Page 122 of Underground Prince

The orgasm caught him first, but it ricocheted to me as soon as he brought his fingers back into play and rubbed as he thrust.

Our cries echoed throughout the hallway until we were spent and I collapsed on top of him, matching his breaths inhale for exhale.

“Holy…shit,” I breathed.

He gave a spent chuckle. “I’m that good, huh?”

I smacked his pec, but understood the joke and the need to make light instead of going deeper into the understanding that this—us—was special.

Leaning up on one elbow, I retorted, “If you think one orgasm is gonna get me all flushy-faced and ‘Oh God yes, Theo, yes, take me again,’ you got another think coming.”

“Do you seriously consider me a one-trick pony?”

“You carry condoms in your pocket. Pretty sure you’re a sex stallion.”

He burst out laughing, combined with a wince as his chest shook with mirth.

I twisted. “Are you—?”

Theo lifted up, pushing himself farther inside me and I stifled the swell of pleasure, but not in time. He’d been watching my face.

Well, damn.

And he didn’t stop until he proved my statement exactly.

* * *

Theo and I, eventually, somehow, ended up in bed. After our blast of sexual awakening, we both lay flat, side by side, breathing heavily. I summoned up enough energy to get up and find the ice cubes and frozen veggies for Theo, because it was only a matter of time before he really felt the pain, especially once the satiation abated.

My nerves twinkled with a pleasurable ache as I moved around the main room, gathering supplies. My arms throbbed yet felt supple, my thighs weak yet ready for more. The next time, I thought, he’ll be doing very little work because I was more than willing to take the wheel.

Once I refreshed the ice, I wriggled into bed next to him, where he lay resplendent in nothing but what he was born with, not bothering with sheets or the comforter. An arm was thrown above his head, and his eyes were lowered in such a way that I thought he was asleep, until I saw what he was holding in his other hand.

The picture.

He glanced over, sensing my tension. “This was lying facedown on your nightstand. I thought I’d right it, but then I saw…”

I cleared my throat, nodding and scooting closer to him so I could lay ice against him.

Waiting for Theo to say something about her, or how we really were identical, or the pity he felt that I’d lost not simply a family member but my literal other half, I concentrated on covering his bruises, and holding the last one I had, frozen pineapple wedges, to his eye.

“So you as a brunette, huh?”

It was so unexpected and wonderful—so completely the right thing to say to me at that moment—that I smiled, finally meeting his one exposed eye. “What do you think?”

“I think,” he said, running a hand through my hair and tucking it behind my ear, “that you’re beautiful no matter what hue you decide to be.” He lifted up a piece of my hair so the end showed. “Even Crayola suits you.”

I laughed through my nose, batting his hand away so I could burrow into his nape. “I was having a moment.”

“To be individual? Believe me, I understand.”

“You don’t think I was doing it to forget her?” I murmured into his skin.

His chest rose with a brief laugh and he rested the picture beside him. “Hell no. I’ll never judge one’s coping mechanisms.”

“I didn’t just cope,” I said. “I transformed myself into another being.”

His arm curled underneath me, nestling me closer. “I have trouble seeing you as anything but this—you’re a wonder. A woman who knows enough to challenge herself to the impossible. It’s like nothing stops you—you could create fire in heaven. All someone needs to do is ask.”

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