The Gray Effect - Chapter 37: Chapter 37

S O P H I A H O N E Y
I SWALLOW HARD, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"H-here?" I stammer, my voice embarrassingly shaky.
Theo doesn't say anything, just watches me with those damn eyes-dark, expectant, waiting. I dart a glance around, and my stomach flips when I spot a couple of people stepping out of the house nearby. A few passersby stroll past on the sidewalk, completely unaware of the internal battle I'm having.
Theo must notice my hesitation because his grip on my hand tightens just a little. "I could drive somewhere quiet if you're okay with it," he offers, his voice lower now, rougher. Then, softer, "But if this is too much-"
"It's not!" I blurt, a little too quickly, a little too eager, and his eyes sharpen at my reaction.
God.
Heat rushes through me, spreading like wildfire under my skin, pooling low in my stomach. My thighs squeeze together on instinct, and I curse internally when I feel the way my body clenches in response to the thought of actually sitting on him.
I clear my throat, trying to play it off. "It's okay," I mumble, shifting awkwardly. "It's just a hug. No big deal."
Yeah, aside from the fact that I'm about to sit on his damn lap.
I exhale, mentally thanking myself for wearing jeans today. If I'd worn leggings or-God forbid-a skirt, I don't think I'd survive this.
Theo finally releases my wrist, exhaling like he's forcing himself to let go. Without another word, he turns and gets into the driver's seat, and for a moment, I just stand there, trying to catch up with what's happening.
When I finally move, slipping into the passenger seat, he doesn't waste a second. The car rumbles to life, and before I can even process it, we're already pulling away from the house.
I stare out the window, my thoughts a tangled mess. What the hell am I doing? This is something the FMCs in the books I read do-not me. I don't do this.
And yet...
The car slows, then comes to a full stop.
I blink, realizing we haven't gone far. The party is still within view, just barely, but we're parked in a quiet spot, dimly lit by the streetlights. It's private enough, but not too far.
Theo turns to me, his expression unreadable. "Is this okay?" His voice is softer now, careful.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry.
I nod quickly, maybe too quickly. "Yeah." My voice is embarrassingly breathy.
It's dark enough that he can't see how nervous I am. Thank God.
My stomach twists, anticipation curling in my veins. This is out of my limit. Completely.
But maybe I need to go a little crazy for once.
He leans back slightly, spreading his legs just enough to make room for me. His eyes don't leave mine, and the look he gives me makes my stomach somersault.
"Come here, Soph." His voice is quiet, coaxing.
I hesitate for only a second before moving, my pulse roaring in my ears.
I move to swing one leg over his lap but freeze midway, suddenly hesitating.
"What if I'm too heavy for you?" I blurt out, panic rising in my throat. "I'm quite big, you know."
Theo's expression shifts instantly. Even in the dim light, I catch the furrow of his brows, the way his lips press together in frustration.
"You are not heavy," he states firmly.
"But how can you tell?" I counter, my fingers gripping the seat as doubt creeps in.
He tilts his head slightly, and then I hear it-a low chuckle. My stomach flips at the sound.
"I know because it was easy to flip you when you were on top of me in my bedroom," he says, his voice teasing but undeniably smug.
Heat rushes to my face, my body going rigid at his words.
Theo doesn't seem fazed. If anything, he looks amused as he watches my reaction, like he knew exactly what he was doing when he said that.
"But-" I start, trying to find a way to argue, but my brain short-circuits for a second too long.
"Come here, Soph," he says again, his voice softer now. His hands rest on his thighs, waiting, patient.
I swallow hard, my pulse hammering in my ears as I finally move, swinging my leg over and settling onto his lap, my knees pressing against the seat on either side of him.
And oh.
I feel everything. The warmth of him, the solidness beneath me, the way his hands instinctively find my waist like he was always meant to hold me there.
"You okay?" His voice is quieter now, careful.
I nod, but my throat is dry. "Y-yeah."
"Stop lying to me, Soph," Theo murmurs, voice low and firm. "I don't like it."
