Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 16175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
Theo throws his head back and groans, scrubbing his face with his hands.
Something about watching this small crack in his normally unflappable, nonchalant demeanor does something to me.
Theo Tate sometimes frowns, sometimes scowls. He never looks like he’s off his game. Never. Even when everyone in class collectively panics over a surprise exam, he’s always cool-headed and composed. Like if the sky is falling, he’ll scoff at most.
But this? It’s like I’m meeting him for the first time, which I technically am because he never even looks my way at school.
“Get in, Tess. I’m taking you home.”
Theo opens the door and helps me up, feeling a sweet ache between my thighs when I put my hand in his. Every contact sets my body on fire, and I don’t know how much more I can take.
I slide on the buttery leather seat and pull my dress lower. His eyes zero in on the hem, and his throat flexes as he swallows hard. Feeling awkward and unsure, I buckle my seatbelt but it won’t slide in.
Come on, please. Don’t embarrass me like this. Come on.
“Here.”
Theo reaches over my body, fingers reaching for the cool metal of the latch. He fixes the seatbelt strap across my shoulder and slides the buckle in with a soft click.
He moves to pull away, but my hands find the collar on his black shirt. Our faces are just inches apart. I have no idea what I plan to do next, but if he’s not as attracted to me as I thought, then I’ll spend the rest of the night burying my face in my pillow and crying.
“What do you want, Tess?” His voice is low and gravelly. He’s so close that I can feel his warm breath on my skin.
“I-I don’t know.”
“Don’t you?”
“Theo…”
We’re like magnets drawn to each other, and my eyes start to close on their own, my body tingling with excitement. Theo’s about to kiss me! And I will let him!
The sudden blare of a horn from the car across the street shatters whatever spell is between us. We both jolt slightly at the jarring sound and the moment just … passes.
Theo clears his throat and backs up, closes my door, runs to the other side, and gets in the driver’s seat.
He slides the key in and starts the car, the rumble of the engine blessedly louder than my pounding heartbeat. Heat sweeps across my face, but the blast of air from the air conditioner pleasantly cools my flushed skin.
God, can I get any more obvious?
Theo is clearly comfortable with silence, but I’m not. So I twist at the waist and face him, trying to ease the thickness in the air between us. “So how did you meet him?”
“Viktor?”
I nod.
He sucks the inside of his cheek and keeps his eyes on the road, hands sliding along the steering wheel. The way he does it makes my body react, and I clutch my purse. Everything he does affects me, and it’s driving me nuts.
The inside of the car is dim, especially since we’re a little far from the next streetlight. The patches of darkness at least hide the fact that I look like a tomato, blushing furiously from head to toe.
When I slide him a peek, my heart hammers in my throat. Theo cuts a sharp profile. Even in this view, he looks ruggedly handsome.
“We met a few years ago. I stayed at their place. It was my … last foster home.”
Unaware that I’m sucking in a sharp breath, Theo lets go of the steering wheel at the red light and leans against the backseat.
“I was in the system for a couple of years after my father beat me up so badly I ended up in the hospital for two months. Hence, the scar on my face. Also a couple on my body. In hindsight, that was the best thing he ever did for me because, after three homes that didn’t work, I ended up at the Tate’s.”
“Viktor’s your foster brother.”
He nods slowly. “A brother in every sense of the word.”
“I’m sorry.”
A wave of tenderness washes over me, my heart clenching hard at the thought of a teenage Theo suffering alone in the hospital. Apparently, a shitty father is something we have in common. The only difference is he has physical scars while mine are emotional and mental.
He lifts one corner of his mouth. “Don’t be. If it wasn’t for my father, I wouldn’t have met my family.”
I smile at that. It’s a weird time for it, but I envy him. God knows how much I want to go home to people who actually value me and love me and don’t find every little thing about me annoying.
“So, where do you live, Tess?”
“I don’t wanna go home yet. I’ve only had one drink, and the night is still young.”