If Theo and I don’t have sex soon, I’m going to lose it.
We spend one more night at the Zion Airbnb. With Paul just down the hall and us exposed in the living room, we’re too paranoid to get into a situation we can’t easily extract ourselves from. The trauma for all would be lasting and complete.
Still, it’s hard to hold back, and we have to keep reminding each other not to take it too far that night when we’re tangled up in bed together.
“Fuck, I want you,” Theo breathes into the dark. He presses his cheek to mine as his hand makes magic between my legs. “We have hotel rooms in Bryce, right?”
I nod, too close to formulate words.
“Good. Tomorrow you’re mine, Shepard,” he whispers, catching my mouth with his to muffle my quiet moan as I come.
We spend Saturday exploring Bryce Canyon, and I endure endless glancing touches from Theo while Paul isn’t looking. Somehow I make it through our late dinner with Theo’s knee pressed meaningfully against mine, but I drag myself back to my room—which is next door to Theo and Paul’s—completely dickmatized. I have Zion pictures to edit, a highly requested TikTok of Gram and Paul photos to upload, and DMs and comments to answer, but as soon as I’m done, Theo better make good on his promise.
But fate is clearly conspiring against us. That, and Best Western. The walls separating our rooms may as well not be there. I hear Paul and Theo’s humming conversation as if I’m in the room with them, and all the plans I had go up in smoke. There’s no way we’re getting up to anything if there’s a chance Paul could hear.
I’d be lying if I said I don’t shed a frustrated tear or two, but it turns into reluctant amusement when Theo texts me later, after I’ve changed into my pajamas.
What are you wearing?
I reply: Did you hear me unzipping my suitcase?
Actually yes, comes his swift response. These walls are made of fucking paper.
Uh, yeah. So much for our plans tonight.
ALL our plans? We can still have some plans. We had plans in Zion.
I snort, typing: Paul was down a long ass hallway and we were quiet. We’re talking inches here.
Yes we are. Eight of them.
My laugh echoes around my room. His comes when I text: Of course you’ve measured your dick.
That’s an eyeball estimate, but you tell me.
I would never give you that satisfaction.
Still, when Theo knocks softly on my door later, I let him inside. Let him press me against the wall and kiss up my neck, along my jaw, hovering over my mouth until I make the quietest sound that screams my need. Only then does he kiss me, a handful of my loose, damp hair crushed between his fingers. We kiss like that, nearly silent, until my lips are bruised and my thighs are permanently clenched.
“Tomorrow’s hotel better have thicker walls, Shepard.” His voice is low and hoarse as he places his hand against my chest, right under my throat. He kisses me with an intensity that contradicts the tenderness in his eyes when he pulls back. “Sleep tight.”
“I won’t,” I grumble.
My favorite picture, though, is of Paul’s hand cuffing the back of Theo’s neck. Late-afternoon sunlight slices across the frame, illuminating their faces—and the obvious love between them. My chest aches; I care about these men, and our time is running out.
Sighing, I click to a photo of Gram’s letter, held open by Paul, captured over his shoulder. Gram’s elegant, loopy handwriting is stark against the paper, made nearly translucent in the light.
It reminds me why I’m here—for her, this secret. For myself and my grief. But I struggle to remember when Theo’s near. At dinner, he sat close, and I felt the promise in every subtle touch he gave me. But when the elevator deposited me onto my floor, he only winked as the doors closed between us. I haven’t heard from him since, and it’s after ten.
I don’t know the rules. We’ve admitted we want to see this through, so what the hell? Is he waiting for my invitation? A you up? text?
“Fuck it.” I grab my phone and type out what are you doing?
His response comes immediately: Open your door
My stomach bottoms out. I’m not proud of how fast I leap from my seat, but I manage to wrestle some control as I open the door.
Theo’s standing there, slipping his phone into the pocket of his gym shorts. His hair is mussed, like he’s been running his fingers through it, and his mouth curls up, his eyebrows set in a stern slash that goes right to the pit of my stomach. He steps closer, his hand circling my wrist.
That touch ignites me. “Were you already here or did you run when you got my text?”
His dimple carves out in his cheek. “Can I come in?”
“Unless you want to repeat the show we gave in Vegas, then yeah, you should.”
He laughs, crowding into my space, pushing me back into the bedroom until the door closes.
I reach for his hips, bringing him close. All traces of his previous amusement vanish, replaced by the same hunger I feel. He doesn’t tease me tonight, just cradles my face and slants his mouth over mine. As soon as our tongues touch, he lets out a low groan that’s still louder than anything else I’ve ever heard from him. It sends a wildness careening through my blood. I fist his shirt, towing him back toward my bed, and he follows me with stumbling steps.
“What do you want tonight?” he asks, same as he has every other night we’ve been together.
I twist, pushing him down to sit on the edge of the bed. He goes without protest and wraps his arms around my thighs to pull me between his legs.