"I'm not lying-" The words slip from my mouth, but I barely recognize my own voice. It's breathy, uneven-because in that exact moment, his hand slides down to my hip and tugs me closer against him.
My body tenses, thighs clenching involuntarily, my breath catching hard in my chest. "I... umm..."
"This is weird, right?" His whisper sends a ripple of heat down my spine. His voice has changed-it's deeper now, huskier, like it's dragging itself right across my skin.
I can't think. I can't breathe.
Then I feel his fingers trail up to my face, brushing gently over my cheek. He tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear and his touch lingers just a second too long-long enough to send a shiver racing through me.
Everything is pulsing, wired, too hot. This was supposed to be just a hug, but nothing about this feels innocent anymore. My hands hover, uncertain, aching to touch him, yet terrified of what will happen if I do.
"I know this is weird to ask but... have you ever been with a guy?" he asks, voice low and almost hesitant. "Like during high school?"
I snort before I can stop myself. "What do you think? Don't you remember the bullying?"
His jaw flexes, and I feel the shift in his grip as his hands tighten possessively at my waist. "They bullied you?" he growls, and it's not just protective-it's personal.
"Okay, calm down." I try to laugh it off, but it's nervous, shaky. "It wasn't like, full-on bullying. Just the usual high school crap. You know-the low self-esteem comments people throw at girls who won't fight back. It's over now."
I try to wave it away, try to remind him that this isn't what we should be talking about. This moment is heavy enough.
"I thought you just wanted a hug," I whisper, trying to find some kind of solid ground, some kind of air.
"So..." I slide my hands onto his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric, the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. I trail them higher, over the strong planes of his shoulders. "Are we hugging or not? Time is money."
His breathing shifts-faster, heavier. I must've done something, crossed some invisible line, because the next thing I know, he's grabbing my wrists, and in one sudden motion, he pulls me forward until our noses are touching.
"Theo..." I whisper, my chest rising and falling too fast. My voice trembles as his breath fans across my lips.
"Pretty," he murmurs, eyes locked on mine, intense and dark. His hand dips beneath the hem of my shirt but doesn't rush. It ghosts along the skin at my side, making circles so slow and deliberate I feel my entire body lean into the contact. "You're so beautiful, Soph."
"Liar," I breathe, voice cracking as I try to ground myself. But I don't even believe my own denial.
He smells like warmth and a little bit of the whiskey from earlier, and I know he's tipsy-but so am I. I can't pretend I'm not just as affected, just as drunk on him.
"You're drunk," I murmur, trying to sound firm. But my voice betrays me, quivering as I feel his fingers sliding up and down my back, slow, teasing strokes that make me press my thighs tighter, desperate to calm the ache building low in my belly.
This is leading to more than just a fucking hug.
This is him unraveling me with nothing but his touch.
And I don't think I want him to stop.
"I thought being drunk means you are free to say the truth. Hmm?" He mutters as his fingers keep moving, slow, hypnotic strokes up and down my spine. My breath stutters, body betraying me as I press just the slightest bit closer, thighs clenching against the sharp pulse of want pooling low in my stomach.
Theo notices. Of course he does. His grip tightens at my waist, and his other hand-God, when did it move?-settles on the bare skin at the small of my back. His touch is firm, possessive, fingers splaying out as if he wants to claim every inch of me.
"I like this," he murmurs, his lips so close to mine I can feel the heat of every word.
"Like what?" I whisper, my voice barely there, because I know exactly what he means, but I want to hear him say it.
"Touching you," he says simply, no hesitation, no shame. His palm drags a slow, dangerous path up my back, fingertips tracing the dip of my spine. "Feeling you like this."
I make a sound-something embarrassingly breathless and completely out of my control.
"I-" I try, but my throat is dry, and thinking is getting harder with every second. My hands tighten against his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt like I need it to stay tethered to the earth.
This isn't me. This isn't how I act. I don't get hot and bothered from a hug. But this? This is something else. This is heat curling between us, thick and suffocating. This is his hands, slow and deliberate, like he has all the time in the world to memorize my body through my clothes.
