by J. S. Scott
“I can’t grant wishes,” she told him teasingly as she grasped his cock and placed it against her sheath. “I’m not magical.”
“To me you are,” Tate grunted as he guided her down onto him. “Ride me, Lara. Take what you want, whatever you need from me.”
Her heart raced as she looked down into his tumultuous eyes, molten with desire and one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. Her breath caught as he urged her all the way down, completely seating himself inside her.
“I’m feeling very needy.” She rocked her hips.
“Thank fuck,” he groaned. He grasped her ass and rocked her against him again.
Lara started to move, using her bent legs for leverage and balance, and wrapped her arms around Tate’s shoulders. She closed her eyes; she absorbed his essence, let her body undulate with his erotically, satisfyingly, and let him fill her senses completely.
They moved together as one, and Lara savored the slow build of heat, the intimacy of having him inside her, the feel of his hand running up and down her back soothingly. This was no race to the finish line. The urgency was there, but it was as if neither one of them wanted it to end.
Her hands speared into his hair; she brought her mouth down to his and tangled their tongues together in a sensual, intimate dance while she moved harder, faster.
He groaned into her mouth. Tate stroked her ass, finally grasping it as though he had snapped, and lifted his hips to intensify the strength of his entry inside her, fucking her as though he needed her, had to possess her completely.
“Mine,” he ground out as Lara lifted her mouth from his. “You’re mine, baby. I’ll never let you go.”
His dominant words triggered her climax; her body echoed his declaration as she ground against him, trying to claim him as her own with her body.
She wanted.
She needed.
She was desperate.
She was…his.
“Oh, God. Tate.” She panted as ripples became massive waves that crashed over her. She clung to him, threw her head back and screamed as her orgasm tore through her body. She felt Tate shudder against her and follow her over the edge with a groan of ecstasy.
He held her against him covetously, one arm around her waist and the other on her ass. “That was a hell of a lot more than a mile high.”
Lara smiled as she held his head against her breasts. “Definitely,” she agreed, still in a daze, her body limp against his. Still flying above the clouds, Lara wondered whether she’d ever come down again.
“My boss sent me a text. He wants me back in DC soon. We’re shorthanded and he needs me back to work,” Lara told Tate quietly as they ate dinner together later that evening. “I was hoping I’d have more time, but he’s insistent.”
Tate nearly choked on his pasta as he inhaled to protest. He coughed and took a sip of his beer, looking at her before he spoke. “Don’t go back.”
Jesus. I can’t stand the thought of her leaving. The house would be empty without her. I’ll be empty without her.
She looked up at him and placed her fork on her plate. “You know I have to go back home. I have a career, and so do you. I don’t know what you’re still doing with the government, but I know you work a lot with the fire equipment company, developing new products. We both have our own very different lives.”
“I don’t travel much anymore, and I work with research and development in Denver for Colter Fire Equipment. I’m not there every day. I have professionals doing that job. I just give my input, and try to come up with new ideas.”
Shep whined at Lara’s feet, as though he knew what they were discussing. Hell, even his damn dog adored her. She couldn’t leave.
“I take my career seriously, Tate. I’m not a billionaire. My parents weren’t exactly prepared to die at such a young age. I got my degree from my inheritance, but I couldn’t go beyond a bachelor’s degree.” She took a sip of the white wine that she loved she’d found in his wine cellar.
Tate had already put in an order for several cases of the same wine.
“Is that why you joined the FBI?” he asked her huskily.
“Yes and no. I wanted to do something I was passionate about. Obviously I’m passionate about terrorism. Working for the FBI was a reasonable choice.”
“What else were you passionate about?”
“I got my degree in psychology. At one time, I wanted to be a counselor or a psychologist,” she admitted, her voice wistful.
“So do it. Stay here and finish school. Hell, maybe you could fix me.” Lord knew everybody told him he was crazy.
