Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“I’m not sure what I expected when you said you were making us dinner,” I said, popping another fry into my mouth. “But this was definitely not it.”

Theo chuckled, using his fork and knife to cut into the fried fish cutlet on his plate. His blond hair looked a bit lighter against his freshly tanned skin from our time in the sun, and his gray eyes glowed under the chandelier light. He wore white jeans that hugged him in ways that should have been illegal in any country, paired with a baby blue button down and a navy sports jacket that he’d tossed over the back of his chair when we sat down.

I was wearing the orange dress he bought me in Positano, along with the yellow sapphire earrings — they’d shown back up on top of mine and Joel’s dresser, and I figured one of the stewardesses found them when they were cleaning. I had also braided my hair over one shoulder, leaving my neck exposed.

When Theo saw me, it was the first time all week that I saw his bravado falter, his eyes dipping down to my chest, to the slit where my leg peeked through each time I walked.

“I grew up on fish and chips,” he said. “My mom’s favorite when she was little. Dad hates the dish,” he added with a laugh. “But he’s a smart man and knows making Mum happy is what matters most.”

“Mum,” I repeated with a chuckle.

“Yes, mum , ” he said, tossing a French fry across the table at me.

I batted it away on another laugh. “Your English heritage sneaks up on you every now and then, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, you should hear me when I’m watching a game of football.” He held up his finger, swallowing his next bite before he added. “ Not American football, but the real thing.” Theo shook his head. “I get an accent and everything. Completely absurd.”

He said the last two words with a terrible English accent that had me bending over in a fit of laughter, and when it settled, I took a sip of water while Theo watched me across the candlelit table.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have this air about you?” I asked.

“How so?”

I shrugged. “You just… you have this sort of… power that radiates off you. Confidence. Swagger. Like a king.”

“A king, huh?” Theo said, kicking back in his chair and crossing his ankle over the opposite knee. “I kind of like that image.”

“I thought that the first time I saw you,” I said.

“Oh, when you took a picture of me before even introducing yourself?”

I flushed. “I couldn’t help it, okay?” I gestured to him, waving my hand up toward his hair and then down to his Italian leather dress shoes. “I mean, look at you.”

“I can’t,” Theo said, his eyes glimmering. “I’m too busy looking at you.”

My cheeks burned even more, and I looked down at my finger tracing the rim of my water glass, speechless.

“Come,” Theo said, standing and folding his napkin in half before he abandoned it on the table. “I wanted to wait until after dessert, but patience has never been a virtue of mine, and I’d like to show you something.”

“Should we clean up first?” I asked, gesturing to the table.

“Wayland will handle it.”

I frowned at the mess we left behind, mostly because I didn’t realize we weren’t alone. It made sense, of course. I imagined Captain Chuck was onboard, too. You couldn’t just leave a giant mega yacht unmanned.

Still, I wondered what the captain and first mate thought of me staying behind and having dinner with the owner instead of going to shore with my boyfriend…

The thought slipped away as Theo took my hand, though, and I followed him through the cool night air up the stairs. I waited for him to take me to the next set of stairs that would lead to the sun deck, but instead, he steered me around the corner.

Toward the owner’s suite.

Theo smirked at me over his shoulder. “Thought you might like to see where the king rests his head at night.”

He opened the door, and when we stepped inside, I lost my breath.

The owner’s suite was four times the size of the room I shared with Joel, and it was grand opulence embodied. Soft, warm light outlined the edges of the ceiling and the baseboards, playing with the different shades of wood and marble that danced in tandem throughout the room. Luxurious gold and navy curtains framed the floor-to-ceiling windows, which looked out over the glittering shoreline and dark water. Cream push-pin couches trimmed with gold made up a sitting area in the center of the room, along with a stocked bar and record player, all underlined by a lush navy, cream, and gold Persian rug.

Theo walked over to select a record from the metallic, geometric bookshelf while I continued taking in the room. Its art deco style surprised me because it was so different from the rest of the boat and yet it fit so perfectly.

And it suited him.

I didn’t know what I imagined his room would look like — perhaps because I assumed it would be a mixture of the elements that dusted the rest of the yacht. I expected the teak, and the warm wood, and the low light and grandeur. But I hadn’t expected to find the pops of color, the mixed metals, the old Hollywood movie posters that hung in gold frames on the far wall.

