Page 26 of Muse (The Forbidden Hearts #1)

SOPHIE

I lay there on his bed, stripped down to nothing but my bra and panties.

My skin practically hums, my nerves alive and on fire.

I’m burning up from the inside out. My whole body is lit like a fuse, ignited by his touch.

He stands at the foot of the bed, his bare chest toned with muscle.

His eyes locked onto me like I’m the only thing in the world worth looking at. Like I’m his.

God, I want him. All of him.

He moves slowly, agonizingly so, undoing the button on his jeans, then dragging the zipper down. His jeans hit the floor, and my eyes drop to the bulge straining against his black boxer briefs. My throat dries instantly. He’s big. I lick my lips, not even pretending to hide my arousal.

He takes one step towards me, then another. Each one deliberate. Teasing me. It’s maddening. My thighs press together, desperate for friction. I’m already wet for him. Already aching to be touched.

He doesn’t say a word as he reaches for me, his large hands sliding under my knees and pushing them open, baring me to him fully.

The lace of my panties providing little coverage.

His hands push me flat against the mattress, anchoring me there as he climbs over me, his sculpted arms supporting his weight.

His mouth finds the skin of my stomach, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses over the curve of my waist, my hips, to the edge of my panties.

His tongue presses against my clit, just the thinnest layer of lace between us.

I gasp at the sudden contact, hips jerking, and his eyes fly up to meet mine, dark and full of hunger.

The sight of him like this, between my thighs, tongue dragging over me in smooth, deliberate strokes… it’s almost too much to bear.

I arch into him, greedy for more. He takes the hint, his fingers curling into the waistband of my panties.

He peels them off with agonizing slowness, drawing out the motion, and then tosses them to the floor.

And then his mouth is finally on me. I feel his mouth against my bare skin, hot and focused.

My hips buck against his mouth, a moan tearing from my throat.

He groans, the vibration sending shockwaves through me. His tongue circles my clit with precision, flicking, teasing, then flattening as he licks me in broad, slow strokes. I cry out, “more, more, more”, and he answers with a low growl in his throat.

I push against him, wanting his fingers inside me. Wanting him inside me.

His hand slips between my thighs, a single finger teasing my entrance before pushing in, thick and slow. My pussy clenches around him, aching for more. I dig my fingers into the sheets, breathing heavily, as he pumps his finger in and out in timing with his tongue on my clit.

“Please,” I whisper, the sound needy. Practically begging him.

He gives me two fingers, stretching me wider, his mouth not letting up for even a second. Every flick of his tongue sends me spiraling higher, my orgasm coiling and tightening in my core. I’m trembling, my moans growing louder as he brings me to the brink of euphoria .

His name tears from my lips like a prayer as I break, shattering to pieces. My body shakes as he keeps going, licking me through every wave of pleasure. It’s too much, not enough, and everything all at once. He draws out my pleasure until I’m spent, until I’m totally done for.

He finally pulls away, his lips wet with my come, a smirk on his face that’s so smug it should be illegal. I want to kiss it off of him.

I lie there, completely sated and drenched in ecstasy. He grabs a blanket from the foot of the bed, draping it gently over me, then slides in beside me. I roll towards him, hooking my leg over his hips, curling into his warm chest. He wraps his arms around me, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead.

I sigh, completely content in this moment. Blissful, even.

My hand drifts down his chest, fingers trailing over his muscles as I find the waistband of his boxers. I want to return the favor, but as I move to reach for him, he gently takes my hand, stopping me.

“No, Trouble,” he murmurs, his voice deep and husky. “This was all for you.”

I press my cheek to his chest, breathing him in. It’s quiet. Just the hum of the heater and the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.

Then I say, quietly, “Why don’t you want me to touch you?”

He exhales softly. “Because tonight wasn’t about me. It was about showing you how you deserve to be treated. No expectations. No pressure.”

My throat tightens. “That’s not what I’m used to.”

“I know,” he says again. “I see it in the way you brace for rejection. The way you flinch when you think you’ve said too much.”

His fingers trace gentle lines down my arm. Slow, steady.

“You don’t have to earn care, Sophie. You don’t have to perform to be wanted. ”

Something in my chest crumples at that. The part of me that’s always been trying to be enough. Be worthy. Be perfect.

“My ex… he made me feel like love was conditional. Like I had to be grateful that he chose me at all. All the while treating me like crap.”

“Then he never really loved you.”

I swallow hard. “Have you ever felt like that? Like you had to shrink yourself to be loved?”

He’s quiet for a moment before he answers.“Yeah. Not the same, but… yeah. I was with someone once who only loved the version of me she wanted to see. Not who I really was.”

My hand finds his under the blanket, interlacing our fingers.

“We’re both a little wrecked,” I whisper.

“We are,” he agrees. “But maybe that’s why this works. Maybe we recognize that in each other.”

I nod against him. When I finally fall asleep, I do so wrapped in his arms, my chest warm. Feeling safe, seen, and wanted.

I awake the next morning with my mouth watering, likely due to the heavenly scent of eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen.

My eyes creep open and I scan the room, assessing my surroundings.

The bed beside me is empty and the luxuriously soft sheets are tangled around my bare legs.

