Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“My mom decorated it after I moved out.” He laughs through the palpable pain in his voice. “I’m not this vain.”
Who is the boy in all of these pictures? Shaggy, blond hair and a smile that could light an entire universe.
Theo as a baby in the arms of his beautiful mum. She was truly stunning.
Theo holding his first hammer as a toddler, standing next to his father, both wearing overalls and tool belts.
Theo riding horses.
Theo playing American football in school.
Theo in a deep red suit with a black tie, standing next to a girl with long blond hair, dressed in a strapless black dress. Maybe a school dance. I smile.
“Your band,” I whisper as my fingers wipe away the dust from the black and white photo of The Derby performing on stage. Just like the video Nolan showed me, Theo is zoned into his guitar.
He wasn’t always the law. Theo lived a normal childhood. He had girlfriends, loving parents, and a beautiful life. It’s so perfectly … heartbreaking.
I turn and study the vulnerable version of my Theodore Reed perched at the end of his bed, hands fisted on his jean-clad legs.
“You had a normal life.” I exhale a whisper of a laugh. “I think. Actually, I’m not sure I know what that means. I never had normal. Nothing about me has ever been relatable. Oscar told me to just be me. I’ll be thirty-two next month, and I still haven’t got a clue who I am.” I roll my lips between my teeth, easing my way to Theo. His mouth stays firm; his eyes sparkle with something hopeful.
He grabs my hips and straddles me over his lap. I lace my fingers together behind his neck.
“Maybe you could just be mine—the naked body I worship, the mouth that sucks my—”
“Stop!” I pinch his lips together like a duck’s. His grin makes my grip on them slip.
“No gag reflex.” He shakes his head.
I shove him back on the bed. His body vibrates with laughter. I’ll let him make crude comments all day if it means I’m rewarded with smiles and his endearing chuckles—so uncontrolled and innocent.
My face hurts. I think my grin could crack it.
Theo squeezes my legs with a firm grip. “Scarlet Stone?”
There it is again.
His voice.
My name.
It forms a lump in my throat and makes my eyes burn with tears.
“Hmm?”
“I don’t deserve you.”
My grin chases the tears away. “You really don’t.”
“Can we keep that little secret just between the two of us?”
Twisting my lips, I cock my head to the side. “Yes. But I’ll need it in writing.”
“In writing?”
I nod. He interlaces his fingers behind his head. It makes his white T-shirt pull up just enough to expose a few centimeters of his abs.
“Like a contract?”
I shake my head. “Something more permanent.”
His right eyebrow peaks. “Such as?”
I trace my finger along the wide waistband of his black briefs, to the left of his happy trail. His erection grows firm, inching closer to my finger. My lips curl into a smirk that matches his. His muscles tense, tipping his pelvis up a bit as if he thinks I don’t already see how turned on he is right now.
“Right here.” My finger dips under the waistband.
He groans as I tease his skin so close to where he’s most begging for my touch.
“This is where I want you to put in permanent writing that you don’t deserve me.”
Theo’s eyes narrow. “You want me to get a tattoo?”
I nod.
“About you?”
I nod.
“Right there?”
“Yes. Right here. My name in red, everything else in black.”
Stealing my breath, he sits up, stopping when the tip of his nose touches mine. “We’ll see,” he whispers.
“Will we?” I breathe back, a little more breathless than intended. I’m rubbish at hiding how much he affects me.
“Yes. Now … what else do you want from me?”
Forever. I want all the days. All the smiles. All the breaths.
“I want to hear you play.”
His gaze goes through me. A contemplative side I’ve seen a million times.
“There’s one of my first guitars … in the attic. I think.”
My eyes roll to the ceiling. “How do we get up there?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Theodore
The pull-down attic ladder is right outside of my parents’ bedroom. I haven’t opened their door since my dad was taken out in a black bag. The room was cleaned. I know behind the door there no longer exists a drop of blood, yet I can’t open the door. Not today.
I pull on the chain and bring the ladder down. Scarlet focuses on the closed bedroom door. She’s smart. I don’t have to tell her why it’s shut and why I have no intention of opening it.
“Don’t stare at my ass. It makes me feel violated,” I say as I climb the ladder first to turn on the light and access the attic that’s been undisturbed for years.