“So because you respect my family, you won’t touch me?”
It was a fucking lie and he knew it, because if she kept coming to him, if she kept throwing herself at him, there wasn’t any way he’d be able to tell her no indefinitely. Eventually he would give in because he ached for her, always. He wanted to get to know this new Tatum, wanted her to decide on her own if she wanted to be with someone like him. Meaning his past, thorns and all. He was pretty sure she hadn’t heard his life story like most everyone else had.
The bitch of the whole thing?
He didn’t deserve her. Not being the guy he was. Not from the beginnings he’d come from. Thanks to his brother, Cash, he’d grown up to be a good man, but it didn’t change his pedigree. Didn’t change that he came from a man who liked to beat on women. That was reason number one why he never kept women around for longer than a few nights. That temper lived in him, he’d felt it more than once. He’d never raised his hand to a woman, but damn if anger didn’t course through his body sometimes. Luckily he’d found an outlet with boxing, riding his bike, and the pickup games of basketball he played in still. By all accounts, he should have a weekly appointment with Doc Jones, but he couldn’t bring himself to let anyone else know his damage. It was bad enough that it rolled around in his head, forcing him to keep away from the one thing he wanted most in the world. All he knew was sometimes that anger was uncontrollable and he had to be alone. What if he was with her, and she wouldn’t leave him alone when that anger swirled up in him?
He didn’t know what to do with the feelings when they got to be so strong. The only thing he’d found that worked was solitude. And what happened when she wanted to help him through it? What happened when this little spitfire refuse to leave his side? He was afraid to find out the answer. Eventually, he knew he’d have to face his issues head on but he didn’t trust himself with Tatum Walker as he was now, and that was the reality he had to live with.
Clearing his throat, he took a step to the side so he could put some distance between them. Closing himself off, he crossed his arms over his chest, trying to give the impression he wasn’t interested anymore. He should get a fucking Oscar. “It’s not respect Tatum, it’s the fact I don’t trust myself with you.”
There it was, a half-truth hanging between the two of them.
She gave him a smirk and a soft look. “That’s okay, I trust you with everything. You have to know that Rem.”
He had to put a stop to this, no matter how hot she looked, no matter how good she tasted. She obviously thought she could change him, fix him… no matter what was wrong with him – her love would change him and they would be happy together. He’d seen in too often in too many relationships. Putting the brakes on this was the best thing to do for both of them. “That right there tells me I can’t trust myself – because you do.”
He turned his back to her, walking to the door. “Tell Harper I said bye.”
“Tell her yourself,” Tatum fired back, a bit of her normal personality showing through.
“Kiddo,” he searched her face until she met his eyes. “Don’t give me your trust. You don’t know what you’re handing to me, and I sure as fuck don’t deserve it.”
He walked out of Southern Delights before he was tempted to go back across the room and kiss her senseless one last time. The best thing he could do for himself, for her, was stay the fuck away from her. She was a temptation he couldn’t afford to give into, because he knew one thing better than he knew anything else. If he ever did find himself inside her, balls deep, panting against her throat while she scratched her nails down his back, screaming in pleasure? He’d sure as fuck never let her go.
Chapter Forty-Seven
He should have brought a date. Those were the first words Remy thought when he walked through the door of the clubhouse. It hit him like a ton of bricks, and all he wanted to do was turn around and head back to Cash and Harper’s. Normally, he lived at the clubhouse, but he’d had dinner at their place tonight. He could relieve the babysitter watching Maddy, and he wouldn’t have to worry about keeping his guard up.
Couples were paired off, which meant anyone without a plus one would be inevitably thrown together. Looking up, he saw mistletoe was hung randomly around the room. Shit. Since he was the youngest, he seemed to be one of the few without a woman on his arm. Sure as the world turned, he’d find himself thrown toward someone tonight.
