Théo giggled and the sound was surprisingly boyish. Light. He was staring at my mouth with a mixture of fascination and relief. “You did grow a tooth.”
“It’s a temp.” I ran my tongue over it again. “Gabe will install a more permanent implant in a few weeks once everything heals.”
“Oh,Gabewill?”
I raised an eyebrow at his tone. “Are you jealous of another man having his fingers in my mouth?”
“Well, when you put it like that.” He pouted—actually pouted, his lower lip pushing out in a way that made me want to bite it. “Now I want to take a hockey stick to Gabe’s mouth.”
“When did you become such a vicious little creature?”
“I’ve always been vicious.” His pout transformed into something sharper, more dangerous. “The pretty face is just to distract you from my venomous fangs.”
He rubbed against me—a subtle shift of his hips that was definitely intentional—and my dick perked right up despite my injury. Apparently my body hadn’t gotten the memo that I was supposed to be recovering.
“I need a good distraction,” I admitted. “My face still hurts like hell.”
“Kissing is off the table, I don’t want to hurt your face.” He traced a finger down my chest. “Though it makes me feel like Julia Roberts inPretty Woman. It’s my mom’s favorite movie.”
“Are we going to talk about your mom while you’re grinding on me?”
“Definitely not.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “Come on, let’s distract you for a bit.”
He took the arm that was wrapped around his waist and led me down the hallway to my own bedroom. Aspen started to follow but Théo pointed firmly back toward the living room.
“Stay. This is grown-up time.”
Aspen huffed but obeyed, turning around and trotting back to his bed.
Théo closed the bedroom door behind us.
He sat me down on the edge of the bed—carefully, like I might break—and then crawled onto my lap, straddling my hips. The weight of him settled against me, warm and grounding.
He was so pretty up close. Dark lashes framing his almond shaped eyes. His delicate nose contrasted with that full, perpetually disapproving pout. The way the afternoon light caught the blue black sheen of his hair. I wished I could kiss him right now. The wanting was almost a physical ache of its own.
His fingers weaved into the hair at the nape of my neck and he tilted my head gently, inspecting the bruising with clinical attention.
“Do you want to ice your face first?”
“I thought you were going to distract me.” I wiggled my hips suggestively.
“The sunlight really makes the bruising pop.” He traced the edge of a bruise with his fingertip, feather light. His fingers felt cool against my overheated skin. “It really is impressive. Like a gruesome painting.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t one.”
I tapped the other side of my face. “Focus on this side. This side is perfectly fine. Handsome even.”
He considered me for a moment, that sharp gaze softening into something warmer. Then he leaned in and kissed my right eyebrow. Then my cheek. Then the spot just under my jaw that made electricity shoot down my spine.
He worked his way down my neck, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses to my skin, nuzzling into the space where my neck met my shoulder. And all the while, he was rolling his hipsin this slow, deliberate rhythm that was rapidly short circuiting my brain.
All the blood was rushing from my face down to my groin. The pain was still there, but it was fading into the background, eclipsed by the feeling of Théo’s body moving against mine.
I groaned and he pulled back immediately.
“Shit, did I hurt you?”
