Page 36 of Seven Lost Summers
Bianca brushes past me, the heat of her body dragging against mine for half a second before she moves across the room.
“Theo,” she calls out, her voice sharp, like she already knows what’s about to happen if she lets him go.
He stops. Two steps away from the doorway. Head down, his back stays towards her.
She steps in front of him, her gaze moving over his face and something shifts. The way she looks at him isn’t the way she looks at anyone else. There’s a gentleness in her eyes, a steady calm that wraps around him without demanding anything back. Like she sees past all the noise in his head, past all those walls.
She doesn’t flinch at his silence. Doesn’t try to fill the space with words. She just waits, reading him, steadying him, knowing how to hold him together without touching a single piece.
She doesn’t rush him. Just stands there, waiting, patient in a way she’s never had to be with me. When he finally looks up, something passes between them, quiet, unspoken, and then she steps in close. The kiss she gives him is soft as breath. Barely there at first. Her hand touches his cheek gently, and I swear the whole fucking room slows down. It’s not heat or fire. It’s something else entirely. Something that sinks into him, into me, into the silence between us. She kisses him as if he matters. As if she sees every broken piece and doesn’t flinch.
When she pulls back, her fingers brush his hand, threading through it. She guides him forward gently. It’s so intimate it almost hurts to watch. A moment later, her gaze shifts.
Those eyes hit mine, and it’s fucking different. No softness. Pure heat. Full-blown, fuck-me fire that slams into my chest and knocks the air right out of me.
I watch her walk Theo toward me; her steps slow, steady, almost protective. She stops right in front of me and lifts her eyes to mine and holds. That look alone could drop me to my knees.
She turns around and faces Theo. I step in close until I hear her breath stutter. Fuck, standing this close, with her trapped between us, has my cock straining and my head spinning.
I glance at Theo and catch the way his throat works as he swallows hard. It’s his first time being this close to someone, willingly stepping into something that is this charged. I don’t think Bianca knows that or how massive this is for him.
He watches her with a quiet hunger. It’s different. There’s no retreat in it. No hesitation.
She reaches up and moves her long black hair off to the side, and that’s all the fucking invitation I need. I move in, my mouth finding the soft skin of her neck. I kiss her hard, sucking enough to leave a mark, letting her know exactly where this is going.
I grind my cock against her ass, and the moan that slips from her mouth… Shit. Pure fucking music to my ears. She presses back into me, arching enough to let me know she craves this as much as I do. I snake my arm around her waist and yank her tighter, her back pressed to my chest, ass snug against my cock. I hold her like I fucking own her. All I can think about is how wet she’s gonna be by the end of this.
I kiss along her neck. It’s slow and filthy, tasting the soft skin under my lips. When I scrape my teeth across her throat, she fucking shudders. Her breath catches, and she presses back into me, hips rolling like her body’s already begging for more.
Theo hasn’t moved. He’s standing there, eyes locked on us. Watching every movement, listening to every fucking sound. He’s devouring it with his eyes, soaking it in like it’s the only thing that exists. But he’s hesitating. Still stuck in that space between wanting it so bad it hurts and being too fucked up to reach for it.
I lift my head from her neck and look straight at him. He meets my gaze, and there it is. That need. He’s burning with desire for her. But fear’s holding him back, anchoring him in place. He’s terrified of what comes next.
I bring my lips back to Bianca’s ear and whisper, low enough so only she hears.
“He’s never done this before,” I say in between kisses. “You’re the first one he’s ever let in.”
She nods. A mere tiny movement, like she understands. She shifts her attention to Theo.
I slide my hand off her waist and watch as her fingers slip under his hoodie.
He flinches. It’s fast. That instinct to pull back and shutdown. But he doesn’t. He stays still, like he’s forcing himself to let it happen.
“Is this okay, Theo?” she asks, soft like she’s scared to push him too hard.
His eyes lock on hers, searching. After a beat, he gives the smallest nod before saying it out loud.
“Yes.” His voice is low, but there’s weight behind it. Like it cost him something to get the word out.
Bianca grips the hem of his hoodie but pauses, waiting for permission.
When he gives it, he lifts his arms without a word.
She moves carefully, slowly, easing the fabric up his chest, taking his shirt with it. Her hands don’t rush. They don’t fumble. She treats him as if he’s fragile.
She pulls the hoodie and shirt over his head, her hands slow, careful, then lets them fall from her hand to the floor.
Theo stands there, bare chest exposed, his breathing shallow, controlled, but barely. He doesn’t look away from her. Not once. His eyes stay locked on hers, as if everything holding him together depends on her staying right there in front of him.