"I shouldn't be touching you like this," he murmurs, voice lower, raspier. "I should let go."
He doesn't.
Instead, his fingers skim just beneath the hem of my shirt, brushing against the sensitive skin right above my waistband. I gasp, hips jerking slightly, and he exhales a sharp breath, his forehead pressing against mine.
"Soph," he whispers, and the way he says my name is downright sinful. Low and rough, like gravel and heat. Like trouble. Like temptation."Please tell me."
My fingers dig into his shoulders, clinging to something-anything-to keep myself grounded. But it's useless. His touch has already set me ablaze, every nerve sparking like a live wire. I should pull away, take a breath, find my sanity. But my body? It's already betraying me.
"Tell you what?" I manage, my voice breathy, barely there.
His fingers flex against my waist, holding me steady. "Tell me that you want this." His eyes search mine, dark and intense. "Tell me that you want... me."
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My throat is dry, my pulse hammering against my ribs. I lick my lips without thinking, and the second his gaze drops to my mouth, he curses, low and filthy.
"Fuck," he mutters, voice raw. His jaw tightens, and I watch the way he fights himself, the way his grip on me tightens like he's trying to stop himself from doing something reckless.
I blink up at him, dazed. "What?"
"Don't do that."
"Do what?" I ask innocently, but I already know.
His eyes drop to my mouth again, and I test him-nibbling my bottom lip between my teeth, watching his reaction.
His control snaps.
"You know exactly what you're doing, Soph." His voice is rough, almost accusing, but there's something deeper in it. Hunger. Desperation. A silent plea.
Tequila. That's what I'll blame this on tomorrow. But right now? Right now, I want to feel.
"Do you want to kiss me?" I ask, the words slipping out before I can second-guess them.
I should be saving my first real kiss for someone I like. Someone I see a future with. But the idea of saving my first real kiss for the guy I like feels ridiculous now. How the hell will I know what to do when the time comes? I need practice, don't I? And Theo-Theo looks like he's one second away from devouring me whole.
He wouldn't mind... right?
"Would you want that?" His voice dips lower as he leans in, his breath ghosting over my skin. Then-his lips find my neck. A slow, burning press. "Would you like me to kiss you, love?"
A shaky breath slips out of me. My body arches, chasing the warmth of his mouth, chasing the friction I desperately need. "Y...yes."
His lips curve against my skin. "Then say it."
His mouth moves lower, finding a spot just beneath my jaw. He sucks lightly, and my entire body reacts, a strangled moan escaping me as my fingers fist into his shirt.
I feel him smirk against my neck before he presses another kiss there, firmer this time. "Tell me you want me, and I'll fucking ruin you for any other man."
My insides clench hard, the need unbearable, and before I can stop myself, my hips shift, my body seeking friction against his leg.
"I'll ruin all kisses for you, Soph. No little boy will ever measure up."
My lips part, a shaky breath trembling past them. My mind is chaos, but my body? My body knows exactly what it wants.
"I want you," I whisper, and it's the most honest thing I've said all night. My voice is trembling, raw with need. "I want you to kiss me, Theo."
The second the words leave my mouth, he groans-low and guttural-and crashes his lips to mine.
It isn't slow and It's most definitely not gentle. Just heat, raw and all-consuming. His hands clutch my waist like he's afraid I'll disappear if he lets go, and I let him take control because I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to move my lips, how to match his rhythm, how to kiss. But he does. God, he fucking does.
His mouth claims mine, his tongue sweeping in and setting my nerves on fire. My hands clutch his shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric as he angles his head, deepening the kiss. I whimper into his mouth, my body melting into his like I was made to fit against him.
I don't even realize I'm not breathing until the room tilts and my lungs scream for air. With a desperate gasp, I yank back, pressing trembling fingers to my lips. "I-I'm sorry," I stammer, my voice weak and breathless. "I- I couldn't breathe."
