“Sorry, man,” Nolan claps me on my shoulder.
“It’s okay. Maybe you did me a favor here.”
I run my hand through my hair as Hennie stands in front of me. Her arms are wrapped around her middle. She always does that when she’s bracing for bad news. I hope that what I’m about to tell her she’ll someday consider good news.
So many thoughts go through my head in an instant. How do I tell her? I don’t want her to hate me more than she already does. Perhaps Nolan did me a favor by blurting it out. If we’re going to work together, we need to start with a clean slate.
“Tate, if you don’t tell me what the hell Nolan was talking about, I’m walking out this door.”
“Can we please sit down, and I’ll tell you?”
“No. I’m not moving until you tell me.”
The confusion on her face tells me she’s ready to run. I can’t let her do that until she knows the truth. I move my hands to my pockets to keep the shaking to a minimum. Taking a deep breath, I begin to tell Hennie the truth of what happened ten years ago.
“First, you have to know what I did was because I wanted the best for you.”
“Goddamnit, Tate!” Her frustration boils over.
“Alright, Hen. Let me tell you everything before you yell at me. I didn’t cheat on you with Izzy. I lied about it because I wanted you to go to California and live your dream. I didn’t want you to settle for staying with me in New York. I knew you wouldn’t go unless I did something bad enough for us to break up. I knew the only thing that would make you leave was for me to tell you I cheated.”
Hennie opens her mouth to speak, but I put my hands up, “Please, let me get this out.”
With her bright pink painted fingernails, Hennie covers her mouth. I don’t think she’s doing it, so she doesn’t speak— I think it’s so she doesn’t cry.
“I’m sorry my lie hurt you, Hennie, but I wouldn’t take back what I did because you’re doing what you’ve always dreamt about doing.”
I watch as she tries to process what it is I’m telling her. It’s as if she’s replaying that night in her mind. God knows I have. It seems like minutes before she says anything, but when she does, I wished she’d taken more time before letting me know how she feels.
Chapter Twenty-One
Hennie
“I hate you,” I yell as I speed past Tate. But it’s a lie. Sure, I don’t like him right now, but even after he cheated on me, I didn’t hate him. I still love him. Wait . . . I can’t believe what he’s telling me. He lied to me about what happened with Izzy. God, how I’ve prayed for it not to be true. For ten years, I’ve prayed things would’ve been different.
Tate’s arm wraps around me, blocking me from leaving. “Hennie, wait.”
He gives up easily when I wiggle from his grip. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Hennie, please. Yell at me, hate me, but don’t walk away until we talk about this.”
“I’m gonna go,” Nolan says as he runs out.
“Yeah, I’ll deal with you later, Nolan,” I yell after him.
I turn to face Tate. Now, my finger is in his face, which is awkward since he’s a foot taller than I am, but I get it as close as I can for emphasis. Tate always told me he knew I was mad when my pointer finger came out. And right now, I’m madder than I’ve ever been. Even more so than when he told me he cheated on me. At that time, I was more sad than mad. Now? I’m freaking pissed.
“You think I want to talk to you? I mean, I don’t even know you, Tate. How could you lie to me about such a terrible, hurtful thing? If you even did lie!” I throw my hands in the air. I don’t even know what to believe anymore.
I turn once again to run out the door, but Tate steps in front of me, blocking the way out. “Please, Hennie. I’m begging you to give me some time to make you understand why I did what I did. I mean, come on. Do you really think you would’ve been happy staying in New York? I thought you loved what you do for CJJ. We both know you wouldn’t be working there if I hadn’t made you leave.”
What he’s saying is technically true, but it was my choice to make, and he took that away from me. My mind races. Tate didn’t cheat on me? Everything I’ve thought for the last ten years is a lie. I can’t believe he’s trying to say he did it for me. Somehow, I made him lie to me because I didn’t want to leave him.
My sadness at the whole situation suddenly overwhelms me. “I loved you, Tate. I loved you so much, I couldn’t bear the thought of being without you. The last ten years have been full of heartbreak for me in more ways than you know.”
Tate pulls me against him, and hell, I don’t even fight it. I’m emotionally exhausted. I have been ever since the night he lied to me about Izzy.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Hennie. It killed me to hurt you. It killed me when you left and every day since. But I felt if I loved you the way I did, I needed to put you first,” he kisses the top of my head.
My body is wracked with sobs. Tate rubs my back as he whispers my name over and over in my ears. I’m angry for the loss of what should have been, so why does it feel so good to be in his arms? I try to struggle out of his grasp, but it’s half-hearted. Looking up at his dark eyes is a mistake because the relief I feel right now is my undoing.
He didn’t cheat on me. Yes, he lied, and I’m pissed. But the fact he didn’t screw Izzy overrides any anger I’m feeling at this moment. Right now, I just want to feel him again.
Taking his face in my hands, I lean up on my tiptoes and allow my lips to linger over his. It’s the only permission I need to give him before Tate towers over me. He grabs my long hair, wrapping it around his hand. With not what I’d consider a gentle pull, my face is tilted up to his as he crashes his mouth to mine. This isn’t like the kisses Tate used to give me. This is carnal and desperate. Tate Palmer is taking what he wants, and I’m going along for the ride . . . happily.