Gazing around the room, he didn’t see Tatum and for that he was extremely thankful. He’d been able to avoid her since the day at Harper’s bakery, but it’d hadn’t been easy. Not that she’d gone out of her way to be around him but they were in the same places and situations a lot because of the club, and she helped Roni handle the paperwork in the office. If he continued to avoid the office like the plague, someone was going to suspect something was up. His luck it would be Tyler and he knew he wouldn’t be able to lie to him.
“You want a beer?” Drew asked as he came to stand next to him, slinging an arm around his shoulder.
A beer wouldn’t begin to get him through this night, no doubt about that. “We got anything stronger?” he asked.
A smile slid slowly across Drew’s face. “We got us some Pappy Van Winkle, but hardly anybody will drink it with me.”
Remy was down for that, anything to help the nervous energy he felt knowing he’d see Tatum tonight. “Let’s pull up some seats and raise our glasses to our Savior.”
Drew clapped him on the back and led him over to the bar. Remy knew in his bones that Drew wouldn’t be this close to him, wouldn’t be drinking with him, and sure as hell wouldn’t be celebrating with him if he knew Remy’d had his tongue down Tatum’s throat a week and a half ago. So far, it appeared that was his and Tatum’s secret and Remy intended to keep it that way.
“How short is this?” Tatum asked as she turned to Addie, bending slightly over at the waist.
The two of them were in Tatum’s room at the Walkers’ house, getting ready for the Christmas party. The dress she wore was one she’d worn before, but it had been over a year, and apparently she’d still been growing because it was shorter than she remembered it being. Luckily for her, it wasn’t snowing or below zero outside.
“Be careful bending over, but if you wanna get Remy’s blood boiling, please bend over in front of him. He’ll get a glimpse of it all,” Addie grinned, giving her a look. Addie was privy to everything going on between her and Remy because they were friends and Tatum knew that Addie would never judge her and would keep any secret she asked her to.
Remy. Remington Sawyer. There had never been another man in her life who made her so frustrated. Always, she’d been Liam’s little girl and Drew’s little sister and she was used to getting her way. There weren’t many men who told her No; not many women either, come to think of it. Not to say she was a spoiled brat… exactly. Tatum preferred to think of herself as stubborn and knowing exactly what she wanted. Since she’d been a kid she’d known not only what was expected of her, but what to expect from others. So far, there had been no event able to change her mind or her vision of where Tatum the adult would land. Tatum Walker knew who she was, what she wanted, where she was going, and how the fuck she was going to get there.
Since they’d kissed in the bakery, she’d thought back through every tiny detail of it more times than she cared to count. She could still feel his lips on hers, could feel the dig of his fingertips in her flesh if she thought back hard enough. She’d woken up from dreams hot, panting, her body screaming for a release she couldn’t give herself. Nothing felt as good as being with him did. She’d made up her mind—Remy was it for her, but damn he wasn’t going to be easy to convince.
She didn’t answer Addie as she smoothed the skirt down, over her hips, making sure to cover the white thong she wore. She’d contemplated going commando because of the almost see-through fabric of the dress, but with it being so short, she’d decided against it. Tousling her hair the way Christine had shown her, she gave the strands a
coat of hair spray. It was a light formula; she could still run her fingers through it – hoped Remy would be running his fingers through it by the end of the night. Lifting up two tubes of lipstick, she raised a dark eyebrow at Addie.
“Pale pink innocence or red-hot Lolita?” she asked, running the liquid lipsticks between her palms, warming them up. She loved the liquid formula, but she knew she’d have one shot to get it right. Her look tonight had taken every bit of makeup knowledge she had.
“In that white dress, with that dark, smoky eye, and those fuck-me heels? Girl, you are red-hot Lolita the whole way. The only thing you’re gonna have to worry about is if some guy sees you before Remy does. And don’t worry, when I walk in, I’ll make sure to keep your Dad and brother pre-occupied until you can get Remy alone. You owe me for this,” Addie gave her a side-eye. “Big time.”