She smiled at him. “There’s not a thing I would want to change. Okay, maybe the cooking thing. But you’re rich. You don’t need to cook.” She picked up her fork again and twirled the pasta around the utensil. “I was hoping to work with abused women to get them out of the cycle of abuse.”
“Why?” Tate was fascinated now.
“I told you that I went to live with my aunt after my parents died. My uncle was abusive,” she answered in a sad voice.
“Did he hurt you?” Tate clenched his fist around the beer he held.
Lara shook her head. “No. But he hurt my aunt. I begged her to leave him, but he always came back and told her he was sorry, that he’d never do it again. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get out of the cycle. I only had to stay there for a little over a year to finish high school before I left for college, and he never touched me. But I wanted to get her out. I couldn’t.”
The regret and sadness in Lara’s eyes made Tate’s chest ache. “Where is she now?”
“She passed away a few years ago of cancer.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” She was damn alone in the world. All Tate wanted to do was hold her, be her confidante when she needed someone. “What’s your life like in Washington?”
“Mostly work.” She shrugged. “You know what it’s like to live for your job. I have a small apartment, my friends at the department. I’m content for now. I want to build up my savings and go back to school eventually. The shelf life of an agent isn’t all that long.”
Tate knew that between burnout and age, being a field agent could be a relatively short career. Agents had to be in top physical condition, and it was a demanding job. “Leave now. Stay with me and go back to school. You won’t have to work, Lara.”
She chewed and swallowed before she answered. “Not happening. I’m not sponging off a friend, even if he is a billionaire.”
“I’m more than your friend,” he rumbled irritably. “I’m one of the founders of a new charitable organization to help abused women. You could work there. Do what you really want to do.”
Her face registered surprise. “You mean the new one being started up by those billionaire brothers in Florida?”
Tate nodded. “Lots of billionaires, and not just in Florida. The Hudsons and the Harrisons are founding members, and so am I. My brothers are getting involved now, too. And Grady Sinclair in Maine.”
“Wow. That’s a lot of firepower.”
Tate smirked, amused by the way Lara measured everything by guns and law enforcement. “You could be part of it. Kade Harrison’s wife was abused, and she’s determined to do everything she can to help battered women get out of their situations. She’d be happy to have somebody trained to work with.”
He saw a flash of longing in Lara’s eyes before she slowly shook her head. “I’d still need more schooling, and I’m not ready to leave my job right now. But I might take you up on your offer in the future.”
Dammit. She was stubborn. Tate didn’t think it was a situation where she didn’t want to leave her job at the FBI, but pure dogged independence. He admired that and hated it at the same time. “When were you thinking about going back?” It ate at him to even think about her leaving.
“Tuesday.”
It was Friday. Dammit. He only had three more days to convince her to stay. He got up to take his dishes to the kitchen, racking his brain for any way to entice her to sta
y with him. Any other solution was unacceptable. “I’ll fly you back. I’d like to see Blake. I talked to him yesterday, but he isn’t exactly very forthcoming with information. I think it would be better if I talked to him in person.”
Lara picked up her own dishes and brought them into the kitchen; she nodded in response.
Honestly, he didn’t plan to take her anywhere at all except to bed, but he’d deal with the travel situation when and if it happened. Right now, he had to find a way to keep her with him.
I’m a goddamn Colter, and Colters never quit, never give up.
He came from a stubborn lineage, men who never stopped trying. It was the reason they were all so wealthy today. Every Colter ancestor had been tenacious—some of them downright cantankerous. But they had never stopped trying to start new businesses, to keep progressing.
Tate hadn’t survived years of nearly suicidal missions only to lose the only woman he’d ever wanted. Not. Happening. Lara was about to find out just how ornery and insistent he could really be.
Sunday afternoon, Lara stood at the picture window of Tate’s home, and watched him walk Shep. She smiled as she saw his lips move; he was talking to the puppy, probably telling the dog how unreasonable she was being.