And directly across from the windows was the king’s bed.

I swallowed, walking over to touch the soft, velvet-like fabric of the comforter as Duke Ellington began to play. The comforter was a deep sea green, the bed so massive I was sure Theo could roll over six times and still not hit the edge of it. It was piled high with pillows, the four posts draped with floor-length, steel gray curtains that matched the color of Theo’s eyes.

“I must admit, I’m a bit surprised,” I said, still marveling at how soft the comforter was under my fingers.

“Didn’t expect me to have a four-post bed?”

I chuckled, turning to find him by the record player with his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t expect you to be such a fan of the 20s.”

“Ah,” he said, leaning forward on his toes as he looked around the room with me. The upbeat jazz coming from the record player made me feel even more like I was in a dream or a movie, far removed from reality. “Well, you’ll be even more surprised when you see my penthouse in New York, then. It’s like traveling back in time — well, other than the state-of-the-art appliances, of course.”

I smiled, letting my eyes sweep the room until I found three framed photographs on the bookshelf. I walked directly to them, picking up the first as my grin grew wider. “Are these your parents?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Whitman in the flesh,” Theo said, sidling up to my left. He pointed at the man first, an older gentleman with a full head of dark blond hair and a mischievous smirk much like Theo’s. He wore a black suit and thin black tie, the edges of his eyes crinkled with his smile. “That’s Dad. He’s wearing that proud grin because this was taken on the day Envizion was named number one on Fortune’s list of Most Admired Companies.”

“Makes sense why he’s got the proud father hand on your shoulder,” I remarked, tapping the middle of the picture where a slightly younger Theo stood. “Nice suit, by the way. Is that burgundy velvet?”

“You bet your ass it is. I was going for jazz meets royalty. What do you think?”

“I think you already know what I think.”

Theo smirked. “I still like hearing it.”

I rolled my eyes, nudging him before I pointed at his mother in favor of stroking his ego. “And this is Mum?”

Theo chuckled. “Yes, that angel of a human next to me is my mother.”

She was quite a bit shorter than Theo and his father, with light brown hair styled in a wavy swoop that made her look like she was still in her twenties. She wore a floor-length, cream gown with elaborate gold beading and a halter neckline, and even though the photo was just a five by seven, I could see the ginormous diamond on her ring finger.

“She always made it seem effortless, going to events like that,” Theo said. “She would charm the pants off every man in the room and make every woman wish to be her best friend.”

“Well, now I know where you get it from,” I remarked, smiling as I looked over my shoulder at him. “And your eyes, too.”

Theo smiled. “And who do you get your eyes from?”

“My dad,” I said. “Mom likes to tell the story of when they first met. It was a camping trip, they were both in their late twenties, and her group of friends couldn’t figure out how to set up their tents. My dad offered his help, and Mom says when he finished putting the tent up, he grinned at her from where he was hammering a stake into the ground, and the Colorado sky reflected in his eyes.” I shook my head. “I swear. She talks about rolling clouds of white and green leaves and all this romantic flowery stuff and Dad just blushes and shakes his head.” I shrugged. “It is one of my favorite stories, though.”

Theo smiled, following me along the edge of the bookcase as I picked up the next two photographs — one of him and his Envizion partner in their Harvard days, and one of him skydiving in New Zealand. He made a comment about how one day, he’d have my first TIME Magazine -featured photograph framed there, too, and I just laughed him off the same way I had the first day we met.

I let my fingers wander the records next, leaning into every word as Theo told me about his favorite jazz musicians. Finally, I picked up a very worn copy of The Waste Land by T.S. Elliot, a first edition that looked so mangled I was certain he wouldn’t have purchased it that way.

“I think these things are supposed to be kept in a glass case with protective film,” I remarked, carefully paging through the book.

“Not in my eyes. What are books for, if not to be read?” He paused, watching me as I flipped through before he said softly. “ The awful daring of a moment’s surrender which an age of prudence can never retract. By this, and only this, we have existed. ”

My stomach fluttered with the wings of a million butterflies, and I smiled, closing the book again before running my palm over the worn dust jacket. I gently placed the book back on the shelf, and then followed the edge of the room over to the vast windows.

