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I kiss him. At first, it’s all hurt. My mouth presses hard to his because I’m angry, scared, and alive. Theo came back, but it still wasn’t enough to erase that he left. Theo takes the kiss without trying to steer it.

When I soften, he follows. When I lick into his mouth, he shudders beneath me and lets me set the rhythm. His hands stay at my waist.

I pull back enough to look at him. “You’re being very careful.”

“I’m trying not to take.”

I brush my mouth over his again. “So, ask.”

His pupils flare. “Pepper.”

“Ask me for what you want.”

His purr deepens until I feel it between my thighs.

“What I want if you on my knot because you choose me even when you’re mad enough to make me earn every inch.” His eyes burn into me. “Will you let me touch you?” he asks. “Will you let me hold you until you stop smelling like hurt?

Heat rolls low through me. “Yes. I want that too.”

He nods. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

“I will.”

His hands slide under my sweatshirt, rough palms hot against my back. My body arches toward him before he asks for more. I lift my arms so he can pull the sweatshirt over my head, then I reach for his shirt. He lets me undress him with shaking hands.

The kitchen floor is cool beneath my knees. Theo’s body is warm under my hands, solid and waiting.

He bends to my throat, then pauses.

“Yes,” I say.

His mouth lands beneath my ear, soft first, then open and hungry. He kisses the places my scent pours strongest and purrs when my thighs clamp around his hips.

I’m still hurt. I’m also wet enough that the first brush of his fingers over my leggings makes me gasp.

Theo groans into my neck. “I need to feel you.”

“Yes.”

He works my leggings down my thighs, careful to remove my ruined socks. Then his hand returns between us and finds me with a patience that makes my eyes sting.

He doesn’t rush the way he touches me. He maps me as if I’m new and uncertain terrain. That makes it worse. Better. Both.

His fingers slide through me, gathering wetness, circling my clit, dipping inside just enough to make me rock against his hand. I grip his shoulders and breathe against his mouth.

“Look at me,” he says.

His face is open in a way I haven’t seen before. Ruined and reverent. Afraid, but not hiding.

“I will mess up at some point in some way,” he says.

“Probably.”

A rough laugh breaks through his purr.

I hold his face tighter. “Don’t shut me out. Come back to me.”

“I will.”