Severe abandonment issues, remember? So be good and tell me what you want to do if you don’t want to eat.”
His fingers trail up my arm. “I don’t know.”
His response is immediate, “We could make out.”
I lurch back. “What? No!”
He laughs at my reaction. The sound slides under my skin, settling somewhere warm, and I wonder what other sounds I can get out of him.
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, then drifts lower to trace the side of my throat, his fingers lingering at the curve where my pulse is now pounding. My breath catches before I can stop it.
“You like it when I touch you,” he murmurs.
My body grows warm. “That doesn’t mean I likeyou. I just like the orgasms you give me. There’s a difference.”
“I can work with that.” His fingers skate down over my hoodie. Then lower.
His hand presses against me, cupping me through the thick fabric. The warmth of his palm is like a brand. His thumb moves, just slightly, and heat coils low in my stomach. “Fuck,” I whisper.
Theo smirks against my temple. “Yes, that’s the idea.”
He lifts me with one hand. His good one. Just wraps it around my waist and hauls me up like I weigh nothing.
I gasp, instinct taking over as my legs wrap around his hips, arms looping around his neck. My fingers knot into damp curls and I’m careful not to press against his chest. His hand is still healing. His body is still battered. We shouldn’t do this.
My lips part, the words forming, but then his mouth is on my jaw, hot and possessive, trailing down my skin, and my thoughts shatter like glass.
“Theo,” I murmur.
He keeps moving, carrying me effortlessly down the hallway, his grip strong despite the sling. His lips graze the hinge of my jaw. “Do you want me to stop?”