It was curious, the way I could see so clearly through them. I saw every sparkling light on the shore, and every white cap of the waves that gently rolled by, and every detail of the yacht’s bow that spread out below. And yet, the windows were dark, and I knew from experience that if someone were to look up from the deck under us, they’d see only a silhouette.

“Quite a breathtaking view,” I said.

“Yes,” Theo agreed, and I shuddered when I felt his hot breath on my neck with the words. His hands found my waist, and I sucked in a breath at the contact I’d been so desperate for all week long. “It really is.”

My next breath shook through my parted lips, and I let my eyes flutter closed, leaning back into Theo’s chest. I reveled in the warmth of him connecting with the warmth of me, at the way his arms so easily wrapped around me from behind, holding me tight to him, completely encompassed.

“You said the first time you saw me, you thought I looked like a king,” he mused, nuzzling my neck with the tip of his nose. I felt every word vibrating under my ear. “Do you want to know what I thought the first time I saw you?”

His hands fisted in my dress at my hips, hiking the fabric just an inch higher, but I felt the cool air of the room sweep in like a whispered warning.

“ Mine .”

I sucked in a breath at the word, and then Theo’s lips brushed my neck, his hands fisting again and again as he reeled the fabric of my dress up higher and higher. My legs shook so violently from the touch that I had to lean all my weight into him, and he held me steady, pressing a soft kiss under my ear that made me whimper with need.

“I heard you in your room that night we went to the Grotto,” he whispered as he pulled my dress all the way up to my hips. The lower half of me was bare but for the simple cotton thong I wore beneath it — one I’d felt silly putting on under such a beautiful dress. “You were begging for someone to kiss you.”

Theo held my dress up with one hand while the fingertips of his other slipped under the band of my thong at my hip.

“Who did you want to kiss you, Aspen?” he whispered, sliding his fingertips over my hot skin.

I tried to answer — truly, I did. But my words were lodged in my throat, and every breath strangled to make its way in or out around the response I couldn’t set free.

Theo dragged the tip of his nose up my neck, sucking my ear lobe between his teeth as a full body tremor rocked me from head to toe. “Tell me,” he commanded.

“You,” I said in a rush of breath. “I wanted you.”

“And do you still?”

I spun in his arms, yanking my dress from his grip in the process. The skirt plummeted down over my legs in a curtain of silky fabric, covering me once again, but Theo held firm to my waist. I pressed up onto my toes, locking my eyes on his before I answered.

But not with words.

Confidence and desire took me under their spell, and I pressed my lips to his, taking what I’d wanted for longer than I’d ever admit.

Theo groaned at the contact, wrapping me in his arms tighter and pulling me so fiercely into him that I swore he wanted to completely consume me. His lips met mine in a hot, fervent kiss, and I knew from that first shocking touch that I’d never been kissed before. Not really. I’d never been so wanted, never wanted so badly myself. I’d never had a man devour me with all the reverence of his dying breath and I’d never surrendered to the punishing pleasure of a king’s deepest desire.

Every cell in my body zinged to life like a million stars burning out at once, like the brightest night becoming one giant black hole. I no longer existed but as the woman in Theo Whitman’s arms. I no longer cared to be anything but the source of every pleasure he would feel for the rest of his life.

With his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, Theo pressed my back into the cool windows, meeting my pelvis with his own. He gripped my wrists in his hands, guiding them up the glass until they were pinned above my head, and then he kissed me harder, biting my lower lip, sucking the sensitive skin of my neck between his teeth before he ran his tongue along the small swell of my cleavage showing through the deep V of my dress.

“Is this what you imagined as you touched yourself that night,” Theo husked, kissing me hard again as I moaned my answer into his mouth. He took over where he had my wrists pinned with one hand, letting the other trail down through my hair, over my neck, his palm flattening against my collarbone before he palmed my breast. “Is this how I kissed you in your fantasy?”

I didn’t have to respond for him to know it was more. It was all so much more than I ever could have imagined. The way his masterful tongue played with mine, sending little jolts of fire sparking through my core. The way his massive hands restrained me and pleasured me all at once, one gripping my wrists above my head while the other skated beneath the fabric of my dress, brushing my tender, hard nipple.

