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“Tate, stop,” she demanded.
He grinned at her. “Your hair’s down,” he said quietly. “Top button’s open.” His hand slid up the inside of her thigh. “Matilda’s got secrets,” he whispered.
She grabbed his wrist, but she wasn’t strong enough to pry his hand off her. She glanced around nervously at the people across the lot, passing by on the sidewalk.
“Uh oh,” Tate said, moving his leg between hers, so she couldn’t close them. “No panties. Is my little virgin bride a little less…virginal…than I thought?”
“Stop!” she hissed, but Tate grazed the cleft between her legs. His fingers dipped into her and he pulled them back out. He brought his hand out from underneath her skirt and rubbed his fingers together. Tildy’s cheeks stung. She couldn’t deny any of it.
“Who is he, Matilda?” Tate asked politely–too politely–like they were discussing the weather or what they’d had for lunch, like he didn’t even really care. Tildy realized it was because he didn’t.
She shook her head, ignoring the tears stinging her eyes. “Just a friend,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “Cute. Didn’t know you had friends.”
Now Tildy’s cheeks stung for an entirely different reason. She reached up and shoved Tate. He stumbled back, just a few steps. “I do,” she insisted, but to her own ears she sounded whiny.
Tate, far from being angry at being denied, merely laughed. This enraged Tildy even more than his social leper comment. He wasn’t even angry that she was sleeping with someone else. Did he know it wasn’t serious? That Hawk wasn’t a threat, because he didn’t actually want to take her away? She turned toward her car, tears stinging her eyes. Tate knew. Skylar knew. Everyone, it seemed, was in on the joke.
Chapter 49
A red sports car overshot the entrance to the Burnout parking lot, backed up, and swung in. The tires kicked up rocks and dust before it stopped in the middle of the turnaround. The driver’s side door opened, and the harsh, overhead sun glinted off $60,000 of fiberglass and metallic paint.
Hawk carefully set the wrench down on the worktable. He turned to fully face Tate, who was ambling toward him. Tate was skinny as hell and couldn’t weigh much more than Tildy. What he thought he was doing here was anyone’s guess, but for such a small guy he sure had balls. “Is this the part where you tell me to stay away from your fiancée?” Hawk asked. “And I pretend to have no idea what you’re talking about?”
Tate smiled, but he didn’t seem happy. He just seemed smug, too smug for a guy whose woman was spending time in someone else’s bed. Tate shook his head. “Just the opposite, actually,” he told Hawk. “I’ve come to ask you to keep it up.”
Surprised, Hawk stole a glance at Tex, just to make sure he’d heard the man right. “Do what now?” he prompted, because surely he’d misheard.
Tate sighed. “Sorry, guess I’ll have to spell it out for you,” he sneered. He leaned a little toward Hawk. “Keep fucking her.”
Hawk didn’t respond for a moment. There had to be some kind of catch, something he wasn’t seeing. He couldn’t imagine having Tildy and being willing to share her.
“It’s funny,” Tate said. “I always thought she was just a frigid, little virgin.” He shrugged. “Guess not.”
Hawk resisted the urge to brag to Tate that he’d been the one to take Tildy’s virginity.
“You make her happy,” Tate explained. “And you’re already aware,” he continued, “that Matilda has a tendency to get into trouble. Getting lost in the wilderness. Raped in parking lots.”
“She wasn’t raped,” Hawk countered.
Tate merely shrugged. “I can’t look out for her all the time, but you can. You keep fucking her and she’s not going to want to fuck anyone else. She’ll stay out of trouble that way.” Tate reached into his pocket and produced a small, folded piece of paper. He opened it, and Hawk realized it was a check. “Consider it a token of my appreciation,” Tate declared. “You keep Matilda happy; I keep you happy.”
Hawk stared at the check and the man holding it. It was hard to tell which of them he wanted to tear into pieces more. There was no way this was happening. Tate wouldn’t come here and offer to pay him to sleep with Tildy. There was just no way. “What’s the catch?” Hawk demanded.
Tate shrugged again. “No catch. Keep her happy. Keep her distracted.” Tate paused. “Okay, there’s one catch. Keep your cum out of my wife’s cunt,” he said. “I’m not raising some other guy’s half-breed kids.”
Hawk took a step toward him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tex moving closer as well, no doubt preparing to pull Hawk off the bastard. Hawk merely reached out and plucked the check from Tate’s hand with two fingers.
