Page 25 of Muse (The Forbidden Hearts #1)

THEO

I debate my next move, the answer already sitting heavy in my chest. I know what I truly want, but I also know what I should do. Walk her to her car, say goodnight, and end this here before it moves too fast. Before we cross another line we can’t uncross.

I’m not sure either of us is ready.

But I want to spend more time with her. A couple of hours at the drive-in is not enough. I can feel it. She’s waiting for me, too. To offer it up, or to end our night here. She’s letting me take the lead. Letting me be the maker of bad decisions.

“Do you want to go back to my house? I can make us dinner, I’m a half-decent cook. No pressure, though.”

My voice sounds steadier than I feel inside. Normally, I don’t mind being the one to decide. But there are still wounds I carry. Ones that Evelyn carved into my heart. No one sees those, no one is supposed to. I’m a man. I’m supposed to be strong, resilient. But damn did she do a number on me..

Scars like that take time to heal, to fade.

The smile on her face, though, tells me I made the right choice. “Absolutely. Also, you keep surprising me. Handsome and you can cook? Marry me?”

Well, I certainly don’t hate the idea. Maybe one day. She’s pretty damn amazing. And I’d be lucky, hell, I’d be honored to spend my life with someone like her.

I buckle up, making sure she does the same, and head for home. Anticipation runs through me, feeling like electricity in my veins. The whole drive, my nerves are on edge, my stomach twisting. Threatening to make me head for her car instead, end this night here before it can go any further.

But if I’m being honest, that line I keep pretending we haven’t crossed? It’s miles behind us now. There is no reality in which this could come to light and I wouldn’t be persecuted in the court of public opinion.

And they wouldn’t be wrong to do so.

I’m pushing past everything I once believed in. Severely repressing my moral and ethical beliefs. Every line I drew for myself is getting blurrier by the minute. And I’m letting it happen.

Because it’s her. She’s worth it. Worth every risk, every consequence. I’ll burn my whole world to the ground just to see her smile.

When we pull up to the house, I pull into the garage. I usually park in the driveway, but tonight demands discretion. The garage is so cluttered with boxes and random junk that there’s almost no room, but I squeeze the car in anyway.

“What do you want for dinner?” I ask, trying not to get lost in her beauty. In the way she looks at me.

“What do you have? Actually… surprise me.”

“Anything you don't eat?”

“Nope.” She grins.

I lead her inside, my pup almost exploding with excitement the moment he sees me. “Hey, Winnie!” I scratch behind his ears. He gives me about three seconds of attention before his intelligent eyes fall on Sophie.

Then he’s all hers. He prances over to her, nosing between her legs, and I groan. “Quit!”

She just laughs, kneeling down to rub his belly. “It’s fine. He’s cute!”

He lays on his back, all four legs sticking straight up in the air. He’s such a traitor. I know he’s already in love with her. I get it, bud. I do.

I leave them in the living room and head for the kitchen.

I’m starving, and I’m sure she is too. I pull out steaks from the fridge and get water going for mashed potatoes.

Cooking has always been a type of therapy for me.

I move around the kitchen with confidence, no second-guessing. I’m in my element.

Sophie eventually drifts into the kitchen, settling on a barstool to watch me cook. I’m hyper-aware of her eyes on me, her gaze burning my skin from the inside out. I love this. Being here, with her. It feels so easy and so natural. Like we’ve done this a million times.

But the excitement and nerves in my gut also remind me of the newness of it all.

“I love your home,” she says. “It’s beautiful.”

“Oh, thanks. It was my parents. I grew up here.”

Was. The word hangs in the air heavily between us, and I know she catches it.

“Did they move?”

Her voice is soft, curious. It nearly breaks me, the innocence in her tone. At her age, I hadn’t lost much either. Maybe that’s why she asks that way, not jumping to the worst conclusion. The world hasn’t broken her fully. Not yet. I’m glad.

“No. They died. Recently.” I pause. “That’s part of why I came back. That and… I just needed to get away from the city.”

“Oh, Theo,” her voice is solemn, her eyes tender as she watches me. “I’m so sorry. ”

“Thanks,” I say, before changing the subject to something lighter. I nod towards my bluetooth speaker. “Put on something good?”

