Page 155 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

“It made you smile,” he murmurs.

With my head against his shoulder, I close my eyes. “And that was the goal?”

“Yeah, Blake. That was the goal.”

“Mission accomplished,” I whisper, peeking up at him. “Although, if I remember correctly, there weren’t roses in the scene.”

“Thought I’d add my own Teddy flare.” He leans a little closer, his breath tickling my cheeks.

“I thought you didn’t like to be called Teddy.”

“Guess it’s grown on me.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm-hmm,” he hums, the sound low and throaty and oh, so hot it makes my knees weak.

“Has anything else grown on you?” I ask.

His mouth twitches, but the bastard still doesn’t put me out of my misery, refusing to kiss me as his warm gaze bounces around my face. It’s like he’s memorizing it. This moment. Me. Everything.

“Just my best friend’s annoying little sister,” he murmurs.

If anyone else had said it, I’d be offended, but as the words slip past Theo’s lips, I can barely withhold my laughter––or my love. Hell, it feels like it’s bubbling up inside of me, clogging my throat and every ounce of logic and self-preservation. Instead, I just want to fall for the man in front of me. Let him love me the same way I love him. The same way I’ve always loved him. For years. But for the first time, the fear accompanying the thought is absent. If anything, I feel peace. He’s asking for my opinion. He’s learning to compromise. He’s communicating––even if it is in front of a shit ton of people. He’s doing everything I asked and more.

I love this man.

We’re barely moving now. There’s only so much coordination a girl like me has, and dancing on the ice without skates––and on top of roses––is quite the test.

Theo has me, though. Like an anchor, he keeps me grounded, his firm grip around my waist more than adequate to keep me from falling. Well, physically, anyway. Emotionally? I’m a goner.

Resting my head against his chest, I let the cheesy song wash over us and dance with Theo as our audience finally grows bored enough to file out of the arena. When the song ends, it’s replaced with an instrumental Taylor Swift song. Gotta give the guy credit, he definitely has an eclectic taste, and I hum the melody as the team shuffles out, along with Mia, Ash, Kate, and the kids, leaving us alone on the ice.

As the song ends, and it’s only me and Theo surrounded by roses, I look up at him. “Thank you.”

His soft smile makes me melt.

And when he whispers, “Olive juice, Blake,” my breath hitches at the words more potent than I love you could ever be. Because it’s Theo. And what we have? It has depth. History. So much history, it’s daunting sometimes, but there’s a comfort in it too. A knowledge that we’ve been through so much together. Seen so much. Endured so much. And if we could conquer all of our past bumps along the road to being together, maybe we can get past our future hurdles too. Maybe we have a chance.

I don’t say it back.

I’m not sure if I can.

Thanks to the thoughtful bastard, my voice is too busy choking on my own emotions to make a peep.

But my heart? It’s fuller than ever.

My tongue darts out between my lips, and his attention drops to them before I mouth olive juice.

His lips are on mine in an instant. One hand cradles my face while the other snakes around my waist and tugs me closer, melding me to him. But it isn’t enough. Even our clothes are too much of a barrier. I want to feel him. I need to. It’s like the final stupid rift between us is gone. And now that I have him? All of him? There isn’t a chance in hell I’m letting him go. Nope. I’m gonna get lost in his kiss. In his taste. In his presence. Because I’m allowed to. Because I trust him. And I know he won’t let me down. He won’t hurt me. He won’t push me away. Not anymore.

He drags his tongue along my bottom lip, and I whimper softly.

More.

I want more.

Tilting my head, I kiss him harder, my fingers tangling in his jacket and tugging at the fabric, anxious to rip it off. To connect with him.

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