Tate had spent all day yesterday trying to sell her on the merits of staying in Colorado. After she’d finished with an early-morning session with Chloe at the gym, he’d taken her skiing. By the end of the day, her ass had been bruised and battered, but she’d been able to stay on her skis in an upright position down the beginner slopes. And it had been fun, challenging, and they’d laughed a lot, something she didn’t do a whole lot of in her life up until she’d met Tate.
He’d flown her to Denver for dinner last night, wining and dining her, complete with roses and champagne. He’d been sweet and seductive, bringing her home and taking her straight to bed, where he’d rocked her world all over again.
If he was trying to sell her on Colorado and the billionaire lifestyle, she definitely had no arguments. Tate had an incredible family, a gorgeous home, and she already loved Colorado. It was different from living in Washington, but in a good way. It was peaceful, and Rocky Springs was a wonderful small town.
The problem was…she was in love with Tate Colter.
She sighed as she propped her hip against the window, and watched him patiently wait for Shep to find a place to pee. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to stay; she couldn’t stay. Her heart already felt lacerated and painful. Being around Tate every day and not blurting out exactly how she felt would be impossible.
He wanted her to stay, but that didn’t mean he loved her. Tate didn’t seem ready to love, and she couldn’t stand the agony of loving somebody as much as she loved him and not have the emotions reciprocated.
It’s not his fault that he doesn’t feel the same way.
Lara didn’t blame him. Maybe he wasn’t ready, or maybe she just wasn’t his forever woman. She didn’t regret the time she had spent with him. He’d…changed her somehow, made her feel like a woman. Now that he’d opened a new world to her, she couldn’t go back. And she couldn’t ignore the fact that her heart was wide open to him, and he didn’t want it.
Staying would just be a Band-Aid to her open wound. It might feel better for a time, but in the end she’d be devastated. She’d have to rip off the Band-Aid and let her heart heal—if that was even possible. Somehow, Lara didn’t think she was going to get over Tate Colter anytime soon. She’d never met a man like him, and she knew plenty of guys. He was…unique.
She turned away from the window; her eyes flooded with tears. As she sat down at the table, she swiped them away angrily. The last thing she needed was for Tate to see her crying. He had enough to deal with in his family right now. He didn’t need a pathetic, weepy woman who loved him so much that she could hardly breathe when she thought about leaving him.
At dinner the night before, she’d asked Tate whether he wanted to talk about Marcus. She knew he was torn up inside, but he didn’t want to speak about it. He said it was too soon, and he had to sort out his feelings. He was in denial, and Lara knew Marcus’s betrayal would eventually crash down on him. She wanted to help him, but she didn’t want to push if he wasn’t ready to talk.
Maybe he’ll call me when he’s ready to talk.
One thing was for certain: she’d talk to him about it even if hearing his voice from so far away nearly killed her. He’d need someone to listen when he finally accepted what Marcus had done.
Tate came into the house just then, leaving his boots on the porch and letting Shep off the leash. He took off his jacket and hat; his hair had that spiky style that made her want to jump him. Okay, she always wanted to jump him, but it made the urge even stronger. He looked particularly attractive today in a pair of faded jeans and a tan fisherman’s sweater.
Shep bounded toward her, wiggling at her feet and trying to crawl up the leg of her jeans. She picked him up with a happy laugh and snuggled him against the cotton of her long-sleeved turtleneck. “Why do you always come to me when you’re cold?” She shivered as the dog’s tiny, cold body huddled against her.
“Because you’re so hot. He knows how to get warm. Smart dog,” Tate said with a naughty smirk.
She rolled her eyes at Tate, but she secretly loved it when he inferred that she was attractive. A man who actually treated her as if she was a desirable woman was still a novelty for her, and she ate it up as though it was chocolate.
Lara sneaked a peek at Tate’s perfect, tight ass while he walked into the kitchen to get Shep’s food. The dog leaped off her lap the moment Tate filled the puppy’s bowl. “Abandoned for food,” she grumbled good-naturedly.
