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Tate dropped his hand and shifted even closer to Wren, so their legs tangled and their chests were pressed together. He slipped one arm around her waist, the other hand moving back up to cradle the side of her face as he tilted her head back. Her gaze met his, wide and unblinking. “Before, it was just playing around. I was attracted to you. Wanted to get you in my bed.” He dipped his head so his mouth hovered just above hers. “But now all I can think about is, how can I keep you in my bed? In my house? In my life?”
Before she could utter a single word, he settled his mouth on hers.
WREN’S HEAD SWAM at the first touch of Tate’s warm, damp lips on hers. They moved over hers slowly, as if he were savoring her, savoring this particular moment—their first real kiss. Helplessly she reached out, her fingers catching at the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. He went willingly, his arm tightening around her waist, his other hand sliding from her cheek up into her hair at the exact moment he deepened the kiss. She parted her lips, letting him in. A whimper sounded in her throat when his tongue thoroughly swept her mouth.
He said he wanted to keep her. That he wanted her. Evidence of his want pressed against her belly, reminding her that all she had to say was yes.
And he’d be inside her. No questions asked.
She slipped her arms around his neck and buried her hands in his soft hair, a whimper leaving her when he broke the kiss to slide his mouth down the length of her neck. His hot lips blazed a trail along her skin, leaving her weak. Restless.
Terrified.
Could she really have something serious with Tate? She was tempted. So tempted. But what if he hurt her? What if she wasn’t good enough? What if he got bored? She was scared. Relationships in general scared her. She didn’t want to get hurt. It was easier to pretend you didn’t need someone than lay your feelings, all your hopes and dreams, on the line.
Kissing Tate, falling into bed with him, wasn’t going to solve her problems—only temporarily, if at all.
Maybe she needed a temporary fix.
“Hey.” He broke the kiss, his lips moving against hers when he spoke. “You’re not with me.”
Blinking her eyes open, she stared up at him, his face so close she could see the myriad colors in his eyes. They weren’t solid green, but a mixture of shades of light and dark green, gold, and brown. “I’m with you,” she said breathlessly, reaching up to touch the side of his face. His skin was prickly with stubble, and she had the sudden image of all that stubble rubbing against her thighs as he dived between her legs.
Her panties dampened at the mere thought.
“Really.” He kissed her nose. “I find it hard.” He kissed her cheek. “To believe you.” He kissed her other cheek. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about him.”
Wren’s eyes widened. What? She wasn’t thinking about Levi. She was worried about herself and the predicament she was in. All of the problems overwhelming her, along with her confusing feelings for Tate. Did he feel the same way? Could he?
“Are you?” Tate repeated, his voice firm. Maybe even a little bit angry. “Are you really kissing me and thinking about your ex?”
“I . . . no.” She shook her head, unsure of what to say next. She’d never been in this kind of situation before, with two men vying for her attention. She’d always thought that could be kind of fun. Such heady stuff, two men wanting her at the same time. What girl wouldn’t want to experience that at least once?
But it wasn’t fun. Not at all. No, more like it was confusing and terrifying. She didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. She didn’t want to feel like this. And she definitely didn’t want to make Tate angry.
But angry, frustrated Tate was pretty hot. His jaw had gone hard, muscle clenching, and his cheeks were ruddy. She’d caught glimpses of that cute dimple in his left cheek quite a bit when he was flirting with her, but all traces of it were gone at this moment. His eyes were dark and full of fire, his brows lowered, his mouth still damp and swollen from their kisses . . .
Okay, that was really hot. She could literally feel his fingers flex and curl into a fist at the small of her back, like he wanted to punch Levi, which was crazy. She didn’t want them to get into a fight over her.
Though the idea of two men fighting over her was sort of hot.
“I want to make you forget that guy ever existed.” Tate slipped his hand beneath her chin, his thumb and index finger curling around it as he tilted her head back so their gazes met, his turbulent and swirling with anger. “I want to fuck every memory of him right out of you.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, and her knees went weak. Should she be offended? Tell him to go to hell? Probably, though truthfully his words only aroused her more, and a helpless little sound escaped her.
His eyes darkened as he skimmed his thumb across her mouth, making it tingle. She parted her lips, about to say something, but he slipped his thumb between her lips, and she darted out her tongue, licking his flesh. His eyes darkened even more, and he removed his thumb from her lips, replacing it with his mouth.
Kissing her until she thought she might drown.
She clutched at him, her hands slipping beneath his T-shirt at the exact moment his fingers gathered up the skirt of her dress. Cool air wafted across her backside when he exposed her, and then his hands were there. Big and warm, sliding over her ass, toying with the pitifully thin fabric of her panties before he dipped his fingers beneath the waistband, touching her bare, sensitive skin.
All the while his mouth consumed. Devoured. He had her pressed to the wall, his hard body flush against hers, his hips grinding, his hands kneading, his tongue thrusting. She whimpered as she jerked his T-shirt up, her hands exploring the hot, wide expanse of his chest. Counting the ridge of muscles in his abdomen, sliding over his pecs, teasing the small patch of hair that grew in the center.
He was all man. Muscled and hot and rough, his hands roaming all over her like he was mapping her skin with his fingers. He kissed like he wanted to possess her, like he already owned her, and when he pushed at her panties with a firm shove, she let him, wiggling her hips so they fell to her thighs.
Breaking the kiss, he knelt before her, his splayed hands gripping her hips. She reached out, bracing her hands on his broad shoulders, her entire body trembling in anticipation of what he would do to her next.
And he didn’t disappoint, his head disappearing beneath her dress, his warm, wet mouth on her quivering stomach. She released her hold on him and sagged against the wall, a low moan escaping when he nipped and licked around her belly button, his hand shoving her panties the rest of the way down until they landed around her ankles. She kicked them off, watching in fascination as his head moved beneath her pink skirt, his mouth on her skin, his fingers . . .
