Page 24 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

Asshole.

I still can’t believe I told him I was a virgin. Not sure what I was trying to prove, or how I allowed myself to confess something so embarrassing and intimate right after kissing him, but somehow, I managed to do exactly that.

Good one, Blake.

“Answer me,” he pushes.

I dip my chin. It’s a subtle nod at best, but my voice isn’t working. Not right now. Nope. It’s too busy catching in my throat, leaving me desperate for air. Or maybe Theo. Whichever works.

“Then, whose dicks did you see?” he demands.

My attention drops to his mouth, my tongue wetting my bottom lip as the memory from our kiss rises to the surface.

I still can’t believe I kissed him. That he kissed me. That I’ve tasted those lips. That I know what they feel like. Hard. Demanding. Dominating. Addictive.

“Answer me,” he growls.

I flick my gaze up to his again. “It’s none of your business.”

“I’m not playing around, Blake,” he warns.

The only penis imagery rising to the surface belongs to the guy in front of me, but I refuse to admit the not-so-little tidbit, so I shake my head to dispel it and keep my head held high. “I said it’s none––”

He grabs my throat and angles my head up at him, demanding my full attention. I gulp but hold his gaze.

Holy crap on a cracker, Batman!

He’s never touched me like this. It’s possessive. And commanding. And so freaking hot. The pressure is gentle but deliberate, proving he means business as he stares down at me. “Whose dicks did you see?”

“Theo––”

“Tell me.”

I shake my head again, but he doesn’t let me go.

“You think I’m playing, Blake?”

“It isn’t any of your business,” I remind him.

There’s a storm in his eyes. An angry and turbulent storm, transforming the dark blue to a deep gray, one matching his emotions.

He’s beautiful like this. He’d hate me for using the word, but it’s true. All worked up and frustrated. It’s sexy as hell.

I could tell him the truth. The only dicks I’ve seen have been in this very locker room, and I have no idea which appendage belongs to which player since I didn’t exactly see their faces. I could tell him I was avoiding said dicks because I’ve never even wanted to look at one until about two minutes ago when the bastard dropped his towel. I could tell Theo a lot of things. But I won’t. Not when he’s assuming he’s earned the right to care. To know about my sex life or lack thereof. He hasn’t earned anything but a solid place on my shit list, and I don’t see the particular tidbit changing anytime soon.

Now if I could just figure out how to not be turned on when his hand is on my throat and he’s standing over me, that’d be great. Especially when his minty breath is kissing my cheeks, and his stormy gaze is daring me to give into him.

“Blake,” he warns.

My phone buzzes against the ground as another text is delivered, breaking the tension between us like a glow stick cracking. Theo’s hand drops to his side, and he takes a step back, giving me space to breathe. To let out the oxygen I’d been holding in my lungs as if it had the power to ground me when I was oh so close to floating away a moment ago.

Without a word, he turns around, his back muscles tightening as he bends down and grabs my iPhone from the polished concrete floor.

He faces me again, his eyes even harder, and he hands me the phone.

“There a problem?” I ask.

“Burrows texted.”

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