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The idea of Tate inside my twisted head makes me shudder. I don’t need anyone to ever see the chaotic shitstorm I live with each day. Especially not Tate. He’s too sweet for the likes of what he’d uncover and I refuse to be what ruins him.
“Oh yeah?” I ask, wishing like hell I could rip this stupid mask off. “What do you hear?”
He shifts in my grip, but since I’m holding his shoulders so tight, he barely moves. “You’re struggling with something. Something to do with me.”
I hate that I’m so obvious, but I am pinning him to the wall like he’s my prize and I’m deciding on which limb to feast on first.
“You confuse me,” I admit, voice raspy. “I thought I hated you, but this feeling is not hate.”
I pull back a slight bit to look into his eyes. His pupils are blown and cheeks pink. I’m fixated on his plump lips, especially the bottom one. He tugs at it with his top teeth.
“Do you want to kiss me?” His whispered question sends thrills shooting through every nerve ending.
Kiss him?
Hell yeah, I want to kiss him.
I want to fuse my lips to his and taste his sweetness straight from the source.
“No,” I lie. “I-I can’t.” The second part is the truth.
“Because you don’t think you deserve to feel pleasure or because you refuse to take off your mask?”
A dark chuckle barks out of me. “Can the answer be both?”
My hold on his shoulders has loosened. I realize I’m rubbing gentle circles against them with my thumbs. Tate makes me more insane than I already am. I can’t think straight or control my physical reactions around him.
“You deserve to be happy,” he says softly, sadness making his eyes glimmer. “And you can take your mask off with me. I won’t judge you.”
His words are a siren’s song, tempting me closer and closer to the treacherous shore. I want to believe him. I really, really do.
“I can’t do it,” I murmur, hating myself more than ever.
Tate reaches along the wall and then flips the light switch. We’re bathed in immediate darkness. My frozen spine thaws, relaxing me a bit.
“May I?” he asks, palms skimming up my chest over my hoodie toward my neck. “I can’t see.”
No.
No. No. No.
Fuck no.
“Y-Yes,” I croak out, unable to deny this decadent fantasy that seems so close I can taste it.
He makes a small keening sound of pleasure that wakes my dick right up. I slide my hands down to his hips, gripping my fingers into his lower back as I wait for him to do the inevitable.
His fingertips brush over the bottom of my mask as he seeks it out in the dark. Then, slowly, he begins lifting it. Cool air feathers over my face that’s damp with perspiration. He pulls the mask completely off and then it hits the floor with a softthwump.
“You deserve to be happy,” Tate says firmly, as though he can drill it into my head.
Rather than hear him talk anymore about my happiness—or lack thereof—I dip down to seek out his mouth with mine. All too easily, I find him in the dark, my lips gently brushing over his.
They’re warm.
And softer than I imagined.
He parts his lips and lets out a breathy sound that makes my head spin. Unable to hold back, I crash my mouth against his, desperate for more than a little peck. The second my tongue meets his for a slippery greeting, I’m lost to this insane moment between us.
