Chapter 4

And the hell with that. Why wasn’t Theo kissing me, if he really wanted to?

He stood there patiently. Right. He was waiting for me to tell him my name.

“William.”

“William? Billy?”

I scowled at him. I hated “Billy.” Michael would call me that whenever he wanted to see how far he could push me.

Theo gave his head a tilt. “So, not Billy.” He reached into my overcoat, unbuttoned my jacket and rubbed his palms over my torso. “Wills? Open your mouth,” he whispered against my lips, his tongue lightly tracing first the top lip, then the bottom one, and finally the seam, not demanding entrance, but asking.

His lips were nothing like the lips I had kissed previously—girls’ lips, women’s lips—so yielding they needed to be caressed gently.