We’re sweaty. My cum’s all over the front of my boxers. His leaks down the backs of my thighs. He pulls his hand out, licking his fingers clean.
“I think I’ll suck your cock next time,” he decides out loud.
I scowl. “Is that really all I am to you? A fuck toy?” I lean over to snag a tissue from the box on the shelf. He snatches it out of my reach.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like being my fuck toy. Not after what I just saw. Swooning and moaning like my good little whore all in one afternoon.” He smirks. Smirky bastard.
“Give me a fucking tissue, Tate.”
“No. I want you to smell like me. Pull your pants up.” He sets the tissue box on another shelf. I want to tell him to go fuck himself just because, but I don’t hate the idea of smelling like him, so I pull up my boxers and pants. Thank fuck I’m wearing navy blue.
“Are you gonna tell me what your big plan is? So far, all you’ve done is piss my father off, royally.”
“I know,” he says, a victorious smile spreading onto his lips.
“He’s not someone you play games with, Tate.”
“Who says I’m playing a game? You’re mine. I don’t need to play nice with him. I take what I want.”
I huff a sigh. Is he really that arrogant? Or that sure of himself? There’s only a sliver of difference between the two.
“Then what was all the hype about recruiting?”
“It’s what the commissioner wants to see. I was appealing to him. If your father had gone for it—even if it was only because of pressure from the commissioner—that would have been a bonus, but I doubted he would.”
“Then I’m stuck at North Point.”
“But I’m not stuck at Shadowridge. I’ll be doing audits. My process will be long and involved.”
My chest warms, and I smile. “You’ll be at North Point.”
“That’s right.”
“You distracted my father with generational nonsense you knew he’d stew over, and you slipped that in at the end as almost a non-event.”
“Mm-hmm,” he hums. “Tell me I’m brilliant, kiss me goodbye, and text me later.”
Tate picks up the book we dropped, replacing it while I consider strangling him. The cocky motherfucker. And once again, he’s leaving me in utter ruin—full of his and my cum, burning ass cheeks, kinda winded.
“Well?” he says.
He’s done up his pants and tucked his shirt in, but he’s still without the suit jacket, sleeves rolled up to his biceps. Man, they’re big. Double the size of cantaloupes. He must eat whole cows for breakfast, including the bones.
I should snub him, storm out the door, and leave his ass wanting so he knows how that feels for five seconds. But then I remember his uncle, the one he’s glad died. Maybe he’s the reason Tate’s the way he is—never gave him what he wanted, sohe’s obsessed with having to have it now. Or maybe his uncle was just the good sense that tried to get in his way.
But I wander into his arms anyway, despite the danger, and despite my heart’s collateral when I inevitably find out he was just using me to get to the next thing he wants. He grips my chin, the palm fitting securely under my jaw, fingers cupping all the way up to my cheekbone in a way that makes me feel completely his.
He rests his forehead against mine. “Still waiting, dollface.”
Waiting for…? Oh, right. I sigh, rolling my eyes. “You’re brilliant, VanCourt.”
“You don’t believe it yet, but you will.” His lips descend, covering mine, and that feeling stirs again. That quiet and undeniable sense of home. He deepens the kiss, and I’m swept up in Tate’s magnetic energy.
“Marry me?” he murmurs against my lips.
My heart beats faster. I’ve got nothing to lose at this point. And I know saying yes to marriage in desperation is so not the play, but maybe I want to say yes to Tate.
“Not today, VanCourt. You’ll have to tell Ethan to put the chains away.”
