Tate approaches me with his hand behind his back. “Pick one.”
“Umm, that one.” I gesture to his left.
Bringing his arm around, he holds Empire Records in his hands.
“Yes!” I fist pump the air. “Have you seen it?” I ask excitedly, hoping I’m going to get to introduce him to the brilliance of the film for the first time.
“No,” he says wearily.
“Don’t be such a girl. You’re going to love it.”
“We’ll see. Let me be the judge of that.”
Settling myself into the corner of the couch, I get comfortable with my legs pulled up under me as I lean on the armrest.
Tate gets the DVD going, which of course is connected to a serious sound system. He joins me on the couch, sitting across from me in the other corner. I smile warmly at him, and without responding in kind, he wraps his hands around my ankles and drags me down the couch towards him.
Positioning me in his arms so we are lying together on the couch, my body curled tightly into his, he whispers, “That’s better. I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate with you all the way over there.”
Snuggling my face into his chest, I love how comfortable I am with him. How it feels like we have done this a thousand times before.
While watching the movie, Tate tortures me with his hands, rubbing them up and down my back from the top of my ass to the tops of my shoulders. He changes up his speed and the pressure of his touch as he goes from running his palm to grazing with his fingertips, but the whole thing leaves my body a well of sensations. Shocks and tremors are on a constant route running through me. Tate’s hard underneath my hip, and I can’t hold back anymore.
Kneeling up above him, I kiss him, hard. I take control for once as I grab his face and force his mouth open with my tongue. He meets me eagerly, and I don’t hold anything back.
I fumble around for his belt buckle, and once my fingers touch it, I am pulling at it and undoing his jeans. He lifts up to help me pull his pants down and I slide them down his thighs. His dick stands tall, covered in his boxers, and I can’t wait to get my hands on it.
Reaching into his boxers, I pull him free and feel him harden even more in my hand. I pull at his boxers until he lifts again, and then I move them out of my way.
“I owe you for the video shop,” I say as I lean down and take hold of him.
“Jesus,” he breathes. “Yes, you do owe me.”
“I do.” I smile and then run my tongue from the base of him to the head, circling around his tip. I continue teasing him, trailing my tongue all over him without actually taking him into my mouth. I work him until he is hard as a rock. Smooth as steel in my hand.
Circling the tip again, I lick the small drop of pre-cum off before slowly inching him into my mouth. I take him as far back down my throat as I can and tighten my grip on him. He breathes heavily, and I steady my pace as I lift and lower my lips onto him.
“Fuck, Harper.” His voice is laboured, and I can’t help but revel in his state of arousal. I feel myself getting wet and it excites me more. My pace speeds up and becomes a little more frantic. This only sets Tate off as he tangles his fingers in my hair, holding either side of my head.
I move faster and hold him tighter, not wanting to tease him, only bring him pleasure. His thighs tense beneath me and he grows even thicker in my hand.
“Fuck, Harper. I’m going to come. Hop off, baby.”
I don’t; I only move faster and suck harder. Knowing it’s not long before he comes, I look up to him from underneath my lashes, wanting to see him. He opens his eyes and looks down to me, and as soon as his eyes meet mine he is calling out his release and I take it eagerly. Swallowing down every last drop.
When Tate’s body relaxes back into the couch, I lick and kiss him clean before I crawl over him and lay on his chest. He wraps his arms tightly around my back and leaves a light kiss on my head.
“God, Harper. That was fucking unreal.”
His eyes are closed and he is still breathing heavy. I take a moment to appreciate it. Appreciate what I do to him.
“Good, now you can relax and enjoy the movie,” I tell him.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. Really wanted to.”
Tate’s eyes shoot open at my admission, and he quirks an eyebrow at me in question. I nod yes to his silent question, and his face lights up. He slides his hand down my spine, over my ass and works his way around to the front of my pants.
He skilfully undoes them and slides his finger in underneath my lacy thong.
“Fuck,” he groans as he runs his finger through my folds. “You’re so fucking wet. Did that turn you on, Daisy? Sucking my cock?”
“Yes,” I breathe, closing my eyes as he slowly slides his finger inside me.
We both groan at the different sensations and Tate speeds up his pace.
“The movie,” I tell him.
“Fuck the movie,” he says, sharply. “I think I owe you now. You well overpaid.”
Tate and I had restarted the movie five times last night and still didn’t get through even half of it. He promised we could finish it today, but with the stamina he showed yesterday and last night, I highly doubt it.
“Wanna go out for breakfast?” he asks. It’s late Sunday morning and we are wrapped up in a tangle of sheets. I breathe heavily and lie limp in Tate’s arms after another vigorous round of sex.
I’ll be pretty shocked if I can still walk by the time I leave here tonight.
“You don’t have to take me out. I’m more than happy to cook you breakfast.”
“I think I need to get you out of here as soon as possible. I can’t seem to keep my hands off you, and you must be sore.” His voice is laced with genuine concern and I smile warmly up at him. “And if I have you in my kitchen, cooking for me, I won’t be able to stop myself from fucking you raw on the kitchen counter.”
