Gentleman Sinner

I can’t roll my eyes. I guess the balls would suggest it. ‘No, I’m going to throw them at you.’

He looks at me like I’ve totally lost my mind, and I’ve questioned a few times whether I have. I dip and collect a ball before pulling my arm back and lobbing it across the room without warning, aiming for his chest. His hand comes up and catches it with ease. ‘So you want to play catch?’

‘You’re not supposed to catch it.’ I take another ball and toss it with as much might as I can. And he catches it. ‘Theo!’

He laughs. ‘Izzy, if I don’t catch it, it’ll hit me.’

‘Exactly.’ I clap my hands, delighted.

‘Why the hell would I let that happen?’

‘Because after time, you’ll get used to it. Unexpected touches, I mean. I’ll throw balls at you all the time, and you’ll learn to ignore them. I’ve been reading about exposure therapy, and I think it could really help you.’ I collect another ball and chuck it at his chest, and despite his two hands each holding a ball, he still catches the damn thing.

I growl, and his mouth forms a little O. ‘Oops.’ He drops all three balls at his feet. ‘Might take me a while to get the hang of this.’

‘At the very least, can we talk to your counsellor about it at your next appointment?’

‘What, about you throwing tennis balls at me for the next . . .’ He drifts to a stop, thinking. ‘Seven months? Hoping I’ll get used to it and not kill our child if he or she happens to touch me?’

I recoil, hurt. ‘You don’t have to be so brutal.’

‘You’ve really been studying a lot about this, haven’t you?’

I look away, a little embarrassed.

‘Izzy?’

‘Hmmm?’ I don’t look up.

‘I love you.’

I smile at the floor, slowly raising my head to find he’s matching my gleam. ‘I love you, too.’

‘That’s good, because I’d be fucked right off if I was doing this crazy shit for anything less than your love.’

‘So you’ll try?’

‘Anything.’

I let out a squeal of joy and run at him, giving him plenty of time to prepare for my attack. ‘Thank you.’ I crash into him and immediately apologize for it. I’ve been chucking balls at him and all, and he’s not even fully recovered yet.

He hushes me and tolerates his discomfort. ‘How many tennis balls did you buy?’

‘A few . . . hundred.’

He laughs and lifts me from my feet, ignoring my protests.

‘Theo, put me down.’

‘Be quiet.’ His progress to the bed is slow, and my face remains tight with concern the whole way, but he’s determined, and his smile through the obvious pain he’s in is a joy to see. ‘There,’ he says, placing me on the end and nodding to the top of the bed. I start to shuffle up blindly, following his order, my keen eyes concentrating on his hands, which are slowly pushing his shorts down his thighs.

‘You’re in no condition,’ I murmur, my voice full of lust, my hands reaching to the hem of my T-shirt without thought and lifting it up over my head. Then I remove my bra. My statement is pointless, said through a silly sense of responsibility rather than objection. My blood is heating rapidly, rushing through my veins. My body is calling for him. My nipples are tingling sweetly. My eyes are heavy, my lips parted. I push my jeans down my legs and wriggle to get them off.

If he withdraws his offer, I might lose my mind. It’s been months. Months since I’ve felt him. Months since he’s fucked me blind. Months since we’ve connected, and now he’s looking at me like he’s looking at me, his blue eyes lazy and a slither of his tongue flashing across his wet lips. And that body. That big, strong body. He’s not at full strength, the mass of bulk noticeably lacking, but he’s still a mountain. He’s still gorgeously perfect, and he still looks like a force to be reckoned with. None of this should matter. Deep down, I know I shouldn’t be encouraging this, but I so need him inside me, dowsing the flames within.

Theo clicks his fingers, snapping me from my admiration. ‘It seems . . .’ he whispers, resting his knee on the end of the bed, followed by his hand, and then his other knee and his other hand. He crawls slowly up, taking my ankle and pulling me down to him. My squeal of happiness muffles his hiss of pain. He has me caged beneath him, his torso resting on the forearm of his good arm. He smiles down at me. I smile back, pulling in air and holding it as he brings his face close to mine. ‘It seems that you are the one who is in no condition.’ He glances down the small gap between our fronts, his smile growing. ‘So I’ll have to be gentle with you.’