by RC Boldt
Miller spoke through clenched teeth, “Kane.”
“Yes, love muffin?”
“We have ten minutes left until we get to the office. If you have any respect for me—or for my mother since you’re suddenly so entranced with her now—you’ll let us ride in silence from here on out.”
Kane pondered for a split second. “Roger that.”
Thank. Fuck.
He should have known better, though. Because not two minutes into their ten minute talking embargo, he heard the tiniest moan followed by a whisper.
“Ooooh, Tate. Right there.”
That fucker.
* * *
“Okay, so dish, babe.”
Tate sighed as she finished entering grades into their computerized gradebook program the district required them to use. She should have known Pearce would be wanting the details as soon as word got around about her and Miller, the letters, and his mother showing up. Though, she had to admit her surprise at him being the first to enter her classroom that afternoon after students’ dismissal.
Aaaand, that was short-lived. Tate laughed inwardly as Raine, Laney, Zach, Lawson, and Mac entered her classroom as if the devil himself were hot on their heels.
“Come on,” Lawson slumped into a chair beside Pearce after tossing a greeting his way, “spill it, Tate. We’re dying to know what went down.”
Mac leaned against her side counter, arms crossed with a look of concern on his handsome face. Far too handsome to not have that swoon-worthy dimpled grin showing because he was worried about her.
“Honey?” Raine prompted gently. “Are you okay with talking about it?”
Tate shrugged. “Miller assumed I was lying about his mother telling me he was through with me years ago and about the letters being returned. Turns out, his mother is … dying of cancer and wanted to make amends. She apologized for sabotaging our relationship and he apologized for not believing me.” She shrugged again. “That’s it.”
Her friends stared at her in silence.
“No.” Pearce’s firm response startled her.
Wrinkling her brows, she asked, “What do you mean no?”
Folding his arms across his broad chest, he shook his head. “No. I don’t buy it. That was too clean cut.”
“Yep. Agreed. There’s got to be more to it,” Lawson piped up, nodding to Pearce.
“No offense, Tate, but I actually have to agree with the guys on this one.” Laney gave a one-shoulder shrug in response to the look Tate gave her.
Lawson continued. “Yeah, because there had to be some hot sex thrown in there somewhere. All those emotions that have been locked away for so long? Those had to come flying out in the form of ‘Get naked and ready for me, asap’.”
She stared at him, slightly slack-jawed. Because, well, Lawson.
Laney shot a crazy look at their friend before turning back to face her. “Aside from the really poor wording, I think I can speak for all of us when I say we all kind of thought the same thing.”
“Not me.” Raine raised her hand. Shaking her head, she added, “I was hoping for the whole ‘ravishing kiss and sweet, romantic words’ kind of scenario.” Hearing the scoffs from the others, she held up her hands. “What? It’s true!”
Mac spoke up. “Babe, I can do that when we get home, if you want. But—God help me, because I never thought I’d say this in my life—Lawson is right. We were all wondering something along those lines.”
Raine gazed up at her husband, her green eyes wide. “You’ll really say some romantic words tonight?”
Mac smiled and—yep, there it was—his infamous dimple winked at them. He reached out to tuck back Raine’s long, dark hair behind her ear, a tender expression on his face. “I’ll definitely say something romantic tonight.” He leaned closer and they all groaned, expecting to witness some of their typical gagworthy display of affection. Instead, they watched as Mac said in a loud whisper, “I’ll light some candles and say, ‘Woman, go grab me a beer.’”
“Oh, you!” Raine swatted him, barely restraining a smile.
Her husband tugged her to him, wrapping an arm around her before pressing a kiss to her forehead, chuckling softly. “You know I’m kidding.”
“So, be honest,” Lawson leaned forward in his chair expectantly. “Heavy makeout sessions? Petting with clothes on? Dry humping?” Turning to look at Pearce and Zach, he said, “There had to be dry humping, at least, right? I mean, come on.”
Tate slumped in her chair, hiding her face in her hands, groaning, “Oh, my God. Why do I have friends who demand to know if I dry humped?”
