I try not to smile, but I do. “That sounds very criminal for a DEA agent.”
“I know how to walk a fine line with the law.” He shrugs and pouts his bottom lip cutely.
“I was never sold on the goats and chickens.”
“I still believe you’ll come around.” Tate goes back to surfing on his phone.
Maybe I will. Maybe I already have. Not to the chickens and goats, but to Tate. Maybe I’ve had time to think about things. To re-evaluate. To see things with clearer eyes. He lied, yes. He betrayed, yes. But he wasn’t the one who set me up — he was the one who saved me. He risked his careerfor me. No one has ever done anything like that for me. Not even March and Fallon. And they gave me everything. They gave me my life back. I know what March would say if he were here right now.“Girl, take your shot.”
And I’m going to.
Trusting people is hard, but letting go of the ones who deserve your trust is stupid.
I get up from the chair with my heart pounding in my ears. Funny the things that can scare you in life. I can chase a man down and kill him with no hesitation. Stand toe to toe with some of the most violent criminals around, but tell Tate how I feel? Hand myself over to him? That's downright terrifying.
Especially since everything is different now. We’re different. We need to start all over. And where will that lead? How will it end? Too many questions without answers. And too many chances to leave regret on the table.
Once I make it over to the bed, Tate and I share a paused look.
“What’s up,Tiburona?”
I slide the phone out of his hand and toss it onto the other bed, then I climb on top of him.
“What are you doing?” He clutches my hips like he doesn’t want to let go, but watches me like I might try and kill him.
“I have no idea, but I hope it isn’t a mistake.” Then, I lean in and kiss him. He kisses me back, like he was on the verge of death and I just brought him back to life.
“It isn’t.” Tate kisses me harder, more passionately, with everything he has inside. Things move fast. Fervent, eager, starving, lips and fanatical, forceful, unconstrained hands clash together, ripping clothes and devouring boundaries.
There’s no time for slow or to savor. This is primal. This is a reconnection. A fierce need to join.
Once our clothes are gone and the divides are washed away. Tate clutches my hips and takes control. Our connection is electric. Crackling with urgency and kindling with a life-sustaining need.
Right before Tate impales me onto him, he stops. Hesitates.
“The same rules apply,” he heaves, his body tight with need and desperate with desire.
“What rules?”
“All of you or none of you.”
“All of me.” There’s no hesitation on my part. I know what I want. I grab his face and kiss him roughly. A moment later he’s thrusting into me, and everything in my broken universe seems to realign.
I ignore the pain in my side from my tender wound, and concentrate solely on Tate and the pleasure he can forge.
I may be on top, but he is the one grappling to keep his control. His iron grip on my hips dictates how much I can move. How far I can slide up and down, and how much of his cock I can have.
It’s a maddening, mind-bending connection that drives my pleasure over peaks and down through steep valleys. We share the same rollercoaster ride, eliciting the same tortured sounds when the pleasure intensifies. We’re in sync, the arousal flowing through us and between us like rapids.
Tate’s measured thrusts massage my inner walls and jab at my inflamed core. It’s insanity. The motion repeated over and over with the same exasperating, hypersexual-awakening outcome.
My moans elevate to a crescendo with every single thrust. My pussy aches and womb throbs, but it’s only surface-level. I need more to come. I need deeper and harder. I need all of Tate.
I know it will happen, but right now, we’re reconnecting. It’s a consuming of bodies and an absorption of souls. A coupling to consummate what we both want, and reforge what we once were building.
“Tate, oh God, Tate.” I can’t take the building pressure much longer. It’s all lodged right at the apex of my thighs. I need the release. Drawing myself closer to him so we are skin on skin, I rock my hips desperate for more friction.
Tate’s strenuous groan communicates he’s just as close. “Tell me you need me.” He palms my ass and drives in deeper.