Tate looked at her from across the room, his eyes heated. “I guess he isn’t always smart. I’d give up the food to be cuddled up to you in a heartbeat.”
She shot him back a silly grin. “I’m honored.”
Lara startled as the doorbell rang.
“I’ll grab it. It’s probably your mom and Chloe,” Lara said as she hopped up, always glad to see Aileen and Chloe. She hadn’t expected to see them today because she and Tate visited with them at the resort yesterday morning after she and Chloe were done in the gym.
She opened the door with a smile, a happy expression that faded to confusion as she saw a completely different face than the ones she had expected. “Blake? I thought you were still in Washington.”
The expression on Tate’s brother’s face was grim, and he was minus his cowboy hat today. He was dressed in a dark custom suit and a dark wool winter jacket.
“May I come in?” he asked politely.
Lara opened the door and let him step inside.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Marcus?” Tate’s angry voice sounded from behind Lara.
Marcus? This was Marcus?
“Are you sure?” she asked Tate sharply as she stepped back from the man who had just entered and drew her gun from the holster at her back. She was certain Tate was correct. It seemed impossible, but he recognized his own brothers.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Tate answered furiously.
Lara stepped far enough away from Marcus that he couldn’t take her weapon and trained it on him. “You better explain damn fast before I shoot you.” How in the hell had he escaped from prison and made it all the way here to Colorado? And why was he dressed as if he were going to the office?
Marcus’s brows narrowed. “Put the gun down. I’m here to talk. I need to talk to Tate.”
“Talk? You take one step toward him, and I’ll kill you. How did you get out of jail?” she repeated, her aim steady.
“I was released legally,” Marcus replied calmly.
“Bullshit,” Tate exploded as he strode toward Marcus and grasped him by the collar of his jacket. “They don’t release terrorists from prison. Try again.”
“Tate, you’re blocking me. Move,” Lara demanded, antsy because Tate was now in her sights.
Marcus shrugged off Tate’s hold. �
��Just listen to me. I am not a terrorist. I work for the CIA.” He flipped open a leather holder and held up an ID.
Tate ripped it from his hand and scrutinized it thoroughly. “It looks legit,” he told Lara hoarsely.
She moved forward and took it from his hand, recognizing the identification. If it was fake, he had a damn good forger. And what would be the point?
Marcus held out the phone he held in his other hand. “The number for the CIA is in my phone. Call the director. Verify the number and call through the central number, then ask for him. He’s expecting your call.”
Lara dropped his ID on the table, but kept her eyes on Marcus as Tate did exactly as Marcus instructed. He verified the number on his laptop before he called it. She heard Tate talking, but her attention was focused on his brother.
He looked different today, his eyes far from emotionless. Marcus looked tired, and his Colter gray eyes shone with sadness and remorse.
Good Lord…was it actually possible that Marcus was telling the truth? Please. Please. Let it be true. It would mean so much to Tate if Marcus was actually a good guy. But if he was, what the hell was he doing with all of those explosives?
Tate ended his conversation, clicked off the cell phone and handed it back to Marcus. “Put the gun away, Lara,” Tate told her flatly. “He’s telling the truth.”
What. The. Hell.
Lara holstered her gun, still confused. “How? Why?”
Marcus inclined his head to her. “Thank you for not shooting me.”
“Thank Tate. I wanted to shoot you,” she mumbled irritably. After the hell he’d put Tate through, she’d wanted to hurt Marcus. Bad.
Marcus chuckled. “I’m sure you did and probably still do.” He looked at Tate. “You’ve certainly found yourself a loyal woman.”
“She’s fucking amazing,” Tate corrected. “Are you planning on telling me what the hell is going on? Does everyone else know?” He motioned to the table.
They all sat down, and Lara found it surreal that she was actually looking across the table at a man who she’d thought was a terrorist only a short time ago.