Well Suited (Red Lipstick Coalition #4)(36)

But with Theo, I found my situation reversed—not only did I feel recharged, but I craved more.

It was, I believed, because he placed no demands on me. And so, I felt safe in his presence, knowing he wouldn’t withdrawal from my emotional piggy bank, only deposit.

And against all odds, I was excited to be moving in. Moving in meant more Theo time, and more Theo time meant more refilling my tank with his affection.

I frowned. Was I refilling his tank, too? Was I taking without giving? He seemed to be content, but I only saw what he chose to show me.

I made it a point to ensure I was repaying him. Somehow, I’d find a way.

My attention drifted back to the closet in my new room. It was almost the same size as the one at home, which made organizing easy enough. When I scanned the spread, I frowned again, pulling a blouse out of line to flip so it was facing the right way. I noted with a content sigh that all the hangers were evenly spaced and in perfect order.

I consulted the checklist I’d written out yesterday, which now only existed in my mind. Every word was clear as day—I could see the words being formed as I’d written them down. It was the only way I could remember anything lately.

Pregnancy brain was a real thing, and I’d been afflicted.

Clothes were put away in the closet and drawers, although I had to reconfigure my plans for the dresser. On opening the top right drawer, where my underwear was slated to go, I found it full.

Full of black French lace and a note: I see London, I see France. Couldn’t resist. Hope they fit.

I thumbed through the frippery with my throat all tight and my eyes stinging like I was going to cry. Over panties, of all things.

Really, pregnancy was for the birds, if birds were mammals.

Per my list, my next task was the bathroom, and I headed that way, feeling oddly cheerful. My stress over moving had been dissuaded largely by the prospect of Theo’s steady presence and the simple joy of organizing and cataloging my belongings. I enjoyed the methodical order, the action soothing in its own right.

And surprisingly, the change didn’t feel like so much of a change as I’d thought it would.

Maybe it was because I’d been spending so much time here and with Theo. I’d slowly started moving things over after our first step into the grand experiment, which had been a tremendous idea. I applauded myself for deferring to Theo, the relief of not having to decide everything on my own palpable and welcome. His approach was rational, and the exercise of our attraction had in some ways worn us out, like walking a hyperactive dog. The walk would start with a tugging of the leash and end with us panting and splayed out like starfish.

And for a day or two, we’d both be sated. But by the end of the week, we’d be chomping and wild-eyed and slobbering for each other again.

Despite the compounding desire, the rules were effective, comfortable. They gave me exactly what I wanted and needed in a reasonable increment, keeping a level of distance between us that we apparently needed.

I shuddered to think of what would have happened if we’d allowed ourselves to act on every impulse. I suspected I’d have been living here by default—I didn’t think we could stay away from each other. I couldn’t have, not with The Look and that body and those lips always smirking at me. Not with his brain matching mine, point for point, and not with the way he took care of me, cared for me. Respected me.

Little did I know that respect could set fireworks off in my pants.

I finished lining up shampoo bottles and moved on to the box labeled Bathroom Cabinets in neat, tidy marker, the letters uppercase and masculine. Theo’s. Every stroke was certain, confident, deliberate, just like him.

I knelt to pick up the box, and as I stood, Theo walked in. His face immediately twisted into a chastising scowl, and before I was all the way up, he snatched it from me.

I folded my arms, scowling right back at him. “I’m not an invalid.”

“I know you’re not, but the doctor said no more than ten pounds. This is more than ten pounds.” He set the box on the bathroom counter.

“I walked home with more than ten pounds of groceries yesterday and lived to tell the tale.”

That earned me narrow eyes and a flex of his jaw that was almost more enticing than The Look. “It’s like you want to get in trouble.”

“You are not the boss of me, Theodore Bane.”

He rolled his eyes and folded his arms too, but he was smiling small. “Who could ever make you do anything?”

“Oh, you seem to do quite well. You convinced me to move here, didn’t you?”

That smile hitched a little higher on one side. “And to sleep with me.”

“To be fair, I opened that conversation.”

Step one of The Look hit his eyes, triggering the doubling of my heart rate.

He took a step that breached my personal space. “And I closed it.”

I laughed, resisting the urge to reach for him. “Well, it was a good idea.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“Thank you, by the way. For the lingerie.”

“Don’t mention it.”

I laughed nervously as he came closer, close enough to feel the heat of his body and smell his soap. “That’s funny. Unmentionables.”

A smirk. “Tried them on yet?”

“N-no. Not yet.” I backed into the counter, grasping the edge.