I stretch out, my muscles delightfully sore from the night before.

I hadn’t meant to sleep the entire night away, but Theo apparently wore me out both physically and mentally. The kind of tiredness that comes after you’ve been thoroughly, completely ruined in the best way.

Still naked, I climb from the bed and make my way to his closet, stealing one of his T-shirts from a high shelf. It’s huge on me, hanging to my mid-thigh and the fabric is soft as it whispers over my skin. It smells faintly of him and I find myself wanting to breathe it in.

In the bathroom, I rinse my mouth with his mouthwash and attempt to smooth down my hair as best I can. It’s hopeless, though. My curls are wild from sleep. I look like a hot mess, but I do my best. If he can’t handle me like this, he doesn’t deserve me at all.

I make my way downstairs, and find him in the kitchen. He stands in front of the stove, shirtless, muscles flexing as he stirs gravy in a pan. The smell of coffee and bacon has my stomach growling loudly. He glances over his shoulder at me, his smile lighting up his entire face.

“Good morning, beautiful. Thought I’d make you some breakfast.”

I practically float into the kitchen on a cloud, convinced now I must be in dream-land. “This looks incredible.”

The island is covered in a literal feast. Scrambled eggs, crispy strips of bacon, sausage links, fresh cut fruit. He even baked biscuits. From scratch, if I’m not mistaken. Is this man even real?

He moves to pull me out a mug from the cabinet, choosing one that says Someone Got Creamed. I burst out in laughter.

“What is with you and mugs?”

He shrugs, filling it to the top with steaming, dark coffee. “It’s just a thing I started back in high school. I’ve collected them throughout the years. Glad you like them.”

“I do! It’s cute.” I smirk.

“Cute?” He shoots me a mock glare. “I’ll have you know it’s badass.”

“Mhmm, sure. Totally badass.” I tease, grinning at him as he hands me the mug. Coffee black, just like I like it.

He narrows his eyes and I know that look. It says you’re pushing it, Trouble. And I think I like it, even a bit too much.

“Help yourself,” he says, handing me a plate. I don’t need to be told twice. I pile my plate high with a bit of everything, savoring the smell. My mouth is watering already.

I love to eat. Always have. My curves reflect it and I’m okay with that. Food is pleasure for me, and I won’t restrict myself.

He joins me, and we eat in comfortable silence, side by side. Enjoying each other’s company. When I’ve taken my last bite, my fork clattering to the empty plate, he leans back and asks, “What time do you need to be home?”

I hesitate and decide to just say it. “I don’t. My parents think I’m at Sal’s this weekend… so I’m okay.”

He hums, low in his throat. That flicker of worry flashes in his gaze, just for a moment.

He doesn’t say anything at first, and I know I’ve brought up a reminder that this is wrong.

Forbidden. I wait with bated breath for his reaction.

But then he takes my plate, setting it in the sink.

And when he turns back to me, his voice holds steady.

“Well, I don’t have any plans either. I’d love to spend the whole weekend with you. If you want to.”

I light up. “Yes, please.” I give him a cheeky grin. “I’d stay here forever if you’d let me.”

His eyes glint, a mischievous grin appearing on his face. “Careful, Trouble. Or I may just take you up on that.”

My heart swells at his statement. I’d love nothing more than to stay in this house forever, with Theo. I can think of no better place to be.

He cleans up the kitchen while I finish my second cup of coffee, and when he’s done, he takes my hand and leads me to the couch. We curl up together, me tucked into his side, his arms wrapped around me. I feel warm and safe. Genuinely happy.

We sit there for a while, the silence between us easy, the kind that doesn’t need to be filled.

And then, maybe because the moment feels too good, too unreal, I hear myself whisper, “What if this doesn’t last? ”

Theo glances down at me, his thumb gently stroking my shoulder. “It’s already lasted longer than I planned,” he says.

“That’s not comforting,” I tease, though my voice barely carries.

“I mean it in the best way,” he murmurs. “This – us – it wasn’t supposed to happen. But now that it has... I can’t picture a world where I didn’t meet you.”

“So we just keep pretending we’re not on a cliff?”

“We’re not pretending,” he says. “We just haven’t looked down yet.”

I let out a slow breath, nestling closer. “Tell me it’s worth it.”

“It is,” he says instantly. “Even if we fall.”

I don’t answer. I just reach for his hand and hold it tight.

He presses a kiss to my hair.

“You’re worth every risk,” he whispers. “And if we’re lucky… we build wings on the way down.”

I don’t say anything. I just lean into him, savoring the beauty of this moment, the safety I feel with his arms around me.

He hands me the remote. “Pick a movie.”

But as I’m scrolling through HBO, he says, “You know, I’ve never seen Game of Thrones.”

I gasp, turning my face to his. “What the actual hell? First Sleep Token, now this?”

“Okay, now…” he says, voice gravelly. “I don’t really watch TV. I typically read. Or drink.”

“That’s… healthy,” I deadpan, rolling my eyes. “We are starting this. Now.”

I queue up episode one, knowing it’ll take us months to get through all eight seasons. And I hope it does. The more time with him, the better.

Around noon, Sal texts to check in. I send back a quick reply, letting her know I’m good, and I need her to keep covering for me today. Maybe even tonight.