I looked down at his face which I couldn’t really see since he was looking at my breasts in my bra, watching his hands move forward along my bra line and cup them.
One could say Tate and my sex life was regular, healthy and active but since Neeta died Tate gave new meaning to regular, healthy and active. If we weren’t looking after Jonas or I wasn’t working, Tate had me as close as he could get me, literally.
I didn’t know if he was proving to himself I was alive, he was alive or he was determined to suck as much out of life in general as he could get but I didn’t question it or him. If that was what he needed, which it obviously was, that was what I’d give to him.
Therefore, I whispered, “Okay,” but I did it beginning to get worried about his state of mind. He’d stayed strong for Jonas and he seemed okay but this behavior concerned me. I didn’t mind the intimacy; I was just troubled at his driving need for it.
His hands moved back, pushed in so my back arched and his lips trailed the lace at the cup of my bra.
One of my hands slid into his hair while the other one glided down his neck.
“Mom and Dad are staying a week,” I told him.
“Yeah,” he said against my skin, his lips moving between my cleavage then mounting the swell of my other breast.
“Carrie and Mack have to leave Sunday,” I went on.
“Yeah,” Tate repeated, one hand moving down my back so his fingers could trail the lace that rode high on the cheek of my bottom, the other hand slid forward, his thumb under his lips gliding across my nipple.
This felt good so I sucked in breath and fidgeted in his lap.
“Tate, baby, you okay?” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he said yet again, his thumb catching the lace at my breast and pulling it down.
“Baby –” I started and stopped, my breath hitching when he drew my nipple in deep. My hips rolled against his lap and my head fell back.
His mouth detached from my nipple and traced up my chest, his hand at my bottom drifting up to glide into my hair and pull my head down so he could kiss me, wet, slow and sweet, while the pad of his thumb tormented my hard nipple.
When his mouth detached from mine, my lips moved along his cheek to his ear, I tried to pull it together and asked softly, “What’s on your mind?”
“Tryin’ to figure out how to fuck you while you’re wearin’ these panties,” he answered.
I was pretty certain that was what was actually on his mind but still, my head came up, both my hands went to his jaws and I whispered, “Baby, talk to me.”
His eyes looked into mine and his hand in my hair pulled me down to touch his lips to mine then he let me move away half an inch before he said, “Laurie, I’m good.”
“I’m worried about you,” I was still whispering.
“Baby, I’m good,” he repeated.
“You’ve changed,” I told him and quickly went on. “It isn’t a bad change, I’m just… concerned.”
“Yeah, babe, I’ve changed,” he surprisingly agreed.
I dropped my forehead to his. “Talk to me about it.”
He sighed and fell to his back. I followed him down, planting my forearms in his chest, my hands flattening there as his hands cupped my behind.
His eyes caught mine and he announced, “I’m over it.”
My head tipped to the side. “Sorry?”
“I’m over it,” he repeated.
“But –”
“This sucks, all of it. But I was way over her when I started it with you. I don’t like Pop, Stell, Wood and definitely Jonas bein’ on their path but, Ace, I ain’t suffering.”
“But earlier –”
“Today was shit, babe, and I can’t say it doesn’t hit me, that ugly end to her livin’ an ugly life but, outside of keepin’ an eye on Jonas and my Mom actin’ whacked, today, mostly I was struggling with the fact that I’m not suffering.”
One of my hands slid up to curl around his neck and I whispered, “But Tate, you… with me… we –”
“Life hands you lessons, Ace, this one taught me to enjoy what I got. My Dad died and I didn’t learn shit from that at the time, didn’t learn until it was almost too late. This time, Neet dyin’, ‘specially like that, I learned quick.” His hand slid up my spine and into my hair. “I’m happy, Laurie. This is good, what we got, and I’m gonna fuckin’ enjoy it.”
“So you don’t want me close, um… sex close to be, uh… super close to prove to yourself that I’m here and I’m okay?”
His brows knitted while I spoke and when I was done he asked, “Sex close?
“We’re having a lot of sex, Captain.”
“We have a lot of sex all the time, Ace.”
“You said, the day she died, you needed me and you wanted me close,” I reminded him.
“It was fresh then,” he told me.
I tipped my head to the side. “So you’re okay now?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not, um… dealing with death in a macho man, badass, alpha male kind of way?”
He pressed his lips together, his expression softening and then he said, “No.”
“You’re sure?” I pushed.
“Ace, I’m okay.”
“Yeah?”