I tense at his words. I should be used to his crass talk after last night, but it still shocks me a little bit. I’ve never been with someone so forward and honest. Tate tells me everything he feels and thinks as he feels and thinks it. His honesty means more to me than he could possibly know.
He’s changing me already. I feel it. Changing the way I look at the world. Building the trust back, which I thought had been completely shattered after years of it being tested and trampled on. Not only my trust in him, but in general.
“Come on, then. I guess I can let you take me out.” I go to climb off him and he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me back down onto his chest.
“Not just yet. Cuddle with me for a bit longer.” He kisses my forehead and I smile against his chest. Yes, I could definitely stay like this forever.
After another hour of lying in bed together, making out, and dry humping like teenagers, we finally venture out to shower, which then takes another hour by the time we are dry, dressed, and ready.
“I guess we’re heading to lunch,” I say as Tate grabs his wallet and keys off the counter.
“Why?”
“Because we have more than definitely missed breakfast.” I laugh.
“Baby, if you want breakfast, I’m getting you breakfast.” There is no humour in his tone, and I realise he’s not kidding.
We’re on the bike forty minutes out of town before Tate pulls up in front of a diner with a sign that declares the place ‘serves breakfast all day.’ Switching the bike off, Tate turns to me with the proudest smile on his face. I can’t help but return his smile. He did this for me.
Getting to know Tate has been so unexpected. He isn’t the false sweet talker, smooth player I thought he was. He is genuine and caring. He is sweet and sexy, and he makes me feel important. Makes me feel as if I matter. As if I’m special.
He takes my hand and helps me off the bike. Once he’s off, he undoes my helmet and hangs it over the handlebars, which has now become our own little routine. Maybe I should look into buying myself a helmet.
&nbs
p; Taking my hand in his, he entwines our fingers and leads us into the diner. An older lady greets us and takes us to a booth in the back. Instead of sitting in the seat across from me, Tate slides in by my side. I look to him in surprise as he shoves me to edge of the seat.
“I can’t sit all the way over there when you’re sitting here.”
I roll my eyes at his ridiculous comment. I can’t let him really see what it does to me. Waves of excitement roll through me, and I revel in it.
I love how he not only feels that way about me, but how he’s okay with putting it all out there. He is so confident in himself. Confident in his own thoughts and emotions. Is that how I used to be? Before my self-esteem was stolen, piece by piece by guy after guy? It left me the distrustful person I am now.
Placing his hand on my thigh, he squeezes it as he peruses the menu. A huge smile lights my face as I stare at him. He doesn’t even glance my way, and I take the opportunity to take him in. God, he is perfect, and I can’t believe that he wants me.
Looking my way, he gives me a warm, crooked smile and squeezes my thigh again. I place my hand on top of his and entangle our fingers. Holding on tight and not letting go until our orders arrive and we begin eating, and only then because I can’t eat left-handed.
“So, tell me more about your parents,” Tate says.
“There’s not too much to tell. I was their miracle baby. After seven years of trying, they finally gave up, and then a month later found out I was on my way.” I sigh. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I was what they were expecting. Even as a baby I was a handful, and I don’t think it ever changed.”
“I think that’s what makes you special.”
“You think I’m a handful?”
“No,” he laughs. “You just don’t fit the normal mould.”
I give him a thankful smile. “If only my parents felt that way. I know they love me, but they do struggle with my decisions and the way I choose to live my life. In real-world standards, I’m a parents’ dream, but in Talula Springs, I’m an outcast.”
“Do you still talk to them?”
“Yeah, of course. My mum rings once a week like clockwork. Don’t get me wrong; I love them. They are my parents, and they have given me a wonderful life—we just have different ideas, is all.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Yeah, I know. I should probably go visit soon. I am well overdue for a trip home.”
“I’d love to meet them,” Tate says genuinely.
“Ha, I doubt that.” I laugh.
“I would,” he says, his voice stern.
“Yeah, they would love that—me bringing home a tattooed-covered man who wears jeans. Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Hey! Parents love me. I’m pretty charming, babe.”
“Oh, God.” I laugh. “Now I want to take you home.”
“Book it in,” he says smugly.
I shake my head, and he gives me his cocky grin and stabs up some more bacon, shoving the forkful in his mouth.
“What about your family? What was life like for Tate Washington?”
“We were lucky. My parents were great. Supportive of everything we did. Dad worked hard at the café but made sure he was home every night for dinner and on the weekends.” His lips curve up into a small smile. “Mum gave up work when we were young to stay home with us. She was the traditional housewife. Always baking with us and making time to take us to the playground.”
“I would’ve loved to have met them.”
Tate turns to me as if caught up in his own memories, forgetting I was here. “They would’ve loved you.” He leans over and gives me a light kiss on the lips before digging back into his meal.
We chat and laugh the whole time we’re eating. The conversation never dulls and it’s as if we have known each other forever, even though the conversation is still very much based around learning about each other. I have dated a lot, and it has never felt like this. This could be it. Tate could be the one.
Then the same recurring doubt sets in as Tate’s phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket and I faintly lean over to peek at the screen. Stacey. Again. My body tenses and heat warms my skin. Tate looks at his phone before silencing it and placing it back in his pocket. He says nothing and continues eating as if nothing has happened.
