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Tate instantly released her flesh and collapsed forward on his elbows, all hollowed out. Still, he slowly and idly glided his cock in and out of her while they came down from their high, just as he always did. The whole time, he called himself all kinds of stupid for branding her. “About the mark—”
“It’s fine, Tate,” she slurred. “It’ll heal.”
His cat bared his teeth at the idea. “I still shouldn’t have done it.”
“Jeez, relax, will you? You’re messing with my buzz here.”
Tate snickered. “Wouldn’t want to do that.” Despite that she didn’t seem all that bothered by it, he softly kissed the bite in apology. Honestly, though, he wasn’t as sorry as he should have been.
Weirdly, the urge to mark her that had lived and breathed inside him for what felt like months wasn’t yet gone, but it had lost its vehemence. It was now more like a subtle, background pulse in his gut.
Havana stirred slightly as she felt his dick slip out of her. She almost moaned in disappointment. He looped an arm around her waist and shuffled her up the bed so they could both lie flat. She remained on her stomach, her muscles all loose and lazy, her eyes closed.
He could be incredibly sweet and tactile after sex, so Havana wasn’t surprised when Tate curled into her side and stroked her back, mapping and petting her. Utterly sated, her devil all but hummed in contentment.
He pressed his mouth to her shoulder as he smoothed his hand up her nape and thrust his fingers into her hair. Those fingers began a slow, firm massage that almost made her toes curl.
“Your wrists okay?” he asked, dabbing another kiss on her shoulder.
She opened her eyes, liking the languid look in his own. “You didn’t hurt me.”
He skimmed his fingertips over her hairline, behind her ear, and down to dance along the crook of her neck. “How’s your devil doing?”
“Practically asleep.”
Humming, he dragged his fingers down her spine and then gently stroked one globe of her ass. “Love your body. Especially that world-class ass.” He carefully eased her onto her side and smoothed his hand over her hip, up her stomach, and palmed her full breast. “And these tits. Love fucking them.” He lazily sipped from her mouth, his tongue barely flicking the tip of hers. It didn’t matter whether his kisses were hard and urgent or soft and easy—they were always mind-melting.
Pulling back, he flitted his intent gaze over her face. He brushed her hair aside … as if he didn’t want a single strand obstructing his view. “You look even more beautiful after you come,” he said, his voice low. “Your eyes go all soft and dreamy, and your face gets all warm and flushed. Love that look.”
A phone began to chime, slicing through the deliciously lazy atmosphere. Tate’s phone.
He edged off the mattress, crossed to the foot of the bed, and snatched his jeans off the floor. He dug his cell out of his pocket and swiped his thumb over the screen. “Yeah?”
Even with her enhanced hearing, it was impossible for Havana to make out what his caller was saying—Tate no doubt kept the volume low on purpose so that no one could eavesdrop. She could tell it was a male voice, though.
Tate sighed. “I’ll meet you there in five minutes. Call Bree or one of the other omegas. They’ll help calm him.” He ended the call and turned to her. “Got to go, babe. One of my pride mates is pitching a fit and causing a scene. Need to shut that shit down.”
Havana remained exactly where she was as he dressed. She’d forgotten how it hurt to watch him drag on his clothes and leave. He never did it immediately after sex, but he never stayed long. She hadn’t ever judged him for it—it was simply his way of ensuring that the boundaries remained clear. But it wasn’t much fun for her.
She wondered if maybe he’d stop pushing her for sex now that she’d finally caved. It was possible that his ego had indeed been smarting after she ended their fling. Now that he was able to be the one who officially walked away, he might very well do so. Which would be for the best, so she’d suck it up. And eat ice cream. Lots and lots of ice cream.
Dressed, Tate leaned over and pressed a kiss to her hip … then to her shoulder … then to her forehead. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?”
She nodded and forced a smile. “Yeah.”
His eyes narrowed and searched her own. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She cleared her throat and gave him what she hoped was a more authentic-looking smile. “So, I guess I’ll see you again when we take the next step to put a stop to the auction.”
His brows lifted slightly. “You thought tonight would be a one-off?” he asked, his tone carefully even. “That this was some sort of goodbye fuck?” He sat on the bed, rolled her onto her back, and planted a fist either side of her head. “I told you I want you back. I meant it.”
