Sweet Dreams
Page 48
I put my hands on his shoulders and exerted pressure.
“We need to get breakfast,” I whispered.
His head was coming toward me. “After I kiss you.”
“Tate,” I was still whispering.
He kissed me, I slid out of my mind and into my body. By the time he was done I was all about my body.
So was Tate. “Don’t cover up, baby,” he muttered against my mouth. “I like the view.”
“I’m –”
“I like it.”
“But –”
His hand slid over one cheek of my bottom and he pulled my h*ps deeper into his.
“Babe, spent a month thinkin’ about this moment, when you’d be mine and this was what I could look forward to. Don’t hide it from me.”
In complete shock at his words, I stared into his eyes. “You spent a month thinking about this moment?” I repeated.
“Actually, no,” he answered. “Spent a month thinkin’ about what I did to you in bed,” he smiled, “and the shower.” His smile got so sexy my fingers curled into his shoulders. “And what I’m gonna do to you later. Seein’ you in sexy underwear was just bonus footage.”
I had no reply to this. I couldn’t even process this. All I could do was stand in his arms, my body pressed to his, and gaze in his eyes.
“You gonna stand there lookin’ at me, kiss me or get ready?” he asked.
“Get ready,” I answered softly but didn’t move and I didn’t move mainly because I was thinking I preferred option two (but option one of just staring at him had its merits).
He grinned. “Babe.”
“What?”
He let me go but his hand didn’t leave my ass. It stayed there so it could push me toward the bathroom.
I grabbed my stuff as I went and camped out in the bathroom, wiping the mirror and starting to get ready. I’d pulled a comb through my hair, put on a white headband, washed my face, brushed and flossed my teeth, moisturized and I was preparing for minimal makeup when Tate walked in, still in his towel, and he brushed his teeth standing next to me.
This was when I came fully back into my mind, in fact, I came speeding into it at Mach Three.
How on earth was I standing in my new sage green satin and taupe lace underwear in a bathroom in a Marriott in Indianapolis with Tatum Jackson?
My blush brush arrested in mid-air and I turned woodenly to him.
“How did this happen?” I asked.
He took his toothbrush out of his mouth and with a mouth full of white foam, he asked, “What?” then kept brushing.
I swirled my blush brush in the air indicating the entirety of our situation with a flourish.
He turned to the sink, put a palm in the counter, bent his neck and spit. Then he rinsed. Then he twisted, reached across the counter in front of me, grabbed a hand towel and wiped, throwing it on the counter when he was done.
“You jumped me,” he answered.
“I didn’t jump you! You threw me on the bed!”
“Right,” he grinned. “Then you jumped me.”
“I didn’t jump you, I was on my back!”
He moved so he was behind me, his hands came to my upper h*ps and his head bent so he could kiss my neck, which he did. I watched him do it in the mirror and watching it made me lose my hold on my mind again.
Then his head came up and he looked at me in the mirror.
“Thanks for remindin’ me of that,” he muttered. “So, I guess I shouldn’t say you jumped. It was more like you… attacked.”
“This isn’t funny,” I told his reflection.
He grinned yet again and said, “Babe.”
“It isn’t!”
“We’ll talk about it later,” he declared.
“Tate –” I started.
“Get ready.”
“Tate! We need to talk. This is insane.”
“We’ll talk.”
“When?”
“Later.”
“When, later?” I asked.
“Later, later,” he answered with a non-answer.
I pulled in breath. Then with his hands still on my nearly na**d hips, me in my underwear, in a bathroom, in a hotel with Tatum Jackson, I started swiping my cheeks with blush while said Tatum Jackson watched.
“That reminds me. Mom called this morning and she’s going to try to talk you out of going today. She wants you to see our farm,” I told him.
“She won’t have to try too hard.”
My blush brush arrested on the apple of my cheek and I stared into his eyes in the mirror.
His eyes moved to the brush. “Ace, you keep f**kin’ around, we’ll never have breakfast.”
“You’re staying?” I whispered.
He dropped his bearded chin to my shoulder and his arms wrapped around my belly.
“Baby, you just came three times,” he said softly, his mouth close to my ear. “You think I’m flyin’ across four states when you’re topped up and tonight I get a chance to play?”
I felt my knees wobble.
“Tate,” I breathed.
“And your ex is a f**kwad and until I know he’s on a f**kin’ plane on his way back to suburbia, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
Oh.
My.
God.
“Tate,” I whispered.
“And we don’t know about your Dad yet and until he’s stable, I’m here.”
I stared at him in the mirror.
Who was this man and what did I do with him?
“What about the bar?” I asked.
“I’ll call Bubba, reem his ass, tell him about your situation and he’ll dry out and go back.”
I asked the all important question, “What about Wood?”
His chin came up but his arms didn’t leave me.
“That’s later.”
“I need to call him,” I whispered.
“No, you don’t need to call him. I need to call him. Wood and I need to have words. He’s got more words for you afterwards, we’ll see.”
“We’ll see?”
He nodded. “We’ll see.”
“I should –”
“Later.”
“But –”
His arms gave a squeeze. “Jesus, Lauren. Later.”
We held each other’s eyes in the mirror.
Then he said, “Breakfast, babe.”
“Right,” I whispered.
He dropped his head, kissed my shoulder, his beard tickling my skin and he left the bathroom.
I looked in the mirror at myself wearing my sexy undies. If I was honest, I didn’t look half bad. It was all Tyler’s “working the core”. Weeks of my abs aching like crazy was paying off, there was even some definition at my midriff and the mini-Buddha belly was more like a soft pooch. I hadn’t noticed. It was even kind of cute.