I gasped, arching into the touch, eyes popping open to find his hooded with desire where they watched me in return.

“Where is it that you like to be touched, Aspen?” he asked between bruising kisses, pressing his body into mine. “Is it here?”

He twisted my nipple between his fingers, sending a shocking cocktail of electric pleasure and ripping pain through me. Then, he spread my legs wider with his knee, kissing the swell of my breast with his eyes locked on mine as he blindly felt for the hem of my dress and dragged it up, up, up, until he could get his hand beneath it.

“Or is it here,” he breathed, and without warning, his warm finger slipped beneath my panties, running a line through my wet desire as my entire body convulsed with the touch.

I mumbled something, though I wasn’t sure what because it took all my focus just to keep myself upright. I wanted to fall into him. I wanted to give him everything I was and take everything he had to give. I wanted his finger inside me and his mouth on mine and I couldn’t find the words to ask him for it, so I showed him, instead.

I arched off the glass, reaching for him with my mouth before he met my request with another hot, all-consuming kiss. Then I bucked my hips against his palm, crying out with an earthquake of a tremble when his warm skin brushed my clit and his finger slid deeper into my folds, teasing my entrance.

“You’re so fucking wet, Aspen,” he hissed, slicking his finger before circling my clit. My knees buckled, but he caught me, pressing his weight into mine to sandwich me between himself and the window. “Do you understand how badly I wish to be inside you?”

“Please,” I begged, sucking his lip between my teeth.

“Only when you’re mine,” he breathed against my kiss. “Are you mine?”

My body screamed yes! My heart and soul and every cell of my being launched into his arms, branded his name into my skin, and vowed complete and utter belonging. Of course, I’m yours , I wanted to say. Take me. Claim me. You already own it all.

But my conscience whispered a hushed no , and for a reason I couldn’t understand, it spoke louder than the rest.

I stilled under Theo’s touch, panting as I broke our kiss. Our chests heaved in tandem, my wrists still pinned above my head, his finger paused between my slick folds. Those steel eyes flicked between mine, hungry at first, but slowly, recognition fell over them, and all at once, Theo released me.

My hands fell from the window, my shaking legs barely caught me to stand on my own, and every part of me longed to throw myself at him to gain the warmth he’d taken with the retreat.

“You’re still with him.”

I swallowed. “I…” I shook my head, the words I needed completely lost. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s complicated ?” Theo asked incredulously, laughing as he threw his hands up over his head and threaded them there. “Are you sleeping with him?”

“No!” I answered quickly. “Of course not. Not anymore.” I swallowed. “Not for a long time now.”

Theo looked out the window behind me for a long moment, tongue in his cheek, before he met my gaze again. “Then why do you deny me? Deny us ? Why are we still under this pretense of you being with Joel?”

“I’ve loved him since I was nineteen,” I whispered, and already, I felt Wonderland begin to crumble, the walls melting like candle wax, time stretching and snapping like a rubber band. “I can’t just… I can’t—”

“Leave him? Call him on his bullshit? Point out the fact that he treats you like you’re nothing to him when I’m dying to treat you like you’re everything to me?”

My heart surged in my chest, so powerful that I pushed off the window and toward Theo, but he backed away in equal measure.

“You drive me absolutely mad , do you know that? Every waking thought, every restless night, every fevered dream I have is consumed by you.”

“And I am consumed by you!” Tears flooded my eyes, my throat thick with emotion I couldn’t swallow down. “Can’t you see that? I mean, you must know it already. I want you, more than anyone or anything I have ever wanted in my entire life,” I confessed, and my body shook with the admission, trembling violently as I longed for Theo to wrap me in his warm embrace. “I just… I am confused, and lost, and torn between emotions I never knew I could feel.” That admission seemed to sting more than the first, and two tears slipped free with the words, rolling down my hot cheeks in quick little rivers. “I don’t know what to do.”

Theo’s brows bent together, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat. He leaned just marginally toward me, like he wanted to reach for me, too, but something stopped him. Slowly, his face leveled, his lips flattening, jaw hardening into stone.

“Let me know when you figure it out,” he said.

And then he turned, and he left me there, and I fell into a pile of rubble on the floor as Wonderland came crashing down.