Page 26 of Forbidden Heart

Tate pulls me into his side, and my heart races as we enter a magical dream. A heavenly quietness surrounds us. Overhead, a bird sings out, almost like we’re inside a fairy tale.

Without even realizing I’m doing it, I lean into him, luxuriating in the warmth of his skin and inhaling his scent. Awash with happiness, I sigh.

“I love running down this path,” Tate murmurs. “I always alternate between here and the forest.”

“It is beautiful.” I nod in agreement as I take in the sights, sounds, and smells of nature.

“I’m so glad you decided to come with me, Roonie.” Tate gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “And I love having you all to myself.”

A warm and sensual shiver runs down my spine. That Tate likes me at all is an alluring prospect. The fact that he wants to be alone with me is even better. Suddenly, I’m barely aware of where we’re going. I might as well be floating on a cloud.

I gaze up into Tate’s brilliant blue eyes and let myself melt further against his body. Something rumbles. For a moment, I think it’s my stomach. Then I look up and realize it’s a group of distant thunder clouds, moving closer. The skies overhead are getting dark, too. Even so, it’s not enough to darken my feelings of joy.

I lean into Tate’s warmth as a song starts to take form in my head.

Seeing Silas was a disaster

Tomorrow could be my Happy Ever After

I’m no longer all alone

Could it be I’ve found my way home?

Shining heart and eyes like the ocean

His sweet words are my love potion

Blond hair and a smile so disarming

Could it be I’ve found my Prince Charming?

My cheeks flush, worried I’d sung the words aloud, but Tate isn’t looking at me. Unlike earlier, he seems relaxed, like the decision to fly out and see his sister alleviated all his worries. Which means this is probably a good time to tell him about Marcus the RA and Silas Covered in Thorns.

“Tate—” I only manage to get his name out when a cool droplet splashes onto my face. Then another droplet hits my arm. I shiver.

The sensation of passionate heat emanating from Tate, mixed with the chilly rain above, makes my skin tingle all over. It takes my brain a moment to make sense of it. I look up and see that the skies above us have become completely dark.

Tate swears and looks over my shoulder.

“There!” he shouts.

For a split second, I think he spotted Silas, and a wave of fear shoots through me. Then I realize he’s pointing at a gazebo on the other side of the meadow. He grabs my hand and we run.

Above us, the skies open up. The sprinkle of raindrops hastens to a downpour. Water gushes out of the sky and relentlessly soaks us to the skin. Our shoes become waterlogged and squishy as we dash across the slippery grass.

Tate’s sneakers seem to be faring well, but my flats, not so much. At least three times, I’m sure that I am going to fall and end up face down in a mud puddle, but Tate pulls me along and keeps me steady.

At last, we burst into the shelter of the gazebo. We stand in the center, where the wooden floors are their proper, dry color and not drenched from the rain. We are surrounded by the scent of wet sawdust.

With one strong, masculine hand, Tate slicks his hair out of his eyes. A trail of water droplets rains back in an arc, like a rooster’s comb. He gathers the bottom of his shirt in his hands and wrings out the excess water next, revealing a hint of abs that my eyes lock on and refuse to leave.

I should probably wring out some of the water from my dress, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from Tate. When he drops his shirt back into place, I look up and rivulets of water stream down his forehead. His boyish smile makes him look innocent, but his chiseled jawline and broad shoulders are anything but. His wet shirt clings to his body, and I can see the outline of his pecs.

Sheepishly, I lock eyes with my Prince Charming. The slightest hint of a blush crosses his face, and I catch his eyes drifting down to my chest before quickly snapping up again. Instead of looking at me, he glances up at the underside of the gazebo’s roof. All of a sudden, Tate has become fascinated with the rafters.

I look up, too, but the roof is solid and doing its job, protecting us from the rain. I look down next, and that’s when I realize that the thin dress I’m wearing is just as drenched as Tate’s shirt... and just as revealing.

My soaked dress clings to my figure, hanging heavily off my breasts and even being so indecent as to highlight my already-pert nipples. As casually as possible, I try to pose with my arms covering my chest.