“Because we love you and are invested in your life.”
Tate’s head shot up to stare at Lawson. Because that was actually a really sweet answer.
He made a face as if he were ill. “Bleh. Now that I’ve admitted that, can we get back to what happened?”
Letting out a small sigh, she glanced around at her friends. “Nothing happened. The three of us talked a while, Mrs. Vaughn and I talked for a bit privately, and then they left.” She gave a tiny shrug. “That’s it.”
“Guess that would be kind of awkward with his mom around, huh?” At Lawson’s remark, Pearce gave a loud snort.
“Gee, do you think?” Zach asked, sarcasm lining his tone.
Lawson sighed dramatically. “Well, I guess that means Miller continued operating in SPM.”
They all exchanged confused looks. Mac ran a hand over his square jaw, giving a slight wince before he spoke. “I know I’ll regret asking this, but what is SPM?”
Lawson leaned back, crossing his arms proudly, cocky grin in place. “Self-pleasure mode, of course.”
Collective groans sounded. Because, seriously. She had to be the only person on this earth whose friends asked her about dry humping and used abbreviations for “self-pleasure mode”.
“Laws,” she said with a part laugh-part groan, “they broke the mold with you, buddy.”
He smiled back at her. “Dang straight, honey. Dang straight. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Shaking her head with a laugh, she had to admit it. He was right. She wouldn’t change him—or any of her friends—for the world.
It wouldn’t be totally heartbreaking if he discontinued the dry hump talk, though.
Tate,
Today was hectic. We ended up doing some training drills, boarding one of the SSGN submarines off the coast of Key West. I still hate the damn lockout chambers. I don’t get that claustrophobic feeling any other time except in that damn thing. Hendy loves to mess with me about it, too. That guy might be one of the biggest jokers on earth but nothing gets past him. He’s got to be one of the best SEALs I’ve come to know. Hell, all these guys are great. I’m lucky to have them.
Doc’s got this girlfriend and they’ve been doing the long-distance thing for some time. The rest of us don’t get a good vibe from what he’s been saying about her, but he’s so far gone over this chick that he can’t—or won’t—see it. When Hendy doesn’t have a good feeling about something or someone, you pay attention. That dude is always right. Creepy as hell that he has that kind of sixth sense or whatever, but it’s spot on. Saved us many times.
God, look at me. How pathetic is this that I’m writing this long ass letter that I’ll never mail. Just to feel closer to you.
I’ve got to let you go, T. Somehow, I’ve got to.
M.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“YOUR GIRL IS LOOKING QUITE chummy over there with Hadley.”
Miller’s hand clenched harder around his bottle of beer at Kane’s casually voiced observation.
“Tate Hadley. Huh. Has a nice ring to it, don’t ya think?”
His hand clenched the bottle tighter.
“Really don’t want to have to head to the ER for you to get your hand stitched up.” Kane’s tone held amusement. “Might want to ease up your grip, buddy. Along with that thousand-yard stare.”
He cast a dark glare at his friend before his gaze re
turned to the scene on the dance floor of Shenanigans. Tate laughed happily, her blonde hair flowing over her shoulders as Hadley twirled her while Zach sang a Keith Urban song. Zach’s own gaze was centered on his fiancée, who was seated at the other end of their table, looking on adoringly.
He felt Kane lean in close. “You do realize that there’s such a thing called ‘cutting in’, right?”
Without a word, even though he noted that it was near the end of the song, Miller scooted his chair back to stand, and nearly stomped over to where Hadley was currently spinning Tate around on the dance floor. When he came within two feet of them, Laney had just taken the stage to sing Selena Gomez’s “What The Heart Wants”. He nearly laughed at the song, title so fitting for him, for how he felt.