She lights up instantly, music clearly being a favorite of hers, and hops off the barstool to connect her phone. Music fills the kitchen. The first song she picks is sensual, the male voice deep and filled with longing.

“What song is this?”

“It’s ‘Talk is Cheap’ by Chet Faker.” She grins, and I can tell she knows her music.

“I’m gonna need you to make me a mixtape,” I say, my voice teasing.

Her face scrunches in confusion. “A mixtape? What’s that?”

I groan, running a hand down my face. I try not to dwell on the age gap between us, but every so often something slips out of her mouth and reminds me of how young she is.

I let it go, refocusing on my task. She keeps me company while I cook, her voice dancing through the air as I finish up our dinner, singing along to every song.

When we sit down to eat, side by side, she moans at the first bite. “This is incredible.”

“Thank you. It’s become a hobby of mine. I’ll cook for you anytime.”

Her eyes snap to mine, full of affection. Then it hits me, what I’ve just admitted out loud. That I want this to be a regular thing. And I do. I’m sprinting headfirst, full-speed towards a landmine. Fully aware of the danger, but unable to stop.

“How about every night?” She teases.

I wink, no backing down now.

We eat slowly, savoring each bite, our knees brushing as we sit side-by-side at the kitchen counter.

The tension between us is alive, humming in the air.

Every glance between us is burning me up from the inside out.

I try to stay focused on my plate, resisting the urge to say “fuck it” and pull her into my lap right here and now.

I want nothing more, but I also don’t want to rush this or move too fast.

After dinner, she helps me clean up the kitchen, ignoring every protest I throw her way. She’s my guest, and I don’t want her to lift a finger. I want to take care of her, let her relax. But she’s hell-bent on ignoring my request.

We fall into a rhythm, moving with ease around each other. I rinse and she loads the dishwasher. The movements feel so natural, like we’ve done this a hundred times before.

When I finish up, and her back is turned to me, I can’t help myself any longer. I step in close, hands sliding around her waist, burying my face in the curve of her neck. Her curls tickle my skin, and she sucks in a sharp breath, body melting back into mine.

She presses into me, her ass rubbing against me in a way that drives me nearly insane, and I have to work incredibly hard to show restraint. I want her. Now. My hands drift to her stomach, creeping higher, but I stop there… waiting for her permission.

And she gives it, guiding me. Taking my hands and moving them to her full, heavy breasts. Her soft moan at the contact is nearly my undoing.

She will undoubtedly be the death of me. Her head tilts back, those beautiful almond eyes finding mine. And then our mouths collide.

The kiss starts slow, soft. Tantalizing.

I let her lead, I’m in no rush. I never want to push for more than she’s willing to give, so I let her set the pace.

She turns in my arms and presses her chest to mine.

In one smooth motion, I grab her thighs and lift her onto the counter.

Her legs part for me, and I press into the space between them, my hips moving against hers.

My cock is already hard, pulsing, aching for her.

She grinds against me, deepening the kiss, and I groan.

She’s fucking addicting. I want all of her.

Her fingers slip beneath my shirt, finding purchase on the bare skin of my torso, and I don’t hesitate. I yank it off, baring my chest to her. She follows, stripping hers too. Her skin is hot against mine, our chemistry making us both feverish, and I nearly come undone.

I trail kisses down her neck, her chest, until I reach her pink lacy bra. Soft. Tempting me. I pause, glancing up for permission. When she nods, I tear it aside, taking her breast into my mouth. Her beautiful, rosy nipples are peaked, betraying her arousal.

Perfect. Fucking perfect.

I close my mouth around her nipple. Sucking, teasing, tasting. Her back arches beneath me, breath going ragged as she clutches my shoulders. She grinds harder against me, her body begging for more.

My hands find the edge of her waistband, and she gives me the green light that I didn’t realize I was holding my breath for.

“Yes, Theo. More.”

I peel her jeans off slowly, easing them down over her thighs until she's laid out before me in her matching pink lingerie. My blood heats in my veins, my body ready to explode. She knew what she was doing, wearing this tonight.

Wearing it for me.

I lift her into my arms, our mouths still connected, carrying her to my bedroom. Knowing we need a bed for this, for me to worship her fully. The way she deserves. When I lay her down on my bed, the look in her eyes is pure fire.

She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to ruin her for anyone else. She’s going to be mine.