I curl over him, running my fingers through his hair, then gripping it just to hear his hot gasp against my collarbone. “I want you naked in my bed. I want you inside me.”
There’s a beat of silence where Theo’s face stays pressed against my chest, but I hear his muffled “fuck.”
His mouth moves up to graze my throat, sucking at the skin, teeth scraping lightly, then harder, like what I’ve said is finally sinking in. When he tips his chin back, the lamplight catches his eyes. His pupils are wide, blown out with desire.
“Get on my lap,” he murmurs.
I crawl over him, settling my knees on either side of his hips. He grabs my ass and cinches me tight, kissing up my neck. With a quiet groan, he tilts his head, licking at my top lip, then kisses me slow and intense, in a rhythm I know he’ll use when he gets inside me.
“Fuuuck me,” Theo breathes when I start grinding against the hard length of him.
“That’s the plan,” I hum, kissing one corner of his mouth, lingering on his dimple pushed out by his smile.
“Is it?”
I graze my palm over his chest, where his heart beats fast and hard. “Have a better idea?”
He pulls back, his hands moving from my ass to my waist, making a fist in my tank top. His expression is twisted with desire, smile gone. “No. I don’t.”
Our mouths meet as his hands slip under my top, sliding over my skin. The feeling of his warm palms shaping my back, the incredible pressure of him between my legs and the way he pulls back to look at me, his expression in such severe pleasure—I could probably get there just like this.
But it’s not all I want. I’m going to take everything I can get for the rest of this trip. It feels good to go after what I want and get it. Especially when the reward is Theo.
“Take off your shir—”
My buzzing phone interrupts my directive, but Theo’s already pulling his shirt off, with that magical scruff-of-the-neck maneuver. I’m hypnotized by the smoothness of the movement and the nakedness of his chest.
A FaceTime request pops up on my computer, distracting me. I squint, trying to make out who it is. But I’m pulled away from my task when Theo grabs the hem of my tank top, whipping it off. I’m wearing a bralette underneath, but he looks at me like I’m naked.
“God, Noelle,” he breathes, pressing an open-mouth kiss to each slope of my breasts.
I run my fingers through his hair, pushing away the thought of whatever call I’m missing, sinking into the wet heat of his mouth.
The ringing starts again.
“What—” Theo looks over his shoulder toward my laptop. “The fuck?”
I lean over, wrapping my arms around his neck so I don’t fall over in my quest to see the screen.
The flashing name douses the flames we’ve been building, and my heart free-falls into my stomach.
“Oh shit, it’s my dad.” My parents have texted during the trip, and I’ve sent pictures regularly, but they’re otherwise hands-off. Two calls in a row could be an emergency.
Theo’s fingers close reflexively around me as I start to get up.
“I need to get it.” I pry his hands off my ass, nearly falling off the bed in my haste to untangle us.
“You need to get it?” he repeats. He’s intensely rumpled, his knees spread, very clearly hard with a swollen cherry mouth and finger-fucked hair.
I’m going to regret this. But I’ll regret it more if it’s an emergency and I ignore it.
“Sorry, I’m just not sure if it’s—” I grab my tank top from the floor, pulling it on. “It’s late and they don’t normally call repeatedly.”
His expression softens with understanding. “All right.”
I sit down at the desk, angling the laptop so the bed isn’t visible. But then I realize having a half-naked man in my room, visible or not, isn’t ideal. Especially when that half-naked man doesn’t know the story I sold to my parents.
“I—they can’t see you. You need to go into the bathroom.”
Theo blinks. “What?”
“Bathroom!” I wave my hands, panicked. The call cuts off, then starts almost immediately again. What the hell is going on? “Please, go. Now. And turn on the overhead fan. Um, in case it’s a private conversation.”
Theo wipes a hand over his face, dazed, but picks up his shirt. His gorgeous back disappears beneath the cotton material as he pulls it on, and my heart beats hard from the warring needs to have him and take this call. He looks at me as he closes the door, expression unreadable. A second later, the fan turns on.
With adrenaline-clumsy hands, I hit accept, stuffing earbuds into my ears.
My jaw drops at the scene greeting me: my family is crowded into the frame, laughing. My parents are seated at some restaurant patio table, Thomas and Sadie behind them.
“Are you joking?” I yelp.
“Beans!” they all yell in various states of drunkenness.
I place my hand over my racing heart. “You’re drunk dialing me? I thought someone died.”
Dad’s face falls, and he mouths sorry, but Mom leans in, oblivious. “How’s our favorite photographer doing? How’s the trip?”
“It—it’s great. It feels really good—I mean, it’s really, um, it’s been educational,” I stammer, staring at the bathroom door. Jesus, I have an aroused Theo Spencer in there and I’m talking to my drunk family? “Listen, I—”
“Educational?” Mom repeats quizzically.
