An Extra Pump of Sugar

Chapter 13

Our journey to the second floor was no easy feat.

Theo only let me climb a few stairs before snatching my waist and pushing me up against the wall to steal another kiss. I twirled away from him with a quiet laugh, but he just couldn't get enough, and I ended up with my ass to the banister and his hands in my hair.

"You're gonna knock the picture frames off the wall," I scolded.

"Just wait till I have you in bed. None of your décor is safe."

He extinguished my witty reply with another kiss, and his excitement warmed my blood. It was an indescribable feeling, to be wanted in this way, to be sought after, even with my limited experience. To Theo, I wasn't simply a conquest—a prize to be won—but a specialty he'd sampled once and chose to order again. He couldn't keep his hands off me, and my ego was singing.

Honestly, I didn't care if that made me narcissistic or self-absorbed. This was the first time I'd ever tasted raw vanity, and it was incredible.

I giggled, mumbling feeble protests as his hands explored my thighs, my hips, the skin of my lower back. Then hot palms sank beneath the rim of my jeans to claw at my lace underwear, and I gasped into his mouth.

"Someone's impatient," I teased, although I wasn't even sure he heard me. He was too busy fighting my jacket, desperate to remove my layers. I slipped out of his grasp, leaving him alone with the puffy garment, and when I finally set foot on the second floor, I beckoned him toward the door on my left. "Inside, before anyone else sees us."

He tilted his head at me with a devious grin. "You ashamed of me, Mona?"

"Hardly. You make me shameless, and I refuse to traumatize my roommates. Come on."

He followed after me, shutting the door behind him and tossing our jackets to the chair already buried in laundry. My bedroom was dark, save for the silver light pooling in from the window. But even in the darkness, Theo eyed me like a feast to be devoured, and it sent a barrage of pleasant shivers down my spine.

I kicked off my boots and lifted my sweater up over my head, savoring the way he stared at my bare stomach and the subtle boost my bra gave me. He looked at me like I was the sexiest person he'd ever laid eyes on, and his infectious desire tickled my abdomen. 

God, was I really that enticing to him? Or was he just putting on an act to make me feel confident in my skin?

My fingers awkwardly fumbled for the button of my pants, but he refused to let me undress myself. In the time it took to inhale, he'd latched onto me, kissing my lips, my neck, my cleavage. He lingered at the space between my breasts, releasing them from their cage and sighing into my skin like he couldn't believe what he was doing. Like they were the perfect size and shape and firmness simply because they were mine.

My fingers curled into his hair, and as he knelt down on the carpet, I watched him unzip my jeans and pull the fabric down over my hips, my knees, my ankles until I was clothed in nothing but purple underwear and—tragically—ankle-high socks.

"Fuck," he said, kissing his way up my shins, his hands gliding over bare skin. His eyes roamed over my curves with a reverence I didn't deserve. "You're gorgeous."

The compliment made me squirm. "Please."

He shook his head, fingers digging into the back of my knees. "I'm serious, Mona. You're..." He exhaled through his nose, peeling off my socks, one by one. I wasn't sure how he made such a mundane, silly action so sexy, but I couldn't look away. "You're a treat, and you don't even know it."

Without warning, he yanked my underwear down my legs, leaving me entirely naked before him. Leaving me exposed, mud stains and all.

My cheeks grew hot under his invested gaze, and even though he had to be looking at me from the most unflattering angle, he didn't seem to care.