Page 30 of Wild for the Knight

I shut my eyes, softly shaking my head to clear the thoughts swirling through it, but they linger. I shut down this part of myself a long time ago, the part that feels. It’s so much easier to hide behind indifference. It was working. Until this guy decided to show his way more enjoyable soft side.

I let my guard down for half a second and it bit me in the ass. The kiss outside the gas station, then again before the grocery store. The way his mouth claimed mine, the way my body reacted to the gentlest of touches, breaking down every wall I’ve spent years building. I hate myself for wanting more of them.

The nap we took, the texts, the whole Chelsea thing. And now, this stupid note. It’s like I’ve been put in one of those tornado simulators, everything around me is pure freaking chaos. And the only person who knows half of it is the guy who lured me into a false sense of security. Am I being petty? Probably, but I really want to punch him in the face. “Drink, Abby.” His voice is strained like it’s a battle just to get any words out. He hands me my water bottle, and I take a few sips.

His eyelids lower, casting his eyes in that ‘bedroom’ glow they talk about in books, “Good girl.” He whispers as his eyes fall to my lips.

Hot damn. “I...” I clear my throat because my God, I am now overwhelmed and ridiculously turned on. “I need you to help me forget the past twelve hours,” I murmur, “please.” My voice a desperate whine as I tighten the cap.

Before I can say anything else, he slides his hands up the sides of my neck. My heart skips a beat, as my body relaxes into him. “Tatum...” I beg, as I turn to straddle him, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck. Who the hell is this woman that’s taken over my body?

“Hey.” He breathes against my ear. “Is this about last night or this morning?”

When I don’t answer, he takes the control I so desperately need him to. “Okay then, we’ll start at the beginning. I don’t want to hang out with anyone but you.”

My heart freezes as he nips at the top of my ear. His hand makes its way down to my hip, squeezing just enough to let me know he’s got me. I have not one coherent thought at the moment. Perfect. “I don’t want to do ‘coupley’ stuff with anyone but you.”

The words echo through my head as I stiffen. My hands grip the front of his shirt, but I don’t move away. I can’t. He kisses the side of my neck, but my body reacting on its own as it angles to the side giving him more room to explore. I should get off of him, tell him to stop, remind him that we aren’t supposed to feel this way, but I don’t. I asked him for this. The consequences are my own to bear.

In seconds, he’s laid the seat all the way back and rolls me under him. He lowers himself until our chests meet, his eyes wild as they dance around my face. “I want you, Abby.” His lips meet my forehead, resting there for a second before pulling back.

“Not just here, not just today, I want to see where this goes.” He twirls a stray hair around his finger before rubbing it softly between his thumb and index finger, my eyes darting between his. “I don’t know why, when, or how you weaseled your way into the organ in my chest, but the thought of you with someone else, or me with someone else, doesn’t sit right.”

I shake my head as all the potential complications come to mind. What if I ruin everything? The fact that I don’t even know if I can give up control long enough to be with someone. Sure, we could do the hook-up while on vacation thing. But what he’s asking for? I just don’t see that working out for either of us. “We can’t, Tatum,” I whisper, my voice trembling with every word. Like always, the man doesn’t listen. Not that I want him to in this instance, though.

“Hmm, you’re right.” His husky voice brings hope to the most desolate parts of me, it’s quickly becoming my favorite sound. “But I’ve never been good at following directions.” His lips meet mine, slow, soft. Sweet even. A word I would have never used to describe the man above me a week ago. When I don’t pull away, he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against the seam of my lips with an urgency that makes my heart trip over itself.

I pull back enough to look him in the eye, his lids heavy with desire. “I probably smell like sweat,” I whisper, hoping not to break the spell we’re in. His lips turn up into the tiniest smile before they meet mine again.

“I”

kiss

“don’t’

kiss

“care.”

His words act as the gate that holds back a bull in his chute. His lips slam against mine, my hand slides into the longer part of his hair, giving it a slight tug. His responding groan is such a turn-on that I arch further into him, seeking more of everything he has to offer.

We pour every ounce of fear, frustration, and desire into this. His hands run up my thigh, one hand slipping under the side of my shirt and running over my ribs. His touch a spark that threatens to burn me alive. My fingers dig into his back as they run down toward his waist.

Kissing him is every fantasy I’ve had since the incident. It’s a sudden crack of lightning that seemingly comes out of nowhere. All the arguments, insults, and every single wall we’ve built around ourselves... gone.

This isn’t just a kiss. It’s a freaking reckoning. When we pull apart, breathless and vulnerable, I sink into the realization of something I’ve known, yet ignored for a long time. Hate is the furthest thing I feel for this man. But losing a man like Tatum?

I’m not strong enough to survive that.

“Tell me you don’t want this.” He looks at me with those beautiful blues, so much hope swimming in them that it takes my breath away. I stare too long because a smirk pulls at one corner of his mouth before his hand slides to the back of my neck, and he pulls me back to him.

After he places a few short, soft kisses against the corners of my mouth, he lets me up enough that our eyes meet again. “Lie to me, Abby.” His tongue runs across his bottom lip. “I dare you.” He whispers, eyes full of heat, lips parted in invitation. One I gladly take. He’s addicting in every sense of the word.

Well damn, I’m tired of fighting. He can take control. For now.

I’ve been glued to my phone for the last hour. Tatum and I drove to the next town over and stopped at a coffee shop, he insisted we sit where we could see my car in case we were followed. We certainly gave them enough time to find us with the little stop we made.

Finally, what I’ve been waiting for comes through in the form of a phone call. “Hello?” I say as I fight to keep my hands from shaking.