I want to know who she is. Who they all are. I want to fucking demand it. But I don’t want to ruin this. I don’t want to be the crazy clingy girlfriend. Except, I am. This is what I’ve turned into after years of being betrayed by men.
I stand without meaning and push at his arm to move him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he stands to get out the booth.
“Nothing. I just need the bathroom.” I don’t look at him. I can’t. I’m scared of what I might say. I need to go pull myself together.
Tate nods and stands aside for me to pass. I find the old dingy toilet in the back and head in. Leaning against the sink, I take a few deep breaths. Calm down, Harper. It could be nothing. It could be business or music stuff. It could be the sister he always talks about? Shit, has he mentioned a name when he’s talked about her? But then why wouldn’t he answer the phone in front of me? He always ignores the calls. Has he not told her about me?
Is that worse? He said they were really close. Great, now I have become a completely untrusting psycho, jealous girlfriend. The irony of it is actually quite funny. With Aiden and all the ones before, I was too blind, too ignorant, and too trusting. Now I have gone completely the opposite.
Turning to the sink, I run the cold water. Thankful I didn’t have time to put on make-up today, I splash my face then grab some paper towels to pat it dry. I take one final breath to compose myself before exiting the bathroom.
I find Tate at the booth; his head down, and he’s pushing food around on his plate. When he senses my approach, his worried eyes lift to meet mine.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, babe, I’m fine.” Tate’s eyes soften at the endearment and he pulls me down onto his lap, cuddling me close.
He stabs at a piece of bacon then offers me his fork. I take a bite and moan under my breath. The bacon isn’t that great, but I love the reaction it brings. Tate’s eyes are lowered and full of lust as he watches my mouth.
I slowly circle my hips in his lap, and he groans as he hardens beneath me.
“Harper,” he warns.
“What?” I bat my eyelashes innocently.
Tate slides me off his lap and back into my own seat.
“Your parents are right. You are a fucking handful.”
“I doubt the minister and his wife would word it like that.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, probably not.”
Our banter continues until we have cleaned our plates. Well, me eating as much as I could, and Tate finishing my meal as well as his own.
“Wanna take a walk in the park?” Tate asks as we exit the diner and walk to his bike, hand in hand.
“Yeah, that sounds nice. I need to burn off all those pancakes and bacon anyway.”
He slaps my ass, hard. “You don’t need to burn shit.”
We take the long ride back into the city, and Tate takes every red light and stop sign as an opportunity to touch me—resting his hand over mine, laying his palm on my thigh, lifting my hand to his mouth to kiss . . . I’m surprised by the time we make it back that I haven’t liquefied and slidden off the bike, with the way he melts me.
Tate finds a spot to pull up on the street close to the park as it’s pretty quiet on a Sunday. Once we’re off, he lifts the bike seat and pulls a picnic blanket out. I raise my eyebrows and he smirks. “I keep it for emergencies.”
Nodding, I smile at him and he laughs, grabs my hand, and leads me into the park. He finds an old, large tree with overhanging foliage and spreads the blanket underneath.
“Want to people-watch for a while? We can let our food settle?”
“Thank God,” I breathe. “Would it be totally inappropriate if I
undid my pants?”
Tate throws his head back and laughs. “Probably.”
Shrugging, I join him on the mat, slipping off my shoes and lying across his legs as he’s stretched out on his back, his head resting on his arms.
There are families taking advantage of the beautiful warm weather by kicking balls around, flying kites, and having picnics. Other couples, who seem to have had the same idea as us, are lying on picnic rugs or resting on one of the wooden benches.
Tate brushes a piece of my hair away, which has fallen in my face, and as I watch the people surrounding us, I can sense his fierce gaze.
“Stop staring at me like that,” I tell him, not looking his way.
“I can’t help it.”
My head turns toward him at his serious tone.
“You look so beautiful like this.” He cups my face with his hand and rubs his thumb gently over my cheek.
“Like what?” I whisper, my voice having disappeared.
“Clean face, no make-up. You have perfect, creamy skin. It’s flawless. And with the sun shining on it like it is, you look . . . fucking angelic.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, which I hope Tate doesn’t notice as he sits up to take my mouth with his. His kiss is gentle and coaxing. He slowly nibbles, licks, and sucks my lips and the corners of my mouth. I take it all. Everything he’s offering, I want.
Pulling back, his eyes are serious. There are so many emotions floating through them.
“I don’t want to scare you, Harper. I’m worried I’m going to push you away, but I can’t not say it.” He releases a deep breath. “I’m falling for you, Harper. I’m falling, hard.”
I pull him back down to me and kiss him. Kiss him, hard. I put everything into the kiss that I can’t say. Everything I’m too scared to say. I can’t give it to him yet. Can’t put my already bruised and scarred heart on the line.
Tate holds either side of my face and kisses me back just as fiercely as he manoeuvres out from underneath me and lies on top of me. His hands wander all over my body and I feel him against my thigh. I pull back, both of us breathing hard. “I think we need to take that walk to calm down.”
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