Surrendered(20)

I inhale deeply. It seems like such a small thing to do, but can I really trust him to secure Harry’s future? Fuck.

I decide to put it all out there, so I tell him exactly what will happen if Harry does get charged. “If he goes down Theo, I’m going to tell them everything.” I tell him calmly.

His expression becomes icy before he turns away from me. He folds both hands behind his head and walks across the patio. He says nothing for a long time.

“You would do that?” He asks without turning to look at me. “You would share something so painful with the world? Because that’s what it will come to Lilly. You’re with me, and therefore, the press will have a fucking field day with this.”

“I would do anything for Harry.” More silence follows until I feel like I’m going to break under the weight of it.

He turns around and meets my gaze, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity. He closes the distance between us until I have to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. His fingers skim my jaw line tenderly, as his eyes soften. “Then I would do anything for Harry. Please trust me.” He begs.

I decide to take a leap and trust him with the fate of the most important person in my life. “Okay.” I whisper. He clasps my face gently in his hands and places the sweetest kiss on my lips. He closes his eyes and touches his forehead to mine.

“Thank you.” He breathes.

Oh god, he kills me. He takes my love and my trust like it’s some precious gift, which makes me feel like shit. Am I so untrusting, so closed off that he is grateful for whatever I throw him? I guess I’m just so used to fending for myself, and not letting anyone in, that it’s hard to rely on him.

“I’m sorry.” I blurt. He says nothing, just smiles and shakes his head.

“You must be cold sugar.” It is pretty chilly out here, but his naked chest is so warm. I let him guide me inside, where he wraps me in the throw from the back of the sofa.

“It’s not that cold.” I roll my eyes. He lifts me onto one of the stools on the breakfast bar, like a bundled burrito, ignoring my griping.

“Okay, you need to eat, and as much as I would cook for you, that’s a once a year kind of event, so I’ll take you out for breakfast.” He tells me.

“Ugh, I need more coffee.” I’m not even going to argue with him about the fact that I feel like I’m going to throw up. He’ll just whine that I’m too skinny.

“Coffee I can do.” He closes the fridge door, milk bottle in hand, he takes a swig straight from the bottle.

“Gross.” I say.

“What, you don’t want to share germs with me?” He says with a wry smile on his lips.

I smile back. “Baby, I’ll share your germs any time.” I raise an eyebrow at him. He flashes me his sexy smirk, and I start to think that maybe sex can fix everything.

I need some kind of control, because right now, I feel like I have none. I have always used sex to gain control. Theo has always been the ultimate fix. If sex were a drug, then he would be fucking heroine, the ultimate hit, the most euphoric of addictions. If I can control him, I can control anything, because he’s so dominant, so wild in so many ways. It’s fucked up, and wrong, but it’s what I need. It’s how I cope. It’s not like he’s not fucking happy to oblige.

I crook my finger at him and beckon him closer. If there is one thing that I can safely say about Theo, it’s that he thinks with his dick approximately ninety percent of the time. He smiles wide, a knowing gleam in those baby blues. When he’s close enough I hook my fingers in the front of his trackies, pulling him closer to me. My face is level with his chest. I nip at one of his pecs before swiping my tongue across it. His muscles tense under my lips as his hands move to my shoulders. I’m not sure if he’s restraining me or holding me in place. I trace my fingertips over the taught skin of his stomach. Again, his muscles tremble and tense under my touch, making me smile. I make my way down his body, until I’m cupping his now rigid cock through the thin material of his trackies. I slip my hand beneath his waist band and gently trace the length of him with my nail. He trembles a little, his reactions a perfect blend of pleasure and torment. I smile to myself, and flick my eyes up to find him looking at me with a shit eating grin on his face. What is it with men and their ‘I’m about to get laid face’. They have a total inability to play it cool.

“I can’t work out whether I’m distracting you, or you’re distracting me.” He smirks.

I shrug. “Both.” I yank his trackies and boxers down over his hips. His fingers tighten on my shoulders. I move off the stool and slowly drop to a crouch in front of him. His eyes never leave mine, and I’m gripped by their smouldering intensity. I find myself desperate for his touch. I kiss his stomach and trace my tongue between the ridges of muscle. I work my lips everywhere, except his cock. His hands move from my shoulders to my hair, where he pulls at my hair tie, freeing the strands. He grabs my hair up and wraps it around his wrist, yanking my head back. I can’t help but gasp at the force of it. He holds me there, him looking down at me whilst I look up the length of that fucking amazing body. I have to admit, the view is pretty epic. Every muscle in his body is tense, dominating, controlling, but we both know that I’m in control here. I own him and he fucking knows it.