I knew I didn’t want you.
My father’s voice echoed from a distant island in my head, and I hesitated.
But Tate looked at me and ran a hand down my face, making me melt into her touch.
I closed my eyes.
Happiness, heaven, euphoria—I had no idea what state I was in, but it was new, and it was true.
Fuck you, Dad.
Ripping the condom from its wrapper, I slid it on and shoved my motherfucking father a million miles away from me.
“I love you,” I whispered, and lifting her knee up, I slid inside of her.
“
Ahhh
…” Her body shook, and she gasped, hard and fast. I stilled, feeling a rush of warmth spread over my body.
Tate.
She really was a virgin.
My head spun at the idea of causing her pain, but fuck if it didn’t turn me on, too.
She was mine now.
I didn’t budge any further, but I pushed myself up on my hands to look down at her.
Her palms were braced on my chest, and raindrops glistened on her breasts as I watched her breathing slow down.
Her eyes squinted a little as she took in the pain, but she didn’t cry out.
I was throbbing so hard. I needed to get inside of her, but I damn well gave a fuck about Tate, and I wasn’t just going to take her. I wanted her coming back for seconds, thirds, and forever.
“Are you okay?” I asked quietly, hoping like hell she wasn’t reconsidering and thinking of pulling away from me.
“I’m good,” she breathed out and nodded. “Don’t stop, but go slow.”
And I didn’t need to be told twice.
Slowly, and with my nerves heating up at every inch I took, I sunk into her beautiful body until I was buried.
Fucking heaven.
I let out a breath, dying and coming alive again in her tight, wet heat.
She quivered, and her breathing turned shallow for a few seconds, but I knew when the pain was gone.
“Damn.” My muscles tensed, and I shut my eyes, feeling her soft and hot from the inside. “You feel so good. Perfect.”
I stayed, hovering over her, pulling out and then sinking back in, time and again. My body screamed, ached, and moaned for more.
After a minute or two, she grabbed my waist and started guiding her body into a rhythm with mine. Her hips moved in little circles, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was dancing. Lying down and moving like a sweet dream, her body arching and flowing against mine.
She reached up and took my face in her hands, pulling me down to her lips.
Jesus Christ.
The taste of her—the fucking taste of her—was everywhere. The rain and sweat on her lips, her heat on my cock…everywhere. Tate nibbled my lips as she grinded against me like she couldn’t get close enough.
I squeezed my eyes shut and attacked her mouth like it was a fucking feast.
Hell, yes.
Pulling back, she panted against my lips. “I feel you everywhere,” she taunted, and I groaned.
“Don’t talk like that, baby. I’ll be done too soon.”
Forehead to forehead, I looked down at her wet, hot body fucking me as I fucked her, and I couldn’t even remember the sound of my father’s voice anymore.
I took her sweet breast in my mouth, sucking the nipple hard, and felt her body quake underneath mine as our hips came together again and again. I sank into her, and she moaned.
Faster. Harder. More. And again.
Her breathing hitched and then stopped altogether.
I looked up and saw her eyebrows pinched together, and her mouth not taking in air. Her storm-filled orbs were the sweetest blend of pleasure and pain caught in the most perfect, raw moment I’d ever seen in my life.
She was coming.
After a second or two, she let out a long, sweet moan, and closed her eyes completely. I felt her body clench and unclench, leaving me ready to let go, too.
I kissed her gently, but she didn’t return it. Her eyes were still squeezed shut, and she quivered. She was still coming.
After a few more thrusts, I exploded inside of her with shivers of pleasure rocking between my legs and spreading through my thighs and stomach.
I gasped out, my head light and my chest surging with heat.
Jesus Christ.
I sucked in breath after breath, jerking into her a couple more times.
More.
I just wanted to rip off the condom, slip on another, and go again.
Damn.
I couldn’t help the smile that broke out as I kissed her and thought of the irony.
I used to keep her up late watching scary movies, and after all this time, nothing had really changed.
Her ass still wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.
I dropped off our wet clothes in the kitchen and came back with two gray towels from her bathroom. I wrapped one around my waist and draped the other over her as I laid back down on the chaise.
“Aren’t we going inside?” She clutched the towel to her chest, making sure the important parts were covered.
“Are you cold?” I asked mischievously as I dipped my head into her neck and rested my hand between her legs. “All part of my plan to warm you up again.”
Wrapping her fingers around my hand, she wasn’t really trying to pull me away. “Stop,” she begged pathetically.
“Are you trying to tell me no?” I teased and slipped a finger inside of her.
She gasped, and her body jerked ever so slightly. Instead of her hands trying to stop me now, they instantly reached down pushing my hand harder into her.
Her lips grazed my chest. “I always wanted you, Jared. Even at twelve, I wanted you to kiss me.”
It damn-well should’ve been me who gave her her first kiss. And her only kisses.
“Thank you for what you gave me tonight.” I groaned at how wet she was, and I felt myself swell up and get heavy.
“I wish I’d been your first. You’ve had a lot of girls, haven’t you?” Her voice held a hint of sadness, and I averted my eyes.
Yeah, I definitely didn’t want to talk about this.
“More than I should’ve.” I stuck to the easy answer.
Their names? Gone.
Their faces? Forgotten.
I loved Tate, and nothing was better than making love to someone I actually loved.
I dipped down to kiss her, but she pulled away and looked at me hard.
“I need to know, Jared,” she urged gently.
“Need to know what?” I shrugged it off, but dread crept into my chest anyway.
What was she doing?
Sitting up, she pulled the towel tighter around her body. “I’m assuming most of your past girlfriends go to our school, right? I want to know who they are.” She nodded at me, wide-eyed, like I was supposed to expect this or something.