Red-hot Lolita. Tatum grinned. She sure as hell was.
“I’m not overdressed am I?” Tatum asked, looking down at the little black dress Addie wore.
“Hell no,” Addie grabbed her purse, shaking her head. “You know, if there were someone in the club I was interested in, I’d be dressing the same way as you. But you know I don’t want some guy that thinks of my dad as Yoda.”
Tatum giggled. “Tyler does kinda act like it half the time and I wish I did like some guy who wasn’t involved in the club. I worry about Dad and Drew, how they’re gonna react, but I can’t help it,” she pushed her hair back from her face. “There’s something about Remy I can’t let go of. I tried to tell myself it’ll be better for everyone if I just let it go, because if it goes bad between us, it’s gonna be really bad.”
“But you like to play with fire,” Addie supplied.
She did and so far she hadn’t gotten burned, but she knew her time might come someday but that was a long way off and she wasn’t going to worry about it now.
Chapter Forty-Eight
He knew the second she walked in, just like he’d known when she’d entered the bakery. Even seven shots of Pappy in, he could feel her, he knew she was there by the way the hair on the back of his neck stood up, the goosebumps he got on his arms and the way his dick stirred to attention. He wasn’t sure what kind of hold Tatum Walker held over him, but it was strong, maybe dangerously so, like some sort of Jedi Mind Trick he’d never be able to resist. And dammit if his hand didn’t shake as he took his next shot.
“Too much for you?” Drew asked as he noticed the slight tremble of the other man’s hand.
How did he tell the man sitting beside him, he was hard up for his little sister? Easy. He didn’t.
“Nah, I’m good, but I gotta hit the head. Be back.”
Plan number two when plan number one didn’t work? Run and hope she wouldn’t follow. As much alcohol as he had consumed, he wasn’t sure he could push her away this time. After all, he was only a man and he wasn’t immune to the way she looked at him, the way she reacted to him, and the way she came on to him. He didn’t even allow himself to look over his shoulder to, see how she was dressed. He just flat-out walked away.
“Here’s your chance,” Addie hissed as she spotted Remy making a run for it. “He’s going to the garage. Nobody’s gonna be out there.”
Addie was right. The garage was heated but it was still chilly during the winter. Now that most of the guys were older, they liked to stay warm whenever possible. Hoping no one was watching, Addie thrust a drink in Tatum’s hand and shoved her towards the hallway leading out to the garage. She walked as slowly as she could force herself to, when really what she wanted to do was run after him. Attempting to calm herself down Tatum forced herself to take a minute, take a deep breath, gulp down the glass of alcohol then open the garage door.
The door hinges sounded so loud in the silence of the garage and she wished she wasn’t making such an entrance, but what was she gonna do and maybe here he couldn’t run away from her again.
As she turned the corner to the back of the garage where they had an extra fridge, a couch, and a deep freezer – she spotted him.
The two of them stared at each other in silence.
He was hotter than she remembered him being even a few days ago. He’d trimmed his goatee up and it looked like he’d trimmed the sides of his hair. The overall length fell to his shoulders, but the sides were buzzed. It drove her nuts, but on nights like this, it gave him a bad boy look she couldn’t get enough of. The gray shirt he wore showed off his green eyes and the tight fit showed how hard it was for him to breathe right now. She hoped like hell it was because of what he saw when he looked at her.
“Remy?” The word was a question, and she waited. Waited to see how he’d respond.
If he’d thought she looked sexy standing in his sister-in-law’s bakery, nothing had prepared him for how she looked right now, in this instant.
“Tatum, this isn’t a good idea,” he tried to warn her.
He was hot, so fucking hot. Probably from the alcohol he’d consumed, but damn she was burning him up. Either because of the coolness of the garage or because of her reaction to him, her nipples pebbled visibly against the white fabric of her dress. And goddamn, that fucking dress?