Theo chuckles, warm and low, his chest rising and falling just as fast as mine. "Fuck, Soph-I'm sorry too." His thumb strokes my waist, grounding me. "I got carried away."
He lifts his hand, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face, his touch softer now. "Should we stop?" His voice is husky, his lips still swollen from kissing me like he wanted to devour me whole.
I shake my head too fast, too eager. "No," I whisper, licking my lips. "I just-"
I don't finish the sentence. I just tilt my chin up and try to kiss him again.
It's a disaster.
I miss his mouth at first, bumping my nose against his. My lips land awkwardly on his upper lip, and I don't know what to do with them. I move too fast, too unsure, and it feels all wrong. Humiliation burns through me, my cheeks heating as I pull back, mortified. "I-"
He doesn't laugh.
Instead, he catches my chin between his fingers, tilting my face up until our noses brush again. His voice is a whisper against my lips, soft and coaxing. "Soph."
I freeze, barely breathing as he murmurs, "How about I kiss you slow, and you follow me, okay?"
I nod, swallowing hard. "O-okay."
Before I can even finish the word, his lips find mine again-but this time, it's different.
He moves slowly, agonizingly slow, dragging his mouth over mine in a way that makes my stomach clench. His tongue flicks out, teasing, guiding, and I copy him, mimicking the way he moves, the way he takes his time.
I feel him groan, the vibration sinking into me, making my head spin.
And then-I feel him.
Hard. Pressed between my thighs.
"You're so responsive." he mutters against my lips. "Do you know what that does to me?"
I don't answer-I can't. His hand is at my lower back, guiding me, pressing me closer, and my entire body is burning with the friction.
Every brush of his lips, every stroke of his tongue, every graze of his hand sends sparks shooting through me. It's dizzying. Consuming. I don't even remember what breathing feels like anymore.
His mouth leaves mine only to trail kisses along my jaw, down my neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make my knees wobble.
"You're not just beautiful," he murmurs. "You're dangerous. You make me lose every bit of control I have, and I don't even care."
I shudder, hands fisting in his shirt as my entire body presses into his, chasing the heat.
I never thought a kiss could feel like this. Never knew someone could touch you without even needing to remove your clothes and still leave you feeling completely undone.
Theo pulls back just enough to look at me-his chest rising and falling fast, his lips red and swollen from mine.
"Say the word, and I'll stop," he says, voice hoarse. "But if you don't... I'm going to keep kissing you like this until your legs give out."
And God help me-I want that.
"What if..." My voice comes out softer than I expect, almost hesitant. His thumb brushes over my cheek, waiting. "What if I want more?"
He stills.
His brows lift slightly, his gaze locking onto mine, searching. I can feel the heat in his stare, the way his chest rises and falls a little too fast.
But before he can say anything, I add, "Not sex-I mean, other stuff."
Something flickers in his expression, something dark and unreadable.
I swallow hard, my heart hammering against my ribs. I know sex was an option. It's always an option when things get this heated. But the last time I did it, it wasn't... good. It wasn't this.
And yeah, I know he'd make me see stars. I know Theo wouldn't rush through it or make me feel like I was just something to be conquered. But before all that-I just want him to touch me. I want to feel his hands, his mouth, his everything against me first.
"You sure?" His voice is deeper now, rougher, like he's holding something back.
I nod, exhaling shakily.
He studies me for a long moment, his fingers skating down my spine, sending shivers through me. "You won't run away the next morning? Or avoid me once this is over?"
I shake my head, letting the heat of the moment guide me.
He raises a brow, unconvinced. "Tell me, Soph. I want words."
I bite my lip, then sigh. "I won't run away or act weird." I pause before adding, "Okay, I might run... but you can catch me, right?"
His smirk is slow and devastating.
"Most definitely." Theo leans in, his breath brushing my lips before he presses the softest, laziest kiss against my mouth.
"I'll chase you till you're comfortable with it." He mutters, lips ghosting against mine.
"And when I do? I'm not letting you go."
