Theo was with me, all heat and muscle and moaned encouragement. He swallowed it all, and when I realized with horror that I was gripping his hair so tightly it must have hurt, I jerked my hand to my side.

He released me, my shaft and his mouth shining wet in the crimson light. He shoved down his ridiculously small bathing suit and placed my hand back on his head. I tentatively tightened my fingers, pulling his hair just a bit.

Groaning, he leaned into my touch as he jerked himself roughly, eyes closed and mouth open. He spurted over his hand, splashing my knee and muttering a string of obscenities.

He slumped against my legs, keeping me on my feet for at least a few more minutes. I couldn’t resist caressing his hair as we panted harshly. It felt like being in a cocoon, just the two of us in the ghostly light from the kitchen. If only we could stay this way…

Esmeralda’s outraged meow made us both jump. Somehow laughing, Theodore pushed to his feet. “Sounds like the princess is jealous. Or hungry. Like always, right? I can relate, sweetheart. Mmm, what I wouldn’t give for a Big Mac and large fries. Plus a shake. Shamrock is the best, obviously, but otherwise I go for vanilla. I like chocolate—I mean, who doesn’t—but not in a milkshake for some reason.”

I blinked at him as he shimmied back into his bathing suit, my heart fluttering from the way he’d said sweetheart. Which he’d directed at my cat, I reminded myself.

Wake up!

I tugged up my cold, damp bathing suit and tried to shake off the hazy aftershocks.

“Can I give her a treat?”

I nodded, and Theo disappeared into the kitchen, opening the right cupboard with a familiarity that swelled my heart dangerously. Esmeralda zoomed after him, and he murmured to her, the package crinkling.

When he returned, he watched me carefully. “Do you want to lie down?”

What was he saying? Did he want to go to bed together? Did he think I was about to pass out? Had we really just done that? What did this mean? What was going to happen next?

I thought of sleeping beside him in Torino, or when he’d napped in my bed during his migraine. How innocent he looked as he slowly woke, licking his lips and blinking blearily.

“I have early practice.” It was true. I didn’t know what I wanted or what to say, so I said that.

For a moment… Did he look disappointed? Hurt even?

But in the next breath, he was grinning carelessly the way he did so often. “Think of me fast asleep when you’re dragging ass out to the Chalet in the dark. And I’ll see you for the Christmas Eve group session thing. Right?”

His smile faltered, and my heart skipped as I nodded. Biting his lip, he slowly reached out to take my chin. He turned my head and leaned close, pressing his lips to my cheek the way he had in that rainy alley in Torino when I’d followed him to make sure he didn’t get hurt in his dazed grief.