He bites my lower lip gently. My moan is swallowed by his tongue, lavishing mine. Feeling the heat from his hands on my hips, I nearly explode. Tate pulls me into him, and I feel how turned on he is. It’s only matched by my own arousal.
With the last ten years temporarily forgotten, I shamelessly grind against Tate.
“Hennie, I can feel how hot you are for me,” he murmurs against my mouth. Even though he only pulls away just a little, I miss him immediately.
With his lips, Tate traces my jawline down to the middle of my breasts. Gasping at the intimacy of this moment, I know I should stop what’s happening. But I can’t. This right here seems like the most natural thing to do.
“I want you right now, Trouble. I want you in my bed. I need to know what it’s like to be inside the woman I love.”
I want that too, so damn much.
“Yes, Tate, I want that too.” I nip at his mouth.
Tate lets out a low growl as he gathers me in his arms.
“What about the steaks?” I giggle.
“Fuck the steaks. You’re going to be my dinner tonight.”
Oh, God.
Tate carries me into his room, placing me gently on his oversized bed. I notice how masculine his room is decorated in black and gray.
I watch as Tate pulls his shirt over his head. My eyes linger on his chest and the abs he didn’t have ten years ago. Next, come his jeans. My mouth waters as he stands before me in his Calvin Klein underwear. The sight of his erection makes me wetter than I thought possible.
As my hand moves to my center, wanting to get some friction, I get an admonishment from Tate. He moves to the bed, crawling up to me.
“That’s my job, sweetheart. A job I take very seriously.”
His smirk makes my insides quake with anticipation of what’s to come.
“Sit up, Hennie.” His husky voice envelopes my body.
Tate’s hands move down my shoulders to my arms. My goosebumps are obvious.
“Are you cold?”
My answer comes out as a whisper. “No.”
He cinches up
my dress from my thighs. “Damnit, Hennie, you’re stunning,” he admits as his hands rub up my legs to my pink lace underwear. “You’re so ready for me, aren’t you?”
Before I can scream yes, Tate lifts my dress over my head. His jaw drops when he sees I’m not wearing a bra. “The bra was built into the dress,” I whisper.
Taking advantage of his surprise, I hook my hands into the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down. God, his cock is beautiful. I know that sounds weird, but it is.
“Like what you see?”
I arch an eyebrow at Tate. “Cocky?”
We both laugh, but only for a second before Tate moves down my body, kissing a trail until he reaches my center. “These have to go,” he says as he rips my underwear off.
I don’t even have time to yell at him before his mouth is on me. My clit pulses as his tongue teases and takes. And when Tate inserts his finger into me, I’m done. The sound of blood rushing in my ears is almost too much as it takes me less than a minute to go over the edge.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe that happened so fast,” I huff out as I try and catch my breath. Tate doesn’t let me come down before his mouth is on mine.
Slowly, his fingers, now wet, roll my nipples, making me arch into his touch.
“I can’t hold back anymore, Hen. I need to be inside you.”
“Yesss.” It comes out as a plea.
Tate grabs a condom off the table next to his bed. I want him to hurry, so I help roll it on as he moans out my name.
“Hurry, I can’t wait any longer,” I beg. I’m actually begging for Tate to make love to me.
Tate enters me with one thrust while his mouth meets mine. I feel a low growl emanate from his soul. As he starts to move, I claw at his back, urging him on. His eyes never leave mine. It’s as if he’s telling me this is us, this is how we’re supposed to be.
“Oh God,” I moan against his mouth. He’s buried deep inside me, and not just my pussy but my soul too, and that’s a dangerous place to be.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tate
I’ve been awake for the last hour, just watching Hennie. Her beautiful blonde hair kisses my chest as she lays tucked into me. Last night was so much more than I could’ve ever imagined. And believe me, I’ve imagined making love to Hennie ever since we were teenagers. I knew she would be the only love of my life since then.
My peaceful sense of mind begins to wane as thoughts of Hennie being engaged to someone else creep in. I blame myself mostly for Hennie falling in love enough to want to marry. It never should’ve come to that. Had I only been quicker in reaching out, perhaps she and I would be married.
My heart aches at the thought of Hennie being like this with her fiancé, whoever the fucker was. I wonder if she let him do the things to her that I did last night. I tense at the anger I feel. Hennie must sense it because her gorgeous blue eyes flutter open, the same damn eyes which have haunted my dreams for the last ten years.
“Morning,” she whispers as she kisses my chest, sending my dick into a tailspin.
Kissing the top of her head, I return her sentiment.
“Tate?”
“Trouble?”
“I think we need to slow down a bit.”
I roll Hennie over, so she’s on top of me.
“You do, do you? Now, why should we do that?” I question as I kiss the inside of her neck. It’s the one place I know drives her crazy.
“Tate, please.” Her voice is a mere whisper begging me to either stop or continue, I’m not sure which.
Looking into her eyes, I can see she’s not sure either. So I hedge my bet and continue getting reacquainted with Hennie’s lips. She responds just as I had hoped. With my hands in her hair, I pull her in deeper.
