Until You
Page 29
Swinging myself around the bannister, I barreled up the stairs and caught sight of Tate darting back into her room.
Was that a bat she was holding?
Yeah, that was gonna help. She wasn’t safe from me, and now she knew it.
I swung her door open in time to see her try to make her escape through the French doors. “Oh no, you don’t!”
Turning around to face me, she tried to raise the bat, but I was on her before she even got ready to swing. Snatching it out of her hands, I charged into her space, hovering but not touching. Wave after wave of heat washed over me from the inch of air between us.
She was pissed, too, from the look in her eyes. But her breathing wasn’t hard and deep. It was fast and shallow. She was scared.
“Get out! Are you crazy?” she tried to dart around me to get out of the room, but I cut her off.
“You cut the electricity to my house.” I kept my voice low and even. I didn’t want her afraid of me. It’s not like I would hurt her. But she had to know that one good turn deserved another.
“Prove it,” she snipped.
Oh, baby. My face relaxed, and I orchestrated a very fake and creepy smile. She did not want to play with me like this.
“How’d you get in here?” she snapped. “I’ll call the police!”
“I have a key,” I responded, enjoying her crestfallen face.
“How do you have a key to my house?”
“You and your dad were in Europe all summer,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Who do you think got the mail? Your dad trusts me. He shouldn’t have.”
James Brandt, I was pretty sure, knew next to nothing about my relationship with his daughter. Tate didn’t go whining about the state of affairs between us, because if she did, I was sure I’d be missing a couple of limbs.
“Get out,” she ordered, disgust and ire written all over her face, and I clenched my fists.
Advancing on her until she was backed up against her French doors, I hovered down and let her know who was really in control here.
Lesson one, Tate. I don’t do what I’m told. “You’re a nosy bitch, Tatum. Keep your f**king ass on your own side of the fence.”
She met my eyes, not blinking. “Keeping the neighborhood awake makes people irritable.”
I almost laughed at her spunk. She was trying to prove what a fighter she could be, and I plastered both of my hands on each side of her head, letting her know that she wasn’t even in my weight class.
Why she didn’t squirm out from under my arm, I have no idea. I half-expected her to. She stayed her ground, and unfortunately, that was hard on the both of us, I think. Eye to eye, nose to nose, tasting her breath, the room was crowded with tension or hatred. Maybe both, or maybe it was something else.
Thank God, she was the one to look away first. Her eyes dropped, and for a moment I thought I had her.
Until…her eyes started roaming over me, and I f**king stiffened.
Everywhere.
I watched as her heated gaze blazed a path over the lantern tattoo on my upper arm and down to the script on my torso, over my bare stomach and up my na**d chest.
And goddamn, her eyes felt good.
What the hell are you doing, Tate?
Images from my daydream in the bathroom poured in, and my own gaze started to fall down over her uncontrollably.
I enjoyed a great view down her black tank top and over the tops of her perfect br**sts. I liked that I could see a sliver of her stomach where the waistband of her little boxer shorts was rolled over. I loved thinking about what she’d sound like moaning my name.
But I hated that looking into her eyes was the best view of all.
She saw me, the real me, and it was the only time I actually felt like I existed.
But she also saw all of the ugliness and confusion.
She saw everything that made me a loser.
And that’s when I knew what she was doing. She was playing a game with me. Looking at me, getting me to nearly lose it.
Taking a deep breath, I turned away to walk out. “No one else is complaining so why don’t you shut up and leave it alone?”
“Leave the key,” she shot back, and I stopped.
I exhaled a bitter laugh. “You know, I underestimated you. You haven’t cried yet, have you?”
“Because of the rumor you started this week? Not a chance.”
Yep, she thought those pictures were my idea.
“Please, like I even have to resort to spreading rumors. Your cross-country pals did that. And their pictures. Everyone drew their own conclusions.” And I walked back over to her and got in her face. “But I’m boring you. I guess I have to step up my game.”
The threat hung in the air between us.
Her lips pursed, and her eyes must’ve burned. They were shooting flames.
She was ready to lose it. In 3-2-1…
“What did I ever do to you?” she screamed.
I shrugged my shoulders, not willing to tell her the truth. “I don’t know why you ever thought you did something. You were clingy, and I got sick of putting up with it is all.”
She wasn’t clingy. She was dishonest and unreliable.
“That’s not true. I wasn’t clingy.” She choked on a breath. “You were over at my house as much as I was at yours. We were friends.” She looked at me with such sadness. Her face was tight, and tears pooled in her eyes.
All a f**king lie.
