I laugh. Yimin has a sense of humor beyond making me drink piss tea. I never would have guessed. He smiles. It makesme wonder if he ever has anitch. For some reason when I meet completely put-together people, or people of high power, I have trouble imagining them scratching an itch—letting go of all inhibitions and succumbing to something so purely animalistic.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
My name is Scarlet Stone and I like theatrical masks. My father gave me a real gold mask that he “borrowed” from a museum. He said I should wear it when I need to feel brave. I wear it a lot.
Over the nextweek I eat solid foods, keeping my meals nutrient dense but high in calories. I also do squats and pushups to nurture my neglected muscles.
We move everything from the bedrooms to the main level and garage. The garage is filled with tools and weights. Lots of weights. I now understand why Theo is solid as a bull.
Clearing the upstairs has forced all of my plants onto the main level. He seemed to tolerate them fine, until they all had to be shoved in the kitchen and lounge.
He grumbles as he makes room to set up his camp bed for the night. I can hear him through the thin walls of the bathroom that we now share off the kitchen. I’m up over half a stone but my reflection in the mirror still looks a little gaunt. My hair has been au natural for a while, no more straightening, but Theo hasn’t said anything. There’s no way he hasn’t noticed. I’m tempted to cut it off soon, like really short. Maybe if I can gain another half a stone, I’ll do it.
“You can do this,” I whisper to myself as I open the door, wearing only a black bra and matching knickers.
Theo’s head is bowed, looking at the screen of his phone from the comfort of his camp bed in the kitchen, surrounded by plants. He’s in exercise shorts, no shirt, and his hair is down instead of tied back like it is when he works.
“Theo?”
“These fucking plants have to go.” He doesn’t look up.
I clear my throat. “Theo?”
“What?” He still doesn’t look up.
I maneuver my way through the jungle. He stills his hand, and I know he sees my bare feet and legs. Ever so slowly he allows his gaze to make its way up my body.
“I have an itch.”
His lips part as his heavy eyelids blink once, like he’s drunk on me. “Where?” It’s a deep, throaty whisper that sends chills along my skin.
Reaching down, I grab his warm, calloused hand and place it between my breasts.Touch.I close my eyes for a second. How can something so simple make me lightheaded and breathless? As I start to slide it under the edge of my bra, he curls his fingers and…scratchesme.
“Better?”
I don’t know if I want to cry of embarrassment or laugh because somewhere along the way I lost my seduction mojo. Theo gives nothing away. He could have simply said no, but he didn’t… so there’s that. However, it does little for my bruised ego and myitch.
“Yes,” I say with a frog’s voice and a slow nod. “Thank you.”
My lips twist to the side. He remains stoic Theodore Reed. I turn and make two steps toward the living room, stopping when a hand slips down the back of my knickers, fisting them like I’m his property. My heart slams against my chest as I suck in a quick breath and my body goes up in flames.
Theo pulls on my knickers, making me retreat a step at a time. I’m glad my back is to him so he can’t see how scared and excited andturned onI am in this moment.
He releases my knickers and… oh dear god… he claws his hands down the back of my legs. His fingernails aren’t long but they bite into my skin just enough to awaken every cell in my body. When he reaches my ankles, he slides his hands around and scratches his way up the front of my legs.
Slow.
Controlled.
Dominating.
My muscles flex beneath his touch.
My lips part, releasing erratic, heavy breaths as he curls his fingers into my knickers and slides them down my legs. I jump, a grin stretches across my lips as his beard tickles my backside. He presses his mouth to my skin while his hands rake back up my legs, my stomach, my arms, my neck—scratching and touching me everywhere but my breasts and the pulsing center between my legs that’s heavy and in dire need of that proverbial scratch.
Every kiss along my backside becomes more intense.
Lips.