◇◇◇
The elevator ride up had been a blur. Every second that passed since I said I want more had my heart pounding against my ribs like it was trying to break free. But even with the adrenaline coursing through me, one thing was certain-I didn't regret asking.
I wanted this.
Needed it.
And now, as Theo pushes open the door to his apartment, I feel that need pulse through me like a second heartbeat.
"Ladies first," Theo murmurs, his voice dripping with something that makes my knees feel weak.
I nod, stepping inside, but the space that's always felt familiar suddenly feels different. Charged. Like the walls themselves know what's about to happen.
I let out a shaky breath, forcing a laugh. "Okay, umm..." I start, feeling stupidly awkward now that we're actually here. "How does this work? Your room or my room? Oh wait-is this technically a one-night stand? Or am I not supposed to call it that? You know what? never mind-"
Before I can embarrass myself further, Theo's lips crash against mine, stealing the rest of my words.
A shocked moan escapes me as I find myself pinned against the cool wall, his body pressed tight against mine. His hands are firm, sliding down my sides like he's mapping me out, and heat pools between my thighs. My fingers dig into the back of his neck, needing more, needing him-but we're still wearing too many damn clothes.
"First," he murmurs between kisses, his lips moving down my jaw, trailing heat in their wake. "I want you to shut up. Can you do that for me, love?"
I nod, breathless, my fingers threading into his hair.
His mouth moves to my ear, his breath warm. "Perfect."
Then his voice drops, rough and teasing. "Now be a good girl and let me take care of you, okay?"
A shaky breath escapes me. "Oka-ah! Theo!"
My words turn into a yelp as his hands grip my hips, lifting me up like I weigh nothing. My arms fly around his neck, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.
My back arches, pressing my chest against his, and heat curls deep in my stomach. "Oh gosh, put me down, I'm too heavy!"
Theo laughs, the sound dark and amused. "You aren't. Trust me, love." His grip tightens on my thighs, fingers digging in like he likes holding me like this. "Now stop doubting yourself and let me make you feel good."
Before I can protest, his mouth crashes against mine again, swallowing whatever response I might've had.
He moves, walking us through the apartment, and I barely register the loud thud of a door-probably from him kicking it open-before I feel myself falling.
I land on something soft, my back sinking into a mattress.
I suck in a sharp breath, staring up at Theo as he looms over me, his gaze dark and heavy. His lips are slightly swollen from our kisses, his breathing uneven, and the way he's looking at me...
It makes my whole body burn.
I swallow. "Whose room are we in?"
Theo smirks, and doesn't answer right away. Instead, he shrugs off his jacket, his eyes never leaving mine as it falls to the floor.
"Does it matter?" he asks, his voice low and teasing.
I swallow hard. It really doesn't.
Especially not when he climbs onto the bed, his body settling between my legs like he belongs there. His hands trail up my thighs, slow and deliberate, and I shiver at the heat of his touch.
"You're shaking, love." His voice is softer now, almost amused. "Cold?"
"Not even a little bit."
I feel hot, burning up from the inside out.
His lips quirk up at my answer, and then he's leaning down, brushing his nose against mine. "Good. Because I plan on making you even hotter."
I barely have a second to react before his mouth finds my neck, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses against my skin.
I arch into him, my fingers tangling in his hair. "Theo..."
"Hmm?" His lips move lower, trailing down the column of my throat.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember how to breathe.
I wanted this. I was the one who asked for more.
So why does it feel like I'm going to combust just from the way he's touching me?
The night isn't too dark, but enough for me to see him clearly, especially when he moves toward the lamplight. And suddenly, panic grips me.
"Don't... Don't turn it on," I blurt out, my voice tight. He stops, his hand hovering over the switch, looking back at me.
"Why?" he asks softly, and the way his voice wraps around the word makes my chest tighten painfully.
"Because..." I hesitate. "Because I don't want the light." I want to explain that it's not about the light itself, but about him seeing me-seeing me in a way I'm not ready for. I don't want him to look at me and realize I'm not the type of girl he usually sleeps with. But I don't say that. I can't.