“Tate.” I rubbed her leg. “They weren’t my girlfriends. I don’t have girlfriends.”
Her face contorted in a mixture of surprise, confusion, and a whole hell of a lot of pissed off, and I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes.
Idiot.
“What?” she yelled, and I cringed. “Then what am I?”
Yep. I’m a big bucket of stupid idiot.
But before I could do damage control, Tate sprang off the lounge, stomped across the patio and through the back door, fixing the towel around her as she went.
“Tate!”
Dammit!
I chased after her and barged through the open door.
“Baby, that’s not what I meant,” I quickly shot out when I saw her standing across the kitchen with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Don’t call me, baby. If I’m not your girlfriend, I’m definitely not “‘baby.’”
I ran my hand down my face. “Girlfriend isn’t enough to describe you, Tate. That term is disposable. You’re not my girlfriend, my girl, or my woman. You’re. Just. Mine,” I bit out every syllable, so she would fucking understand. “And I’m yours,” I added, a little calmer.
She took a breath, calming down. “Jared, you have to tell me which ones.”
I let out a bitter, ragged laugh. “Why? So you can get upset every time you see one of them?”
“I’m more mature than that,” she snarled. “Give me a little credit. This isn’t even about them. It’s about you owning up.”
What the fuck?
“I told you about my whole fucking past!” I threw my hands up in the air. “What more do you want?”
“I want to know everything! I don’t want to walk down the halls at school and unknowingly make eye contact with five different girls you’ve screwed!” she yelled, her eyes hot and fierce.
“None of it matters!” I tightened the towel around my waist and looked at her over the center island that stood between us. “I just made love to you. To you. And it will only ever be you again!”
I mean, what the hell did she want, anyway? I couldn’t go back and change anything I’d done, and it made no sense to relive any of that shit. She was my future, and I didn’t want her knowing all of that ugliness.
Would I be obsessed over guys that touched her? Yes, goddammit! Which was why I didn’t ask.
“I don’t like being in the dark, Jared.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts further over the top of the towel. “It’s a lot to ask of me, knowing I share a school with these girls. I want to know who, where, and what you’ve done. You got off easy. You know it’s only been you for me. They don’t need to look at me with smug grins knowing they’ve had what’s mine. And I want to know about K.C, too,” she added.
That’s what this was about.
And fuck me, I couldn’t help but smile. “You’re jealous.”
Did she think I even noticed K.C. like that? Or even saw those other girls the way I see her? It was always her face. Since I was ten years old, I only ever saw her.
She lifted her chin, looking resolute like I was about to be sent to my room for misbehaving. “Leave. And don’t come back until you can man up,” she said calmly.
And she spun around, her wet hair clinging to her back, and walked down the hall towards the stairs.
Leave?
There were at least ten different things I still wanted to do to her tonight, and she wanted me gone?
Fury burned in my stomach, making my blood boil, and I was ready to pick a serious fucking fight. I’d already spilled my guts about my brother, my father, and my whole stupid sob story. I’d talked about shit I didn’t want to, because I loved her and wanted her to know that she could trust me.
But I was done being pushed around for one night.
Catching her by the arm, I pulled her up against me and, lifting her off her feet, carried her back into the kitchen.
She tried to wiggle free. “Let go of me.”
Putting her down in front of me, I backed her up against the kitchen table and hovered down over her. “I’ve been playing games with you for three years, Tatum. You don’t get to run away anymore.”
Her eyes sharpened, and she sucked in an angry breath. “Tatum?” she asked, getting in my face.
She knew I only called her “Tatum” when I was trying to be condescending. Like parents calling you by your full name when they’re mad.
But I wasn’t mad or trying to be condescending. I was kind of getting off on her anger, actually.
And whether I liked it or not, my cock kept getting harder the more we faced off. It was like electricity shooting to my groin, seeing Tate turn fierce.
Goddamn.
She was beautiful.
Her eyes were sharp, and she breathed hard through her mouth. She looked furious and hot, and I had no idea if she was going to hit me or screw me. I only knew that both would be violent.
Leaning in, close enough to kiss her, I raised my right hand and ran my fingertips down her face. Her breath shook against my lips as I whispered to her.
“You want to know everything? Then let me show you. Turn around, and bend over.”
Her eyes went as big as planets. “Wha-What?” she stammered breathlessly.
I met her stare, feeling the intensity and urgency to understand.
“You’re not scared, are you?” And the corners of my mouth lifted when she scowled. “Come on, Tate. Trust me. You want to know everything, don’t you?”
Her face was pinched tight, and her eyes darted from side to side.
She turned around slowly, and relief flooded me. Her back was to me, and she stood there waiting for what she probably thought was going to be some twisted violation of her body.
But I knew she loved me.
She didn’t know me anymore. Not really. For all she knew, I could have a kid somewhere, and I might be selling drugs on the weekends instead of visiting my father and brother. She was taking a leap of faith, because she cared.
Reaching around in front of her, I slid the towel—her only clothing—off of her gorgeous body and let it fall to the floor. I stepped back a little to look at her. Not part of the plan, but I couldn’t help it.
Brave as always, Tate stood there, not trying to cover herself and ready to take whatever bullshit she was probably sure I had up my sleeve. But I could still tell that she was nervous. Her breaths were shallow, and her body was stiff.
Stepping back up to her with my chest rubbing against her back, I wrapped my fingers around her wrists and brought her arms up across her breasts. My arms crossed her chest, too, and I held her fragile, little frame, loving how easily she fit.