Pearce noticed his approach and appeared as though he were fighting off a smile, briefly nodding before turning back in the direction of their table. Tate’s eyes were wide as she looked up at him. Without a word, he slid an arm around her waist, tugging her to him, other hand coming up to carefully slide her hair over her bare shoulder, letting his fingertips graze her skin. She wore a strapless, turquoise printed sundress, her bare shoulders on display with only a simple turquoise beaded necklace adorning it, lying against her collarbones. The same collarbones that had been taunting him, begging for him to press his lips against them, had him dying to run his tongue over them.
Shit. He was getting hard over fucking collarbones. If that didn’t communicate just how far gone he was over this woman, he didn’t know what would.
Pulling her closer, pressing his nose to the top of her head, he inhaled her trademark mango scent, closing his eyes in reverence. She felt so good—so right—in his arms. Before he knew it, the song was over and someone else had taken the stage to sing a faster-paced song, Macklemore and Ryan Lewis’ “Can’t Hold Us”. Tate backed away from his embrace and appeared about to speak when she was interrupted. By Hadley, no less.
“Hey, babe! Time to get our groove on,” he called out to her.
And that, right there, was when Miller had officially had enough.
Grasping Tate’s hand, he tugged her to him. A bit too roughly, if her stumble was any indication. “I need you to come with me. Now.” He gave the briefest pause, allowing her an “out”. When he watched her eyes widen, darkening with awareness, lips parting, he took that as acquiescence.
Without looking at Hadley, he yelled to be heard over the music, “Sorry, man. She’s going with me, right now.”
Miller didn’t wait for a response as he held firm to Tate’s hand, navigating their way through the karaoke bar and the adjoining sports bar to approach the exit. Leading her around the corner to a small alley between Shenanigans and the small café, which was now closed, the silence engulfed them in contrast to the music surrounding them just seconds beforehand. Luckily, it was a relatively clean alley since Fernandina Beach’s beautification club took things seriously and attempted to keep every nook and cranny of the beach town clean.
“Miller, where are—”
Her words were cut off as he backed her up against the cool brick exterior, taking her mouth in a kiss which could be classified as devouring. Devouring, because that’s exactly what it felt like he was doing at that exact moment: devouring Tate Donnelly.
Taking advantage of her gasp when he pressed his body against hers, knowing she felt his prodding hardness, he slid his tongue inside. And he damn near groaned louder than ever before because, he wasn’t sure how it was even possible, but he swore she tasted even sweeter. His fingers slid into her hair, tugging her head to the side to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue against her own, hardening even more at the sound of her moans. When she grasped his ass in his jeans—jeans Kane had told him he’d “had” to wear that night—he groaned into her mouth as she tugged him even closer, arching against his hard cock.
She broke the kiss, her lips brushing against his own with each word. “I’ve wanted to touch you, to grab your ass, all night.” Her eyes met his and he saw the combination of arousal and humor in them. “You look too damn good in these jeans, Vaughn.”
Well, hell. Guess he needed to thank Kane for making him wear them.
“Yeah?” He pressed into her and saw her gaze go nearly molten. “Well, you’ve been driving me crazy in this dress.” He lowered his lips to her collarbone and darted his tongue out to taste it, hearing her gasp at his touch. “I’ve been dying to taste you here.”
Miller heard her take a shallow breath. “Is that the only place you’ve been dying to taste?”
Oh, hell. His girl had just thrown down the gauntlet.
Raising his head slightly to meet her eyes, he answered her, his voice gravelly, “Definitely not the only place, T. Definitely not.” He let his fingers trail down over the soft skin of her shoulder, grazing over her breast, brushing the pad of his thumb over her nipple, before descending lower. Lower.
“No?” Her voice was breathless.
Shaking his head slowly, Miller allowed his hand to slide beneath the hem of her dress, gliding up one smooth thigh to where a small scrap of fabric covered her center. Damn, she was on fire, heat radiating from her core.
Toying with the fabric, he pressed his lips to her earlobe before whispering, “If I slide my finger underneath your panties … if I slide a finger inside of you, will you be wet?”
He heard her let out a tiny moan before she answered, “Yes.”
“And how wet will you be?”
“You need to find out for yourself, Vaughn.” She tried to take on a commanding tone but it came out breathlessly.
