Page 91 of Twisted Shot
He stares at it, at her, at everything that's passed between them inall those moments when words failed him.
And then, slowly, he reaches for her—not for the mask, but for her hand, curling his fingers around hers like an anchor, like a promise.
"I used to need it," he says, surprised by how steady his voice sounds despite the emotion lodged in his throat. "The words came easier when I was someone else. But I don't need it anymore. Not with you, Daisy."
The name feels sacred on his tongue, something precious he's finally brave enough to say out loud. When he sees the tears sliding down her cheeks, his hand moves without thought, cupping her face like she might disappear if he's not careful enough. His thumb brushes away the wetness, and he's struck by how soft her skin is beneath his callused palm—these hands that have only ever known how to fight and defend, now learning how to be gentle.
She leans into the touch like she’s been waiting, like she belongs there.
“Kiss me,” she breathes.
Theo leans down, her breath warm against his skin before his lips brush hers. The kiss is soft at first, like they’re both afraid to shatter the moment.
Her hands grip the lapels of his jacket and tug him closer, and he goes willingly, because there’s nowhere else he’s ever wanted to be, not really, not since the moment he saw her. His palm finds the back of her neck, fingers threading through the silk of her hair, grounding himself in the feel of her, in the heat of her. The kiss deepens, his tongue parting her lips with an urgency that borders on desperation, like he’s devouring her.
Because that’s exactly what he is—starved for her, for this, for the truth of her against him without pretense or distance or disguise.
And now, finally, it’s real. Their first kiss that belongs wholly to them. No mask. No shadows. Just Mila and Theo, bare and burning.
She moans softly against his lips, and the sound shoots straight through him, heat curling low in his abdomen. His cock throbs beneath the restraint of his pants, his whole body vibrating with the need to touch her more, to press her against the nearest wall and make her feel exactly how badly he needs her.
The mask drops from her hand, forgotten between them.
CHAPTER 33
MILA
She is kissing Theo Tilbury in the shadows behind the stage.
And it isnota casual, polite, post-speech peck.
No, this is hands-in-hair, heart-in-throat, full-body-contact making out.
She clings to him, her back pressed against the dusty velvet curtain. Theo’s hands are firm at her waist, his mouth hot and sure against hers.
Every inch of her is thrumming. Her skin sings beneath his touch, and her thoughts have all scattered like pages in a storm. She should be thinking about the event. About the schedule. About literally everything else.
But all she can think is: I’m kissing Theo. And he’s kissing me back. And I don’t want it to stop.
His lips trail to the corner of her mouth. She exhales against him, her hands sliding up his chest, exploring all the dips and sculpted muscle like a randy teenager. Only Theo is no teenager. His kisses are skilled, dirty, and deep, so intense Mila feels a rush of warmth between her thighs.
“God,” she whispers, lips brushing his jaw. “You’re really good at this.”
He lets out a quiet laugh, low and breathless. “I’ve always been more show, instead of tell.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Should I be jealous?”
“No,” he murmurs, mouth ghosting along her jaw, sending delicious tingles straight to her clit. “You should be warned.”
That earns him a soft moan she immediately regrets making—but not enough to stop.
Her body presses closer. Her heart’s practically vibrating. And underneath it all is a wild, beautiful terror.
This is real now. Not fantasy. Not anonymous flirtation. This is him and her.
No masks. No games.
And she’s more turned on, more emotionally exposed, more alive than she’s been in years.