I feel a moan come from my woman, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever felt. Her sound vibrates through my whole body as if teasing me to continue. And just as I’m about to take things a little further, my fucking phone goes off.
“Tate, your phone.”
“Fuck my phone.”
Hennie giggles against my mouth. “Get it. I need to use the bathroom anyway.”
I watch Hennie as she sways her hips while I inwardly plot the murder of whoever is on the phone. Reaching for my phone, I don’t recognize the number, but I answer anyway.
“Tate Palmer.”
“You have a collect call from a New York State Correctional Facility.”
I hit ‘end.’ My no-good son of a bitch father calls maybe once a year, and today’s the day he picks. Fuck him. I’m not going to let him spoil my time with Hennie.
“You okay? Is something wrong?”
“No, gorgeous, everything's perfect.”
Reaching around her waist, I pull her small body against mine, remembering how she felt and tasted last night. Her hands clasp around the back of my neck as she pulls my mouth down to meet hers. But what I anticipated as a long lingering kiss is more of a gentle reminder of just how precarious this situation is. While I'm glad she didn't run out on me in the middle of the night, I know I still need to play my cards right if she's going to stay.
“Let's go out for breakfast,” she whispers, and I instantly regret letting her out of my bed this morning.
“How 'bout I make us breakfast?”
I don't mind going out, but I'd rather keep her here all to myself as long as I can.
“That sounds okay, but there's a really great diner I've missed since I've been in California.”
I give in like I always do when it comes to Hennie. She could ask me for anything, and I'd give it to her just to make her happy.
Hennie and I linger in the shower a little longer than anticipated because I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.
We finally made it to Marie’s Diner for breakfast. Apparently, Hennie comes here each time she’s in Manhattan, and I can see why. The place is old school, with vinyl-covered booths, old faded menus, and waitresses who appear to have worked here since they opened. We got the last table with a line forming behind us.
“So, what’s good here?”
“Everything.” Hennie smiles as she looks up from her worn-out menu. “I usually get the chocolate chip pancakes.”
I order eggs over easy and some fresh fruit, never taking my eyes off Hennie. From across the table, her eyes flit around the diner as if she’s trying to avoid looking at me. Yet all I can do is stare at her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Tate, last night and this morning were mistakes. If I’m going to work on this account, we cannot have sex.”
“Okay, then I guess I should fire you from the account,” I smirk.
But Hennie must think I’m serious because her jaw drops.
“Come on, Hennie. Do you think I’m that much of an asshole? Wait! Don’t answer that.”
Thankfully, my self-deprecating comment lightens the mood enough for Hennie to relax a bit.
“I just have to be professional here, Tate. It’s not about you and me or what happened ten years ago. It’s about my career with CJJ. I’m on tap for a promotion, and I don’t want to blow it by getting too involved with you. It won’t look good.”
This is what I wanted for her. I wanted her to focus on her career and not me.
“Look, Hen, I get it. I don’t want to interfere with what you’ve built up with CJJ. But I’ll admit the thought of working alongside you and not touching you will be painful.” Before Hennie can reply, our waitress brings our breakfast.
Hennie seems relieved the waitress cut our conversation short. Trying to forge ahead with being professional proves somewhat difficult. I watch as she digs into her chocolate chip pancakes, each bite taunting me as she wraps her lips around her fork. And don’t get me started on her moaning at the taste of her pancakes. I wonder if she realizes she’s making my dick hard?
“You seem to be really enjoying your breakfast.”
“You seem to be really enjoying watching me.”
“Hennie, I could watch you
all day. It wouldn’t matter what you were doing.”
My admission earns me a smile.
Quickly changing things back to being professional, I try and get a sense of what Hennie thinks we need to do to get Jensen up and in the face of the public.
“So, where should we start?”
“Excuse me?” Hennie asks as she cocks her head to the side.
So much for a smooth transition.
“With Jensen. Where should we start to get the word out about my company?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s why I’m here, right?” She laughs. “Okay, first, I’ve been going over your reports, and I think a press conference is in order. You have a good base of repeat customers. The market research shows they really admire the family atmosphere that your predecessor started. I think that’s an angle we should play up.”
I like it.
“I’ve tried to keep everyone on and add a few new employees. Those who worked with Steven even before my employment were adamant about the family theme. It’s something I appreciated when I began working for Jensen. It was as if they were my only family anymore.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hennie
After breakfast, Tate takes me to his office to give me a more detailed sense of what the company is like. But on the way there, I can’t help but replay the conversation at the diner. Tate’s comment about family hits me right in my heart. He really doesn’t have any family left. He’s alone. That thought makes me want to be here with him. It’s not out of sympathy, but instead, my sense of loyalty to Tate is as strong as it’s always been, even when I thought he betrayed me.
And that feeling of betrayal is quickly diminishing. Shaking my head at the ease of my forgiveness, I inwardly hope I’m not setting myself up for another heartbreak.
Looking at Tate only increases my need to reassure him that what he’s doing is a good thing. “Your uncle would be proud of the man you’ve become. I don’t think it’d matter to him whether or not you were working on the farm, Tate, as long as you’re happy.”
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