“She’s my wife, Tate.”
Present tense, not past.
A knot formed in my throat at the need in his voice. “I understand, