His cries are soft, barely audible, but his body shakes with them.
I rub his back gently as he clings to me, his body like dead weight as he leans against me. My heart breaks as I listen to him, and my hands slide up his back to cradle his head, pressing my mouth to his ear as I shush him quietly.
He feels giant in my arms, but I don’t let go. I hold onto him, whispering reassurances against his head, fighting back tears of my own.
I can’t cry; he needs me. He needs me to be that rock for him now, something to cling to in this chaos.
Tate pulls back faintly, sniffling, and I expect him to look up at me, but he doesn’t. His puffy eyes stare straight at my lips, his own parted as he pants heavily. Tears streak his flushed face, trailing down his cheeks to his lips.
I know that look.
That look of pain.
That look of being so desperate to distract yourself from it that you’ll do anything.
And before I know it, he’s smashing his lips into mine so hard that it throws his glasses off center, his arms circling around my waist and pulling me closer. I taste the saltiness of his tears on his mouth, but I can’t bear to break away from him when I hear the small moans leaving his throat. I melt into him, knitting my fingers in his hair as I kiss him back.
“Maeve,” he mumbles against me, and I can hear the ache in his voice.
I know what it’s like to seek solace in someone else, someone who you think can take that pain away. I’ve found a lot of solace that way, but it never lasts. He might think this is the way to make the pain go away, but I’ll just end up making it worse.
“Tate,” I whine, breaking the kiss. “Wait?—”
“Please,” he croaks, his hands squeezing my hips. “Please. I just need to f-feel something other than this.”
Something about the pleading tone in his voice makes heat plummet between my legs, betraying me in the worst way. I fight the urge to squeeze my thighs around his abdomen as he rests between them, peering up at me through wet lashes, his eyes looking the softest they ever have before. Pulling at my heartstrings.
“And what if I just make you feel worse?” I squeak out.
“You never make me feel worse.”
“Tate,” I say with a tiny growl, pushing on his chest. “I’m serious. I’m not taking your virginity because you’re sad and I’m…here.”
He sniffles again, but his lip twitches faintly in the corner as the crease between his brow disappears. “But…I didn’t say anything about that.”
I give him a pointed look.
He leans forward, resting his chin just above my breasts on my chest, peering up at me with eyes that have a teasing glint to them. His glasses are slightly crooked, and for some reason, my stomach flutters at how cute he is like this.
His cheeks flush a deep red as he mutters, “I wanted you to take my virginity even when I wasn’t sad.”
I cock my head knowingly down at him. “Are you being cheeky, Clark?”
“Is it w-working?”
Holy shit.
My head falls back as a laugh slips through my lips, and he takes that opportunity to press a kiss to my neck, catching me off guard as my laughter halts abruptly. The butterflies that spiral to my core have me gasping, and this time, I can’t stop my legs from clamping around him.
“Tatum,” I pant as he trails kisses up my neck. “What is this? Where’s this confidence coming from?”
He immediately pulls back, eyes wide. “You don’t like it?”
My thighs squeeze tighter to keep him from pulling too far, my fingers fisting his hoodie.Oh, Jesus. He’s broke me.“I do,” I rush out, my nipples hard against the fabric of my shirt from his assault on my neck, “I do like it.”
“You could…” he swallows thickly, his eyes darting down to my chest as his lips part faintly before quickly averting his gaze back up to me, “show me what else you like? I’m a g-good listener. Fast learner.”
The way he’s looking at me…
