Page 165 of The Night Shift
God, no.
Heat licks up my spine, along with something dark and dangerous. His skin is cool beneath my fingertips, still damp from the shower.
“You’re injured.” My palm slides down his shoulder, his muscles shift beneath my touch. “And cold.”
“Then stay.” He nudges my chin up with his nose before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the pulse fluttering beneath my jaw. His foot connects with the bedroom door, kicking it open. “Stay and keep me warm.”
He throws me onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath me and Theo looms over me, broad and bare and carved from moonlight itself.The glow from the window catches on the sharp ridges of his body. His taut muscles, the flex of his stomach as he breathes, the deep “V” that disappears into the loose waistband of his pants. His free hand drags through his damp curls, pushing them from his face.
I swallow, pulse hammering, suddenly aware of just how much clothing I’m wearing.
“Take it off,” he says. “Your hoodie.”
My fingers twitch at the hem. I’m about to take it off. Iwantto take it off. Because this is what we do, isn’t it? In here, he’s in control. And as much as I won’t ever admit it to him, I like being told what to do. Only by him, though. I like the way his voice dips, the weight of his commands, the way my body listens before my brain does.
But something makes me stop. A flicker of defiance. A bit of mischief.
I push myself up on my elbows. “Say please.”
His head tilts, an eyebrow arching. His gaze stays fixed on mine as he moves closer and even though he’s the one looking like a literal god right now, I’m the one he kneels for.
“Please, Holly,” he begs, dropping to his knees, between my legs. “Please put me out of my misery and take off your hoodie.”
I sit up, heart pounding, and grip the hem of my hoodie, pulling it over my head.
Theo’s throat bobs with a hard swallow. His fingers flex against my thighs, like he’s seconds away from losing whatever control he’s pretending to have. His eyes stay locked on my bare skin, on my hardening nipples. His pupils swallow all the blue.
“Do you want to touch me?” I tease.
His jaw tightens. He nods.
“Use your words.”
His fingers dig into my thighs. “Please, my love.”
“Do you want to kiss me?”
Another sharp nod. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips.
“How bad?”
He doesn’t speak right away. His breathing is uneven, his chest rising and falling like he’s been running.
“Speak.”
“Please, Holly.” His voice is strained and desperate. “I’ll die if I don’t get to taste your lips tonight.”
I tilt my head, pretending to consider. My fingers trace the sharp edge of his jaw. His pulse thrums under my fingertips, racing.
“Okay.” My nails press down hard enough to break skin. A thin line of crimson beads along the scratch. “Then die.”
Theo exhales sharply. His head tips forward like I just physically knocked the air out of his lungs.
His breath comes in short bursts. “Baby,please—”
“No,” I cut him off, wrappingmyhand aroundhisthroat for a change. “Begbetter.”
His eyes snap to mine, dark and wide. His lips part, but nothing comes out. He looks at me like I’m the only thing keeping him upright. It makes something sharp twist in my stomach. I love it. I hate that I love it.
