Until You
Page 74
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 f**k?
“I told you about my whole f**king 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 br**sts 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 f**k 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 f**king 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 c**k 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 br**sts. My arms crossed her chest, too, and I held her fragile, little frame, loving how easily she fit.
She always fit.
“Can you trust me?” I asked again.
“Yes.” Her voice was so small. She wasn’t sure anymore.
“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 f**k?
“I told you about my whole f**king 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 br**sts 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 f**k 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 f**king 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 c**k 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 br**sts. My arms crossed her chest, too, and I held her fragile, little frame, loving how easily she fit.
She always fit.
“Can you trust me?” I asked again.
“Yes.” Her voice was so small. She wasn’t sure anymore.
