God, help me.
“Once we do this,” I say, “there’s no going back, you know? You don’t get a do-over.”
“I don’t want do-overs, Maeve,” Tate urges. “I just want…you.”
What was I saying about not getting physical with him again?
I can’t remember, not with the way he’s looking at me with those big brown eyes.
Be reasonable.
Be logical.
Use your brain, Maeve.
I loosen my fists on his chest, pushing him back once more. “But I don’t have condoms, Tate,” I sigh, biting on my lip. “I mean, I’m on birth control, and I get checked regularly, but I don’t want you to feel like youhaveto?—”
“I trust you.”
I blink, frowning slightly.
“I trust you,” he repeats, “and I’ve obviously…never been with anyone else. So, if y-you’re okay with it, then so am I.”
Fuck, that fire in my belly ignites once more at his words. It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone else that I’m throbbing at the thought of it. There’s a heavy tension in my core at the thought of taking his innocence. He’s more than willing to hand it over to me, and there it is again, his willingness to do whatever I say. Something about that makes me feel feral inside.
There’s a lust-filled haze that takes over my senses; I’m drunk on him.
“You want to come inside me, Tate?”
His breath shudders out in a small gasp at that before he’s nodding.
No turning back.
Releasing the hold I have on him with my thighs, I take my foot, pressing it to his chiseled chest as I push him off the bed slowly. He’s watching me with his lips parted, like drool will come dribbling out any moment.
“Then be a good boy,” I purr, cocking my head at him, “and take off your clothes for me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TATUM
Sunday, December 26th
I’m frozen.
All I can do is stand there, jaw hanging practically to the floor, as I look down at Maeve laying back on the bed, waiting for my next move. Suddenly, I’m nervous, like my confidence from before was just a mirage, like it wasn’t real. She wants me to take offallmy clothes?
I know it’s dark in here, and the only light is coming from the TV, but…the thought of standing in front of her fully naked scares the crap out of me.
“Start with your hoodie,” she encourages softly, licking her bottom lip in anticipation.
With shaky fingers, I reach behind my head, grasping onto my hood and pulling it up and off my body in seconds, so ready to please her, to do what she says, despite how close I am to passing out from lack of oxygen. Throwing the hoodie to the floor, I go ahead and place my glasses on the dresser behind me before looking back at her for direction.
I like when she tells me what to do, guiding me.
“Pants,” she whispers faintly, her eyes perusing up my chest as she speaks.
My erection strains against my jeans as I unzip them, pushing them down my legs and stepping out of them. The air in the room is cold against my bare skin, but I’m still hard as a rock. There’s nothing that could change that, not now, not as I observe the way her gaze falls to it, her eyes lighting up in this dark room.