I smiled, but it burned with more anger than amusement. “Yeah, keep livin’ the dream.”
Was that a bat she was holding?
Yeah, that was gonna help. She wasn’t safe from me, and now she knew it.
I swung her door open in time to see her try to make her escape through the French doors. “Oh no, you don’t!”
Turning around to face me, she tried to raise the bat, but I was on her before she even got ready to swing. Snatching it out of her hands, I charged into her space, hovering but not touching. Wave after wave of heat washed over me from the inch of air between us.
She was pissed, too, from the look in her eyes. But her breathing wasn’t hard and deep. It was fast and shallow. She was scared.
“Get out! Are you crazy?” she tried to dart around me to get out of the room, but I cut her off.
“You cut the electricity to my house.” I kept my voice low and even. I didn’t want her afraid of me. It’s not like I would hurt her. But she had to know that one good turn deserved another.
“Prove it,” she snipped.
Oh, baby. My face relaxed, and I orchestrated a very fake and creepy smile. She did not want to play with me like this.
“How’d you get in here?” she snapped. “I’ll call the police!”
“I have a key,” I responded, enjoying her crestfallen face.
“How do you have a key to my house?”
“You and your dad were in Europe all summer,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Who do you think got the mail? Your dad trusts me. He shouldn’t have.”
James Brandt, I was pretty sure, knew next to nothing about my relationship with his daughter. Tate didn’t go whining about the state of affairs between us, because if she did, I was sure I’d be missing a couple of limbs.
“Get out,” she ordered, disgust and ire written all over her face, and I clenched my fists.
Advancing on her until she was backed up against her French doors, I hovered down and let her know who was really in control here.
Lesson one, Tate. I don’t do what I’m told. “You’re a nosy bitch, Tatum. Keep your f**king ass on your own side of the fence.”
She met my eyes, not blinking. “Keeping the neighborhood awake makes people irritable.”
I almost laughed at her spunk. She was trying to prove what a fighter she could be, and I plastered both of my hands on each side of her head, letting her know that she wasn’t even in my weight class.
Why she didn’t squirm out from under my arm, I have no idea. I half-expected her to. She stayed her ground, and unfortunately, that was hard on the both of us, I think. Eye to eye, nose to nose, tasting her breath, the room was crowded with tension or hatred. Maybe both, or maybe it was something else.
Thank God, she was the one to look away first. Her eyes dropped, and for a moment I thought I had her.
Until…her eyes started roaming over me, and I f**king stiffened.
Everywhere.
I watched as her heated gaze blazed a path over the lantern tattoo on my upper arm and down to the script on my torso, over my bare stomach and up my na**d chest.
And goddamn, her eyes felt good.
What the hell are you doing, Tate?
Images from my daydream in the bathroom poured in, and my own gaze started to fall down over her uncontrollably.
I enjoyed a great view down her black tank top and over the tops of her perfect br**sts. I liked that I could see a sliver of her stomach where the waistband of her little boxer shorts was rolled over. I loved thinking about what she’d sound like moaning my name.
But I hated that looking into her eyes was the best view of all.
She saw me, the real me, and it was the only time I actually felt like I existed.
But she also saw all of the ugliness and confusion.
She saw everything that made me a loser.
And that’s when I knew what she was doing. She was playing a game with me. Looking at me, getting me to nearly lose it.
Taking a deep breath, I turned away to walk out. “No one else is complaining so why don’t you shut up and leave it alone?”
“Leave the key,” she shot back, and I stopped.
I exhaled a bitter laugh. “You know, I underestimated you. You haven’t cried yet, have you?”
“Because of the rumor you started this week? Not a chance.”
Yep, she thought those pictures were my idea.
“Please, like I even have to resort to spreading rumors. Your cross-country pals did that. And their pictures. Everyone drew their own conclusions.” And I walked back over to her and got in her face. “But I’m boring you. I guess I have to step up my game.”
The threat hung in the air between us.
Her lips pursed, and her eyes must’ve burned. They were shooting flames.
She was ready to lose it. In 3-2-1…
“What did I ever do to you?” she screamed.
I shrugged my shoulders, not willing to tell her the truth. “I don’t know why you ever thought you did something. You were clingy, and I got sick of putting up with it is all.”
She wasn’t clingy. She was dishonest and unreliable.
“That’s not true. I wasn’t clingy.” She choked on a breath. “You were over at my house as much as I was at yours. We were friends.” She looked at me with such sadness. Her face was tight, and tears pooled in her eyes.
All a f**king lie.
I smiled, but it burned with more anger than amusement. “Yeah, keep livin’ the dream.”
