Kiss My Boots (Coming Home #2)

Tate laughs, his body still moving against mine, the delicious friction consuming my mind.

“Bet I can make you forget,” he vows, lifting his ass in the air and pulling his hard, thick heat away. His bottom lip rolls in and he bites his teeth on top of it. God, that’s so sexy. He looks down our bodies, and I’m still so stuck on why biting his lip was enough to cause a new rush of wetness between my legs that I don’t notice him moving until he’s pushing his thickness deep inside me with one long, powerful thrust.

I scream out his name, slap my hands against his strong back, and dig my nails in. My legs go up, toes curling, and I would swear to anyone that asked, angels sung in that moment.

He flexes his ass and goes even deeper.

“I can feel you everywhere,” I gasp. My gasp turns into a high-pitched yelp when he rolls—keeping us connected—and from his position, now with his back to the bed, gives a thrust of his hips, causing me to feel him so deep I’m thinking I might actually have to make a real appointment with Gladys to get some internal organs checked out for bruising.

He slaps my ass playfully and smirks at me from the pillow. “Show me what you got, cowgirl.”

Oh, God. I clench involuntarily, so turned on it isn’t even funny.

My palms go to his chest, and I flex my fingers, scraping my nails against his skin. He lets out a hiss when I drag them across his nipples.

Then I dig my knees into the bed and start riding.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, using his hands on my hips to help me move when my legs start shaking, till hitting a part so deep inside me I feel like I’m being split into two glorious pieces. “Squeeze my cock, Quinn. Show me how much you love it.”

“I do,” I pant. “I do love it.”

Crack. His hand against my ass makes me yelp. “Reach down and get yourself there, Quinn. Not gonna make it much longer with you grippin’ me so tight with your pussy. Get yourself there so I can fill you up, baby.”

His gravelly voice sets my body on fire almost as much as the part of him I’m riding. I pick up my speed, move one hand to my clit, and start rocking against him. It only takes me a few thrusts against his body before I’m tossing my head back and screaming his name into the darkness.

“God, Tate! So good.” I fall on top of him, completely worthless to do anything more.

“Arghh, Quinn,” he breathes, and I feel the hot splash of him inside me while he twitches under my body.

Long moments later, when both of our breathing has returned to normal and my head feels better, he shifts. I feel him brush my hair aside: I guess he just spent the last few minutes breathing through a face full of it. He kisses my temple, and I hear him breathe me in.

“Remind me to take you dancin’ more often.”

I giggle, which makes him moan. I feel his still-hard cock twitch inside me.

“Thank you for today,” I whisper, lifting up to look down at him, my hands on the mattress on either side of his face. He looks adorably confused, so I smile and continue. “For givin’ me your support while I talked to Clay. You didn’t even say a word, but all it took was your hand in mine and I felt it. I wasn’t even sure I would be able to get all that out with him until I felt that, and I just want you to know that it means a lot.”

“That’s not somethin’ you need to thank me for, darlin’. Any battle you go into, even if it’s just a mental one, is one I’m gonna be by your side for.”

“Then how about this,” I start. “Thank you for comin’ back to me.”

He jolts under me and slides from my body. I whimper when I lose that fullness, and he twists us so that we’re both on our sides and wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. His heart pounds against my ear.

“God, baby, you damn sure don’t need to thank me for that. You’ve given me another chance, when I thought I’d lost it forever. You let me in and gave me back the only thing that ever felt like home to me—you—you give me all that, and you’re thankin’ me?” he questions in disbelief.

I snuggle into his tight embrace and smile against his warm skin.

Home.

That night, with his arms never leaving me, I fall asleep dreaming of waterfalls and a home built with pure love that nothing in the whole world could ever tear down.

I’d always thought home was a place, but he’s right: our home is right here, in each other’s arms.





23


TATE


“Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles

- -

“What’s got you so quiet over there?” I ask Quinn, looking over from the passenger seat of Paw’s old F1.

Quinn’s eyes have a faraway look to them, her face more downcast than usual. “I’m just a little sad about startin’ him up. It seems like forever ago you called about him and that’s all it took to throw my whole world for a loop. I’m not sure I’m ready to say good-bye to the beast that helped bring us back together. Every time I walk into the shop and see him sittin’ there, waitin’ for me to come crawl under him and mess with his body, I get a sense of pride in not just him—but because really, he’s kind of . . . us.”

“I find it oddly sexy when you talk about workin’ on trucks like that,” I drawl, twirling a long piece of her hair around my finger.

She rolls her eyes and looks over at me. “I’m serious.”

“I know, Grease. I wasn’t tryin’ to devalue your feelin’s. Bad timin’ to bring it up. How do you figure this old thing is us?”

Her face grows serious, and I’m not sure if I should brace myself for what she has to say or not.

“Think about it, Tate. You had this thing delivered to me a broken, rusty, sad shell of the beauty he used to be. Everyone would have counted him out and taken one look at him, immediately assumin’ that he would never be set to rights again. That he was a lost cause or somethin’. All he needed, though, was the right touch and someone determined to get him back to what he used to be. With a little hard work, sweat, tears, and maybe a little blood—he’s lookin’ better than he probably ever did, even when he was first made. He’s . . . us.”

I blow out a breath and study her face, her words tumbling around in my mind, making a whole lot of sense when she puts it that way.

“No one woulda thought we would get a second chance, Tate. Not even us. That’s how much of a lost cause we were,” she continues, her voice lower as she shifts in her seat to look at me better. “Even though we both would have given anything to have each other back, there were just too many broken pieces, rusty unused parts, and the broken shell of what we were. Situations changed and you—thank God—were determined even without knowin’ for sure what you’d get when you got back to Pine Oak. Together, we had the right things drivin’ us toward bein’ a better version of what we once were. You and me, we’re Homer and Bertha. The two wouldn’t be what they are now without the other.”