Page 33 of Last Letters to Ara
I shrug. “Because nobody asks.”
“What were you thinking?”
Shit. I didn’t expect him toactuallyask.
“I’m happy that you like my place.” That sounds too romantic. I quickly add, “Because it would suck if my new best friend never wanted to come over.”
“Now, you’re never getting rid of me,” he says with a wink.
I hide my smile by walking into my creative room to deposit the supplies. In the end, Theo picked a gorgeous emerald-green velvet material and a black satin for the lining and lapel. Grabbing my stool and measuring tape, I head back out to the living room, closing the door behind me.
“What’s in there?”
I freeze. I’ve never shown anyone my design room, not even Dad. It’s always been my oasis to be as vulnerable as I wanted, without any fear, and as great as Theo is, I may never be willing to share it. Not wanting to offend him, humor is the best way to brush it off.
“That’s just where I store all of my murder weapons and sex toys.” I shrug. “Sometimes they’re interchangeable, so it only makes sense to keep them in the same room.”
Theo laughs. “I see what you’re doing here, but I want it on the record that I’m not pushing you. You can show me your secret room whenever you’re ready.”
“You seem mighty sure that I will. Why is that?”
“I want to know you better than anyone else ever has.”
His words, theydosomething to me, igniting something deep. I set the stool down beside the couch, doing my best to conceal the tremors.
“Up,” I order.
Theo begrudgingly stands from his spot on the couch, moving to stand on the stool, but I stop him with a hand on his chest. “The stool is forme, giant.”
Theo smiles down at me as I step onto the small stool, just reaching his nose.
I claim no responsibility for what leaves my mouth next. “Take off your shirt.”
Theo raises his brow, and it’s at this precise moment that I pray he has never been measured for a suit, because nobodyeverdoes it shirtless. The question dances in his eyes, sending me on the defense.
“Do you want the jacket to fit perfectly or not?”
He smirks, slowly lifting his shirt over his head, muscles on full display as they flex with the motion.
Shit.Theoreallygoes to the gym, looking like a goddamn erotica cover model. The sound of panties hitting the floor echoes in my mind.
“Put your arms out.” I keep my face all-business even though my blood sears a painful path through my veins. Where did my sudden brashness come from?
I stay silent as I go through the motions of measuring Theo, starting with his shoulders, the only sound filling the room being his soft inhales each time I graze his skin. Maybe it’s because my hands are cold, but in my core I know it’s more, feeding my boldness.
Finding excuses to touch him again on his chest, his biceps, I slowly graze him each time as I work my way down. When it’s finally time to measure his waist, my mind goes dead as I brush my fingers down his abs, touch featherlight, feeling them clench beneath my tips. The noise he makes in the back of his throat snaps me out of my haze.
“Sorry, I’m just trying to find where your waist is.” Heat rushes to my face. What thefuck, Ara? I know that gorgeous V at his waist is literally staring you in the face, but stop groping him.
Theo nods and doesn’t say anything. By the time I’m done, I feel like I’ve tortured the poor guy. He looks like he is inphysicalpain, eyes so stormy they’ve changed color.
He moves to put his shirt back on, stepping close as he pulls it over his head. I look up just in time to see his eyes dart away from my lips, back to my eyes. A devious smile creeps up at the corner of his lips.
“My turn.”
Pause.“Your turn for what?”
“To measure you. Shirt off.”