“We need to get breakfast,” I whispered.
His head was coming toward me. “After I kiss you.”
“Tate,” I was still whispering.
He kissed me, I slid out of my mind and into my body. By the time he was done I was all about my body.
So was Tate. “Don’t cover up, baby,” he muttered against my mouth. “I like the view.”
“I’m –”
“I like it.”
“But –”
His hand slid over one cheek of my bottom and he pulled my h*ps deeper into his.
“Babe, spent a month thinkin’ about this moment, when you’d be mine and this was what I could look forward to. Don’t hide it from me.”
In complete shock at his words, I stared into his eyes. “You spent a month thinking about this moment?” I repeated.
“Actually, no,” he answered. “Spent a month thinkin’ about what I did to you in bed,” he smiled, “and the shower.” His smile got so sexy my fingers curled into his shoulders. “And what I’m gonna do to you later. Seein’ you in sexy underwear was just bonus footage.”
I had no reply to this. I couldn’t even process this. All I could do was stand in his arms, my body pressed to his, and gaze in his eyes.
“You gonna stand there lookin’ at me, kiss me or get ready?” he asked.
“Get ready,” I answered softly but didn’t move and I didn’t move mainly because I was thinking I preferred option two (but option one of just staring at him had its merits).
He grinned. “Babe.”
“What?”
He let me go but his hand didn’t leave my ass. It stayed there so it could push me toward the bathroom.
I grabbed my stuff as I went and camped out in the bathroom, wiping the mirror and starting to get ready. I’d pulled a comb through my hair, put on a white headband, washed my face, brushed and flossed my teeth, moisturized and I was preparing for minimal makeup when Tate walked in, still in his towel, and he brushed his teeth standing next to me.
This was when I came fully back into my mind, in fact, I came speeding into it at Mach Three.
How on earth was I standing in my new sage green satin and taupe lace underwear in a bathroom in a Marriott in Indianapolis with Tatum Jackson?
My blush brush arrested in mid-air and I turned woodenly to him.
“How did this happen?” I asked.
He took his toothbrush out of his mouth and with a mouth full of white foam, he asked, “What?” then kept brushing.
I swirled my blush brush in the air indicating the entirety of our situation with a flourish.
He turned to the sink, put a palm in the counter, bent his neck and spit. Then he rinsed. Then he twisted, reached across the counter in front of me, grabbed a hand towel and wiped, throwing it on the counter when he was done.
“You jumped me,” he answered.
“I didn’t jump you! You threw me on the bed!”
“Right,” he grinned. “Then you jumped me.”
“I didn’t jump you, I was on my back!”
He moved so he was behind me, his hands came to my upper h*ps and his head bent so he could kiss my neck, which he did. I watched him do it in the mirror and watching it made me lose my hold on my mind again.
Then his head came up and he looked at me in the mirror.
“Thanks for remindin’ me of that,” he muttered. “So, I guess I shouldn’t say you jumped. It was more like you… attacked.”
“This isn’t funny,” I told his reflection.
He grinned yet again and said, “Babe.”
“It isn’t!”
“We’ll talk about it later,” he declared.
“Tate –” I started.
“Get ready.”
“Tate! We need to talk. This is insane.”
“We’ll talk.”
“When?”
“Later.”
“When, later?” I asked.
“Later, later,” he answered with a non-answer.
I pulled in breath. Then with his hands still on my nearly na**d hips, me in my underwear, in a bathroom, in a hotel with Tatum Jackson, I started swiping my cheeks with blush while said Tatum Jackson watched.
“That reminds me. Mom called this morning and she’s going to try to talk you out of going today. She wants you to see our farm,” I told him.
“She won’t have to try too hard.”
My blush brush arrested on the apple of my cheek and I stared into his eyes in the mirror.
His eyes moved to the brush. “Ace, you keep f**kin’ around, we’ll never have breakfast.”
“You’re staying?” I whispered.
He dropped his bearded chin to my shoulder and his arms wrapped around my belly.
“Baby, you just came three times,” he said softly, his mouth close to my ear. “You think I’m flyin’ across four states when you’re topped up and tonight I get a chance to play?”
I felt my knees wobble.
“Tate,” I breathed.
“And your ex is a f**kwad and until I know he’s on a f**kin’ plane on his way back to suburbia, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
Oh.
My.
God.
“Tate,” I whispered.
“And we don’t know about your Dad yet and until he’s stable, I’m here.”
I stared at him in the mirror.
Who was this man and what did I do with him?
“What about the bar?” I asked.
“I’ll call Bubba, reem his ass, tell him about your situation and he’ll dry out and go back.”
I asked the all important question, “What about Wood?”
His chin came up but his arms didn’t leave me.
“That’s later.”
“I need to call him,” I whispered.
“No, you don’t need to call him. I need to call him. Wood and I need to have words. He’s got more words for you afterwards, we’ll see.”
“We’ll see?”
He nodded. “We’ll see.”
“I should –”
“Later.”
“But –”
His arms gave a squeeze. “Jesus, Lauren. Later.”
We held each other’s eyes in the mirror.
Then he said, “Breakfast, babe.”
“Right,” I whispered.
He dropped his head, kissed my shoulder, his beard tickling my skin and he left the bathroom.
I looked in the mirror at myself wearing my sexy undies. If I was honest, I didn’t look half bad. It was all Tyler’s “working the core”. Weeks of my abs aching like crazy was paying off, there was even some definition at my midriff and the mini-Buddha belly was more like a soft pooch. I hadn’t noticed. It was even kind of cute.
