The Executioners Three

Chapter Twenty-One: Caught

"And then you would have killed me." He bit his lip—swollen and red. "I mean, glasses and this hair? Do you have any idea what power you wield over me, Freddie Gellar?"

"You...like my hair?"

"Do I like your hair?" Now he was the one to laugh while he brushed a stray curl from Freddie's face. He tucked it behind her ear, and for half a frozen moment, Theo stared at her. Lips parted, gaze hungry, and...

And there was something more, Freddie realized—a reverence on his face that she had never seen anyone wear before. That she'd never known she wanted to see.

It was like Theo couldn't believe his luck; like he was afraid that if he moved, it would all come crashing down. And there was that vulnerability too—the sad, haunted Theo from that morning. The one that, Freddie supposed, always lived beneath his smooth words and smiles.

She had no idea who moved first after that. All she knew was that one moment, she and Theo were a few inches apart. The next, their lips were crushed together.

Fast, vicious kisses with his fingers tangling in her hair—hair she now knew he loved. Freddie clutched at his busted, beautiful face while they pushed harder against each other. No cold, no rising night, no empty parking lot to encircle them.

She could feel Theo's desperation. He wanted distraction, salvation, and relief from whatever it was that tormented his blue eyes. His need filled each kiss, and god, she liked it.

Except no, this was more than just liking. She needed it. As badly as he did, she needed distraction and salvation and relief. But until right now, she hadn't realized how much she hungered for them.

Because Freddie's world was also a fucking mess. There were ghosts and murders and secrets tangled so thick, she didn't know where one knot ended and the next began. Yet right now, none of that mattered. Not while Theo Porter was kissing her.

Theo slid a hand into the blazer, moving toward Freddie's back. Her shirt had ridden up, though; his cold fingers brushed bare skin.

She stiffened with surprise.

Theo stiffened too. "I'm sorry." He yanked his hand back. "I didn't mean to—"

"Wait." Freddie caught his wrist. Then ever so slowly, she returned his fingers to her skin.

"I like it," she told him.

"Oh," he replied.

"Now kiss me," she commanded.

And Theo did. A sweet kiss this time—slow and thoughtful while his fingers traced gently across her hips. Up her spine.

Freddie had never been touched there before. She had always been too shy with Carl. Perhaps ashamed even. After all, none of the models in Seventeen magazine had the same softness or curves that she had.

But with Theo, she found she didn't care. He enjoyed the shape of her, and that knowledge was...Well, intoxicating. Freddie's heart thudded in her abdomen. In her skull. Then a moan left her throat, the softest of sounds.

And it was like a fuse going off. Suddenly the kisses were no longer sweet. Suddenly she and Theo were clinging to each other like the world was about to end.

They would have gone on like that forever too, if headlights hadn't beamed over them. If an engine hadn't abruptly filled the air.

Freddie and Theo pulled apart, startled. Confused. Then they squinted into the headlights blazed toward them through the snow.