I couldn’t fucking take it anymore. It could’ve been the heels, her body, or the way she blew my mind just being herself, but I was done for.
Grabbing the condom, I tore open the wrapper and slipped the sucker on, not taking an eye off of her.
Pulling her close, I crushed her body with mine, feeling her hot, naked skin melting into mine.
She broke contact and whispered in my ear. “My turn.”
What?
My eyes widened, not sure what she meant until she pushed my back on the bed and came down to straddle on top of me.
My dick was pressed to her warm, wet opening, and I squeezed her hips, almost growling.
“You’re perfect. Perfect for me,” I said, feeling the soft, sexy skin in my hands.
Goddammit, I needed her. Now.
Her blonde hair spilled around her, and she was an animal, looking at me like she knew exactly how to kill me.
Lifting up, she slowly came down as I guided my cock inside of her. She was so small that we needed help, and I had no problem with that.
Pleasure swept over me like a wave of heat as I laid back and felt her warmth coat me. I put a hand on her breast and another on her hip, touching and guiding.
“Tell me you like it, Tate.” I had to know that she loved this. That she was going to come back for more.
That she was my girlfriend.
I never wanted to give anyone that title, because I thought I wouldn’t be able to make the commitment.
That wasn’t it.
I already had a girlfriend. All along, even though we were enemies, no one could take Tate’s place.
Tell me, baby. Say it.
“I…” she gasped as she moved her hips in a wild, you-better-do-that-all-damn-night motion that had me breathing hard.
I jerked my hips up, pushing deeper inside of her. “Say it.”
Her eyebrows pinched together in the good kind of pain as she stumbled over the words. “I love it.” She smiled. “I love it with you.”
I shot up and wrapped my arms around her back and buried my face in her chest, taking a firm breast in my mouth.
“You taste like candy,” I whispered against her skin as I dragged out a nipple between my teeth. “You’re not getting any fucking sleep tonight, Tatum Brandt. You know that, right?”
“Do you?” she shot back, taking my face in her hands.
Such a handful.
“There’s something I didn’t tell you last week when…when we were in your room.”
We laid underneath the covers, naked and happily exhausted, staring up at the ceiling.
I caressed her arm as she rested her head under my chin.
I didn’t want to disturb this perfect calm, but it was time.
Telling the truth is like lying. Once you do it, it becomes easier.
“What?” Her voice was raspy, and I didn’t know if it was a lion ripping at my stomach or a rhino stomping around my chest, but I was nervous.
“I left my brother at my dad’s house. I ran out of there without him,” I confessed.
She arched her neck back to peer up at me. “Jared, I know. You told me that part. That you tried to get him to leave, but he wouldn’t.”
I nodded. “I didn’t tell you everything, though. The day I ran out, my father had forced me into the basement to help my brother. With what, I didn’t know, but when I got down there, I saw…” The bile started forcing its way up my throat, so I concentrated on my breathing. “I saw my dad’s girlfriend and his friend dead on the basement floor.”
She popped up and stared down at me with pinched eyebrows. “Dead?”
“Come back here.” I pulled her back down, but she propped up her arm in the bed and rested her head on her balled up fist instead.
I guess she wanted eye contact.
“Yeah, as far as I could tell with the fucking distance I kept. Jax was sitting against the far wall, holding his knees against his chest and staring at nothing. He didn’t look scared or angry, just like he was a little confused or something.” I narrowed my eyes, trying to imagine what could have been going through his head.
“How do you know they were dead?” she asked softly and swallowed.
“There was blood. They weren’t moving.” I shook the images from my head. “Anyway, I couldn’t get Jax to wake up, so to speak. He just sat there and would only say that he was fine, and that we had to clean up the mess. It was like he didn’t even know it was me in the room.”
Tate looked at me, concern in her eyes, and I hoped she understood.
“You feel guilty.” She figured me out.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “It was unbearable, being in that house. Being in that basement. Why wouldn’t he come with me?” I asked more to myself than Tate.
“Have you asked him?”
“Once.” I caressed her hair. “He doesn’t remember, he says.”
“What do you think happened down there?” She asked the question I’d been asking myself for years. My father wasn’t arrested for murder. I don’t even know if the police found bodies when I got home and reported my brother’s abuse.
I thought for a minute, afraid to admit out loud what I knew was ridiculous to suspect.
“I think two lowlifes got exactly what they deserved.”