You’re halfway out of your old clothes, tugging your shirt over your head, when the door suddenly swings open.

Theo steps in—and stops dead.

His eyes lock onto you instantly, surprise flashing across his face before it melts into something slower, warmer. He hadn’t expected this. You, standing there in nothing but half-removed clothes, caught completely off guard.

“Theo!” you yelp, scrambling to pull your shirt back down over yourself. Your heart jumps into your throat. “You scared me!”

He doesn’t apologize. Instead, his gaze drifts—unhurried, shameless—from your face down and back up again. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“You should’ve locked the door, bella,” he says smoothly.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. “You could’ve knocked.”

He lets out a low chuckle, leaning one shoulder casually against the doorframe like he has all the time in the world. “Where’s the fun in that?” His voice drops, teasing and unbothered, and the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to steady your breathing.

“Theo, seriously. Get out.”

Instead of listening, he pushes off the door and takes a slow step closer. The air feels tighter somehow.

“I’ll leave when I’m ready,” he replies softly, his tone light but deliberate.

You swallow, gripping your shirt a little tighter, trying to ignore the way your pulse betrays you.

He tilts his head slightly, eyes dark with amusement. “But don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this.”