It should have been registered on its own sex offender database, because anyone who looked at her wearing it, was one hundred percent imagining what she looked like out of it. Or even half-way out of it. He had the most intense visual of her straddling his lap with the top of the dress pulled down, the edge of her bra exposed, and his tongue swirling against that hard nub poking out at him.
He watched the way she squared her shoulders and right in front of him she became a woman determined to have what she wanted. It heated his skin even further, and he took his cut off, throwing it against the back of the couch, before rolling up the sleeves on the shirt he wore.
“Don’t make decisions for me Remy. I know what’s a good idea for me and what’s not. I’m an adult. Eighteen and everything. I’m a grown ass woman with my own car, my own bank account. I even know how to pleasure myself. But do you know what I want more than anything?” she phrased it like a question, hoping he would take the bait as she advanced slowly.
He swallowed hard, bringing the palm of his hand down to adjust his erection into a more comfortable position behind his zipper. “W-what do you want more than anything?”
She’d gotten close enough that they were just a breath away from each other, and because she couldn’t handle it anymore, she reached out, touching his neck the way he’d touched hers in Southern Delights, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “I want you. I want you to touch me. I want you to give me the orgasm I’m so good at giving myself.”
“I’m goin’ to hell,” she heard the whisper seconds before he curled one hand behind her neck and curled the other around her hip, pulling her so that their two bodies might as well have been one.
Remy knew he was a goner as soon as his lips touched hers.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Tatum had never felt anything like the all-consuming lust that blasted through her as soon as Remy grabbed her hip and pulled her deep into his body. She’d thought she had but damn, she was wrong. Her fingers grasped at his shirt, trying to ground herself in the feelings, when she felt his bare palms slip up under the hem of her dress. The sharp intake of breath, and the way he nipped at her lip indicated he’d discovered she’d worn a thong.
“Fuck, Tate,” he moaned as he pulled his lips from hers.
She almost cried as he abandoned her lips and smeared his mouth down her neck. She felt the sharp nip of his teeth down to the core of her body. It caused her nipples to tighten further against the lace of strapless bra, and before she knew what she was doing, she was rubbing up against him.
“Please, Rem,” she gasped out when she felt one of his hands on her ass venture back over her hip, and closer to the wetness and heat she felt between her thighs.
“Has anybody touched you?” he growled the question into her ear.
“A little,” she admitted. Of course
she’d experimented, but no one had ever given her the feelings he did.
Grasping her chin, he forced her eyes to meet his. She loved the look there, the burning intensity she saw.
“Forget anyone else’s touch before mine,” he nipped at her lips. “I’m going to ruin you for anyone else.”
She knew without a doubt he would and that was just what she wanted.
Tatum was the hottest thing he’d ever seen, and no matter how long or hard he kissed her, she didn’t lose that fuck-me red color on her lips. What he wouldn’t give to see it spread against his cock as she held his length in her mouth. Not sure either one of their legs would hold them up any longer, Remy moved backwards, pulling her along with him until his knees hit the couch. Having a seat, he hissed, before standing up again.
“Dick’s so hard I can’t sit down,” he mumbled before he let go of her hand and wrenched the button holding the denim together apart, unzipping his pants and pushing them slightly over his hips.
He caught sight of Tatum’s hungry gaze on the hard length that was just begging for her attention.
“One day, Tate, we’ll have time and you’ll be old enough.”
Was he crazy? What was this shit he was spewing from his mouth? He didn’t even recognize it. All he knew was he had to feel her skin, he had to show her what an orgasm he could give her would be like, and fuck he had to come too, because if he didn’t he was going to kill someone.
Sitting back down on the couch, he grasped her hips and pulled her across his lap, making her straddle the cock that – even in his boxers – tented out lewdly.
“Don’t worry about that right now,” he told her as she worked her hand down his body. Instead he grabbed her hand and put it on her left breast.
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