Kiss My Boots (Coming Home #2)

“Christ, Quinn, I thought you knew what was goin’ on here.”

“I do!” I yell, calming down when he looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “I mean, of course I know what’s going on here, but I think we’ve left out some important things. Are we, I don’t know . . . exclusive while we get to know each other again? I mean, I know what you’ve said you want and all, but you’ve never actually said you wanted to be exclusive. So I think it’s a valid question.”

I snap my mouth shut, the verbal vomit just floating in the air between us, my eyes wide and freaked the hell out.

“Where is this comin’ from, darlin’?” he asks, low and carefully.

“So far, in two days, you’ve managed to work your way back into my life all the while erasin’ the pain I had held close. In that time, you’ve also held private meetin’s with my brothers, which screams that we’re a whole lot more serious than just gettin’ to know each other again, Tate. That screams that you’re in a place way past gettin’ to know someone. You won’t tell me what y’all talked about. They won’t say anything. Meanwhile, I’m over here wonderin’ if you’re ever gonna grow a pair and get on with it and break my hooha!”

His eyes bug out, probably mirroring mine—only I’m guessin’ his aren’t wide as hell, because he isn’t the one who’s mortified. Nope, that’s all me. My mouth just won’t shut the hell up today, it seems.

“Uh,” he mumbles, turning so that his arm isn’t over my shoulders holding me close to his side. My stomach drops and my eyes fix on to the coffee table. He shifts, turning so that one leg is curled between us, allowing him to turn his body to face me. Then he grabs my hands and dips his head to force me to look at him. “Not that I really understood all of that, but you know if you do break your . . . uh, hooha, that’s somethin’ I feel confident that I’m able to fix, right?”

Jesus Jones. I bet my face is so bright red right now it would glow in the dark. “Can you just forget that part?”

He chuckles. “Not a fuckin’ chance, Grease.”

“I didn’t think so,” I mumble, unable to look away from him even if my mind is screaming for me to.

“Your brothers just want to look out for you, Quinn. I took the time to let them know what my father did because I felt that was somethin’ they deserved to know, seein’ as it had to do with them too, in a way. Trust me when I tell you that there isn’t anything we’re keepin’ from you. The three of us, we’re on the same page when it comes to you, darlin’.”

“And what page is that?”

“The one where they stop worryin’ about you and I start lovin’ you.”

My breath stills in my throat.

“One day at a time, Quinn. One day at a time.”

I still can’t move. His words ricochet through my body, hitting every single nerve ending and zapping them into awareness before settling into my heart and waking it up completely after one long hibernation. Something clicks inside me in that moment, and I need to trust this between us completely. He wouldn’t be going above and beyond to prove to me that he’s here to stay—with and for me—if he didn’t mean it.

“Get over here, let me hold you and watch the damn movie, Quinn. Let your man hold you and give yourself some time to really hear what your body is tellin’ you when you’re in my arms.”

Oh. God.

Do I argue? Nope. Hell, no. That hell-raising badass inside me is already trying to lunge out of my body and curl against him, purring like a slut.

And I like it.

No. I love it.

- -

“What?” I sleepily mumble, trying to muster up enough energy to give a damn that I’m floating, only failing.

“Hush, baby. Movie’s long over. It’s late and we both fell asleep. Just takin’ you to bed,” Tate whispers in the darkness.

“’Kay.” I curl into his embrace, knowing his strong arms will carry me without fail as I feel my body being lifted.

The only sound I hear is that of his sock-covered feet walking up the stairs and I feel myself drifting. I try to wake up, but the soothing effect of his heartbeat against my ear mingling with the slow rise of his chest as he breathes is making me slip into a powerful spell of contentment. Just like that, I’m helpless to remain conscious and I fall dead asleep with a smile on my lips.

- -

Nine Years Ago—End of the Summer

“I don’t want this summer to end,” I whisper, curling into Tate’s naked body. “I feel like this one just started and now I have to say good-bye to you.”

His chest moves as he laughs under his breath. “Darlin’, we’ve done it for the past seven years. What makes the end of this summer different, when I’ve always come back to you?”

“It’s hardly the same! Every summer since we were eleven you’d leave and it would kill me inside knowin’ I wouldn’t see you again for ten whole months, Tate. It killed me then, and that was before I knew what it felt like to have the boy I love inside my body.”

I feel my chin wobble and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying like a child.

“Look at me, baby,” he demands softly.

“I can’t,” I whine shamelessly.

“Now, Quinn. Look at me.”

I make a big show of turning, hoping to buy myself some time to kick this vulnerable feeling out of my head. He shifts with me until we’re lying face-to-face in his bed. I feel the thick velvet heat of his erection as it presses against my stomach, hard and ready even though we just finished making love not ten minutes ago. I move closer, my nipples rubbing against his smooth chest, and moan a little, making the hardness at my stomach jump.

“Stop,” he says, his jaw clenching when I rub against him again.

“I can’t help it. I like the way your skin feels against mine.”

“So do I, obviously, but darlin’ I need you to hear me.”

“I hear you,” I defend, lifting my leg over his hip and shifting until the part of him I want to feel back between my legs is sliding against my wet pussy.

“Fuck,” he hisses, reaching one hand up and grabbing my hips to prevent me from taking him inside my body. “Don’t. Move.”

His chest is heaving. His handsome face is pulled tight with a frown and pinched lips. God, he’s perfect.