“Should I find out with my finger? Or with my tongue?”
He watched as her eyes pressed closed as if in pain, chest heaving slightly as she bit out the words, “I. Don’t. Care.”
Though they were mostly shrouded in darkness, he moved his body to shield her from anyone who might walk past. Sliding one long finger beneath her panties and inside of her, he couldn’t withhold his own groan. Holy shit. She was fucking soaked.
“Oh, T. You’re soaking wet.” He pressed kisses along the column of her neck as he slid his finger in and out of her in a slow, leisurely manner before adding another finger. “Does that feel good?”
It took a moment for her to answer. Head thrown back against the brick wall, body arched, eyes closed, she replied, “Yes. God, yes, Miller.”
“Hey! There you two are. Oh, shi—”
Raine’s voice startled them, as Miller withdrew his fingers from Tate with a near groan, thankful he’d had the presence of mind to shield Tate from view. Of course, it was still obvious they were in an embrace, of sorts.
“Sorry! I totally didn’t see anything. Nothing. No hot close-like embracing or anything. Right. I’ll see you inside.” Raine’s words were rushed and awkward, bringing forth a tiny laugh from Tate. Still leaning against the building’s exterior, he saw her eyes open, watching him carefully.
“Well. That was terminated well before I had planned. But at least I still get a taste, after all.” At her confused look, he lifted the hand he’d had beneath her dress, lifted the fingers he’d had inside of her to his lips to slide them inside his mouth. Tasting her on his tongue, he sucked her essence from his fingers, eyes locked with hers. Seeing her blue gaze grow hazy with lust because of him nearly drove him over the edge.
Shit. He hadn’t been this hard, hadn’t felt like he was one kiss away from coming in his fucking pants in … well, ever.
“You’re leaving with me tonight.” He knew it was a caveman-like thing to say, but fuck it. He needed her. After all that had transpired, he just needed her. Plain and simple.
“I have to tell Pearce first. Since I hitched a ride with him tonight.”
Miller felt his spine stiffen at the mention of Hadley.
“Are you two …” He trailed off. It pained him to even think of finishing his question. Even though Hadley had said they were strictly friends, Miller felt like he needed further affirmation.
&nbs
p; Blue eyes held his own. “Would that bother you?” Her voice was faint, question posed softly.
“Hell yes it would,” he answered without hesitation.
The edges of her lips turned up slightly. “Why’s that?”
Because you’re it for me, Tate Elaine Donnelly. Startled at the words that had come out of nowhere—words he hadn’t uttered in years—he covered it with a cocky grin.
“Because, you should know by now,” he leaned in to press a kiss to her lips, “I don’t share what’s mine.”
* * *
“Holy crap, Vaughn. Slow down. I’m about to face-plant—”
Miller promptly cut off her protest as he swung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold, wrapping a strong forearm over the back of her legs. Giving her a playful swat on the ass, he carried her up the stairs to her house.
“Woman, don’t you dare slow me down. Not at a critical time like this.”
Critical time? What the hell was he talking about? Before she could pose the question, he answered.
“I’ve wasted over a decade. I’m not about to waste any more time, T. No more.”
Tate felt her insides turn to absolute mush at his words. Her eyes fell closed, lips forming a sweet smile. God, she had missed this. Even after all the time that had passed, her heart recalled the feelings evoked from Miller’s sweet words.
Easily sliding her down his body to stand at her door, his eyes held hers as he softly demanded, “Keys.”
Unhooking the clasp of her key chain from the strap of her small clutch purse, she placed her keys in his hand and watched as he unlocked and opened her door. Her eyes took in his profile, the straight nose, those full lips she knew were the softest she’d ever kissed, and his strong, chiseled jaw. And those lashes of his that showcased eyes which competed with the ocean for its blueness. Finally, her eyes raised to take in Miller’s dark hair, the same hair that she ached to run her fingers through. Could imagine grasping it while he used that talented tongue of his to taste her and—
“Tate.”