"Because?" He repeats, his voice low. I can see him getting closer to me, like he's trying to understand.
I sit up a little, trying to find the words, but they feel so wrong on my tongue and so he uses my silence to speak once more.
"Are you regretting already? You can tell me. I promise I won't be upset." he says and I almost glare at him.
God, stop being so sweet. I don't want sweet right now. I don't want words, I want action.
"I just don't want the light. Is that not enough reason?" I sigh, frustrated with myself. I can't even express what's really going on inside me. I just want to feel him, feel him now.
He pauses, his hands still on me, his warmth radiating through every inch of my skin. "It's not, but I'll respect your choice," he says, his fingers tracing down my sides, over my waist, slipping under the hem of my shirt. My stomach tightens at his touch, and I can't help but shiver under his hands.
His touch is slow and deliberate. I feel him pulling back just enough to see my reaction. "So, what would you like me to do to you? You said other stuff, right? Tell me, what stuff do you want?"
My face flushes, my thoughts scatter. I want to scream out what I'm feeling, but I can't bring myself to say it. The ache between my legs has been there since I first sat on him, since the moment we touched, and it's only getting worse.
I shift uncomfortably, not sure how to ask for what I need. "I... I would like you to touch me."
The words leave my mouth in a whisper, but I know they're the only words that matter right now.
"Where?" he asks, his voice low, amused, as though he's savoring every bit of my hesitation. The heat in his eyes only intensifies. "Tell me where you want me to touch you, Soph."
My breath catches in my throat, the words stuck behind my teeth. I want him to just do it, to take control, but I can't bring myself to say it out loud. I feel exposed, vulnerable, and the last thing I want is to seem desperate... even though I am.
"I-I don't know..." My voice falters, but the ache between my legs is undeniable. Every nerve in my body is on edge, desperate for him to just make a move.
He leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispers, "You don't know?" His breath sends a shiver through my spine, and I instinctively shift, trying to get closer to him, needing to feel his touch.
His hand moves again, but this time, it's slow, deliberate, like he's savoring every inch of me. "Tell me, Soph. Tell me what you want."
I clench my hands around the sheets, my body aching, begging for more. "Between my legs," I finally admit, my voice barely above a whisper, but the rawness in it makes me want to pull away and bury myself under the covers.
But I don't. I can't. I want this, want him, and I'm not going to deny it anymore.
He breathes a soft laugh, his fingers grazing dangerously close to where I need him. "There?" he asks, as though he's testing me, making sure I'm certain. "Are you sure that's what you want?"
I nod quickly, the intensity of my need making my chest tighten with frustration.
"Fine," he says, lips brushing my ear, "but how do I touch you when you're still in your jeans?"
I don't waste another second.
Fumbling a little, I slide my jeans down my legs, letting them hit the floor. My top comes off next, and now I'm left in nothing but my bra and underwear. My chest rises and falls fast-I've never felt this exposed before, not like this. But I don't regret it. Not for a second.
Before I can even think about the vulnerability of the moment, I feel him-a warm breath, his lips pressing lightly against the exposed skin of my thigh. My body locks up at the tenderness. Another kiss. And then another-higher, softer, lingering.
"Ugh... Theo," I whisper, my voice a mix of longing and frustration. His name feels like it's both a plea and a command in my mouth.
He doesn't answer right away. His mouth travels up to my stomach, and at the same time, his hand presses gently on my torso, guiding me back onto the bed until I'm lying flat beneath him.
"I want you to enjoy this, okay?" His voice is low, reverent almost, like he's worshipping every part of me already.
His hands slide over my thighs, slow and confident, and then he's pushing my legs apart with a kind of care that makes my pulse spike.
"If you don't feel comfortable, tell me," he says again, meeting my eyes. "Am I clear?"
I nod quickly, but he tilts his head.
"Words, Soph."
"Yes," I breathe, sucking in a good amount of air, trying to steady myself.
"Good," he murmurs with a smirk, his mouth moving closer to where I need him most. "Now let me make you feel so fucking good, love."