He smirks. “I bought them the week you moved in, so we’re good.”
Another wave of heat moves through me. Even back then, he was thinking about this.
“How do you want it?” he asks, climbing over me.
“I want you on top,” I admit. “I want you to take me however you need.”
His jaw tightens and he exhales hard, like he’s struggling. “I’m going to fuck you into the mattress, honey.”
I smile, a rush of relief in my veins. “I want that, too. That’s exactly what I want.”
Tate Ward, uninhibited. Feeling safe enough with me to let himself enjoy me.
He laughs helplessly before looking down between us and rubbing the tip of his cock down my center. My breath catches, my lips part, and I make an embarrassingohwhimper as he presses delicious friction to my clit.
The noise breaks the last remnants of his control, because he lines himself up with me. With heavy eyelids and a frown of concentration, he studies my face as he nudges inside.
An intenselyfullfeeling spreads through me as he pushes inside, half-pleasure and half-pain. Slowly, he pulls out and presses back in.
“Too much?” he asks.
“Yes,” I manage, arching. “Too big. Way too big.” But when he starts to pull back, I tighten my grip on his back, my nails digging into his skin. “It’s good,” I rush out. “It’s so good, Tate.”
“Your nails,” he groans. “That alone is going to make me come.”
“Keep going,” I beg, and he nods, breathing hard like he’s struggling.
Slowly, way too fucking slowly, he pushes inside me until the feeling of his cock is so overwhelming I can barely breathe.
“Still okay?” His voice is hoarse, and I nod, tilting my hips to get him deeper. “You are so fucking tight,” he says, swallowing, his eyes on me. “So fucking tight and warm and wet. Better than I even dreamed.”
His words send more electricity through my blood, more heatpooling around the base of my spine, and he shudders as my muscles clamp around him.
Tate spends a few agonizing minutes letting me adjust to him—he won’t go fast no matter how hard I plead or try to spur him on by squeezing around his length—and finally, when I’m a begging, breathless, desperate mess, when my thoughts are scattered and my skin is hot and my release is so fucking close, he begins to fuck me harder. His hand drifts to where we join, fingers swirling against my slick nerves, and the pressure inside me grows.
“Jesus Christ,” he groans against my temple as he finds a faster rhythm. I can see his control slipping in the way his jaw flexes, the way he clutches me harder.
He pulls my leg up over his shoulder, his hand returning to my clit, and suddenly, he hits that much deeper, stimulating a spot that shoves me over the edge and into a free-falling, full-body orgasm. Pleasure tightens through my body and I’m gasping Tate’s name as he fucks me through it, memorizing all the things he says about me, how good and wonderful and perfect I am.
His orgasm follows, and he tenses as his face falls to my neck, groaning against my hot skin, his arms wrapping around me to hold me tight while he lets go.
After, Tate pulls me against his chest, and I listen to his steady breathing, staring at the stars through the windows as he falls deep asleep.
I’m falling in love with him. I don’t know what the future looks like, but I know Tate needs to be in it. And Bea. Of course Bea.
And probably that stupid cat.
Now, I need to find the courage to ask him if I can stay.
CHAPTER 83
TATE
“Hi,”Jordan says in the doorway of my office the next morning, and like it’s an instinct, blood rushes to my groin.
“Hi.” I can’t imagine not seeing her throughout the day. What’s it like for couples who don’t work together? Torture, I’m sure.
We had sex. Full sex. Christ, the sex. The way her cunt felt as I sank deep inside her. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced. And the way she looked up at me, trusting and affectionate.
