Page 69 of Begin Again

But neither of us moves. Neither of us dares.

Because we both know—not like this.

So we just lie there, tangled up in emotions neither of us is ready to name until sleep finally takes us.

19

Selene

Awarm, solid heat presses against me, the delicious weight of a man wrapped around me. My body hums, still tangled in the lazy pull of sleep, moving instinctively—seeking more, pressing closer.

A sharp inhale, a low groan against my back.

“Selene,” Theo’s voice is rough, strained. His fingers tighten on my hip like he’s grounding himself—or holding himself back. “You gotta wake up, Sweetheart.”

His words filter through the hazy blur of my dreams, and my eyes flutter open. It takes a second to register, to feel the unmistakable press of him against my backside. The moment I do, heat floods my cheeks, horror, and arousal clashing in a dizzying wave.

“Oh my God.” My body jerks as I try to twist away, but his grip doesn’t let me get far.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Theo murmurs, voice still thick with sleep, edged with a darker intent. His hand flexes against my hip, keeping me flush against him. “You don’t get to grind on me all night and then run away now.”

I groan, burying my face into the pillow. “I am so sorry.”

He shifts behind me, and I feel every inch of him—hard, hot, undeniably affected. “Yeah, I noticed.” His lips graze the shell of my ear, his breath warm as he murmurs, “And I didn’t want to take advantage. But now that you’re awake…”

Turning my head I catch the glint of mischief in his gaze. My pulse stutters, my body betraying me as I shift against him again. A sharp inhale hisses through his teeth, his grip tightening just enough to make me feel deliciously trapped.

“Theo,” I whisper, a warning, a plea—I’m not sure which.

He presses forward, the full length of him hard and insistent against me, and my breath catches.

“This,” he says, rolling his hips just enough to make me feel him everywhere. “This is what you do to me.” His lips brush my jaw, then lower, skimming the sensitive spot beneath my ear. “Every damn time.”

A shiver racks my spine. “Then maybe we should act on it,” I murmur.

A quiet curse slips from his lips. “You sure?”

I turn in his hold, meeting his gaze. His eyes are dark, hooded, searching mine for any hesitation. There isn’t any.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

A tension snaps, control fraying, and suddenly, his mouth is on mine—hot, desperate, all-consuming. His fingers tangle in my hair, angling my head as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing me into the mattress. I arch beneath him, hands fisting his hair.

We break the kiss, breathing heavily.

My gaze trails down as I drink him in. The hard lines of muscle, the way his chest rises and falls, the hunger written across his face as he watches me look.

Then his hands are on me, sliding beneath my sleep shirt, pushing it up, his palms mapping my skin. He presses a kiss to my throat, then lower, tracing a path down my shoulder, my collarbone, and the swell of my breast.

“Theo, please don’t stop.” I gasp as his mouth closes around my nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive peak. My fingers weave into his hair, tugging just enough to pull a deep groan from his chest.

He pulls back, eyes burning. “Never.”

Before I can answer, he shifts, pressing my hips down as his mouth trails lower. Over my ribs. Down my stomach. His fingers hook into the waistband of my shorts and panties, dragging them down with excruciating slowness.

I lift my hips to help him, anticipation thrumming through me, my skin already on fire.

Theo looks up, his mouth hovering over where I need him most, his eyes locking with mine. He murmurs, “I want to feel you come apart for me.”