I shake my head. “I just mean I’m learning a lot. About photography and the areas we’re visiting.” And Gram’s long-lost lover, oh, and also his beautiful grandson, who’s about to blow out my back.
“What are your chances of coming out of this with work lined up?” She picks up a tortilla chip, crunching happily.
Oh my god. “Probably pretty good, Mom.”
That part is true, at least. I’ve gotten more DMs from people inquiring about prints, and plenty of video comments raving about my photos. The traffic to my online shop, which I linked to my profile, is growing rapidly. It’s not enough to sustain me, but it’s more than what I had before.
It feels good. It feels right.
I swear a tear comes to Dad’s eye. “I’m not surprised. Mom and I are so proud of how you’ve gotten back on your feet. I know it hasn’t been easy.”
Sticky guilt coats my throat. “Thanks, Dad. It’s been nice getting back into it.”
Thomas turns to Dad, sensing I need a bailout. “Can you and Mom go get another round?”
Dad frowns, confused. “But we’re talking to Noelle—”
“We have some sibling matters to discuss.”
“Love you, honey, see you Friday!” Mom calls around Dad’s shoulder, then tows him out of the frame.
Thomas turns to me, eyes wide. “Oh my god, they would not shut up about calling. They’ve been bombarding me with questions, like I have a clue what you’re up to.” He pauses. “I mean, I do because of TikTok, but I can’t tell them that.”
A panic-inducing thought suddenly bubbles up. “You have to keep them away from TikTok.”
“First of all, no shit. Second of all, you think they’re going to somehow stumble across a video on a social media platform they don’t even know exists?”
“Just please play defense for me, okay?”
“He’s all over it,” Sadie assures me.
“I am, don’t worry,” Thomas agrees. “But the chances of Dad finding out what you’re doing via social media are slim to none, so chill.”
“Right.” I let out a breath, but it doesn’t release the pressure in my chest. I’ve been so busy inside my bubble that I haven’t let myself think of what I’ll have to do when I step out of it. Telling Dad everything sounds as appealing as going home.
“You should show them to him, though,” Thomas says. “After you tell him about this. They’re really good, Beans. It makes me feel closer to Gram watching them.”
“Yeah,” I say, and we share a twin smile shadowed by our sadness. “Me too.”
Sadie leans her cheek against Thomas’s arm. “Are you good over there? Are you getting what you need out of the trip?”
My cheeks flush even hotter than when I was on Theo’s lap minutes ago. “Yeah. I think so.”
Something in my tone must tip Thomas off, because he lets out a honking laugh, effectively killing our tender moment. “You’re fucking Theo Spencer.”
“No.” I cut myself off, because, well, hopefully yes. “I’m—we’re—it’s complicated.”
“So, you’re exorcising your grief by getting railed by Gram’s ex’s grandson?” Thomas nods, impressed. “That’s one way to do it.”
“If that’s true, you deserve it,” Sadie says. “And I want details later.”
I nod my affirmation, then turn back to my brother. “I’m not exorcising my grief that way, you dickhead.”
“It’s a perk, though,” Thomas says with a smirk.
“If you hadn’t called, it would be,” I mutter.
Thomas blinks as Sadie hops excitedly in place. “Okay, well. TMI, but on that note, we’ll let you go. I just have one request.”
“What?”
“Sades and I made that bet about you and Theo, and her bet was day ten. Which is . . .” He trails off as he counts in his head. His eyes widen. “Fuck. Today. So you’re gonna have to delay, Beans.”
Sadie cheers. “Hell yes! I’m a genius. Noelle, go get your man.”
I cover my face with my hands. “Oh my—”
“I’ll buy you dinner if you wait a day,” Thomas pleads.
“That’ll cost more than what you owe me,” Sadie argues.
He turns to her, placing a smacking kiss on her mouth. “Yeah, but I have to win, honey. Glory beats cash.”
Sadie sighs and levels me with a look. “Fuck the bet. Don’t delay on our behalf.”
Everything inside me is craving a resolution to what Theo and I have been building. Now that I know everyone in my family is in one piece, I need them to go away. “Goodbye, you troublemakers. Take an Uber home, okay?”
“Duh,” Thomas says. “Can’t wait for your next TikTok, dude. Knock ’em dead.”
The screen goes black, and I stare at my reflection in the laptop screen. Mirror-me looks windblown and off-kilter. But despite all of the uncertainty in every other area of my life, there’s one thing I know for sure: I want Theo, for as long as I can have him, and he wants me.
The simplicity of it is calming. It frees my mind of all its other distracting thoughts, lets them drift away until only the honeyed ones remain. I stand, making my way to the bathroom.
When I open the door, Theo’s leaning against the sink, his head bowed, eyes fixed somewhere far away. But then he blinks up, straightening, and his gaze heats immediately.
I reach out my hand. “Come on. We have some unfinished business.”
