[BOOK2]
*****
I want her.
I want her more than I've ever wanted anything.
But I can't have her. Because the moment I admit that out loud, the moment I risk everything we've built, I could lose her.
And losing Isla? That's not an option.
*******
Is...
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The first thing I notice is the warmth. The second is the weight of an arm draped across my waist, holding me in place.
I blink my eyes open, my body sore in places I've never felt before, but it's a delicious kind of ache—the kind that makes last night feel all the more real. The sheets are tangled around us, my bare leg hooked over Theo's, his body pressed against my back like he never let go of me, even in sleep.
For a moment, I just breathe.
The room is quiet except for the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the early morning light slipping through the curtains. It's peaceful. Safe. And yet, my heart still races, my mind struggling to process the fact that this actually happened. That I let Theo touch me, claim me, ruin me in the best possible way.
A lazy kiss lands on my shoulder, his lips warm against my skin, and I shiver as he shifts behind me, pressing even closer.
"Morning, Luna," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep, raspy in a way that makes my stomach flip.
I swallow hard, suddenly hyper-aware of how naked I am, how naked we are, and how there's absolutely no space between us.
"Morning," I whisper back, my voice embarrassingly unsteady.
Theo hums, his lips dragging along the curve of my shoulder like he can't help himself. "How do you feel?"
I know what he's asking, and I almost lie. Almost tell him I'm fine. But when I shift slightly, my thighs protest, and a sharp twinge between my legs has my breath catching.
Theo stills. "Isla."
I squeeze my eyes shut. "I'm fine."
His hand slides down my waist, his fingers brushing over my hip. "Try again."
I groan, burying my face into the pillow. "Maybe a little sore."
He chuckles, the sound low and entirely too smug. "Yeah?" His palm smooths over my stomach, his fingers splaying wide, possessive. "Guess I should've been gentler with you."
The memory of last night flashes through my mind—the way he touched me, worshipped me, wrecked me in the most delicious way.
"I liked it," I admit, my face heating.
Theo curses under his breath, his hand tightening on my waist. "You can't say shit like that first thing in the morning, baby. Not when I already want you again."
A rush of heat floods my body, but before I can respond, he's shifting, sliding down the bed.
"Theo, what are you—"
"Shh." He presses a kiss to my hip, then another lower, his breath warm against my skin. "Gotta make it better."
I barely have time to process what he means before his mouth is on me, and suddenly, soreness is the last thing on my mind.
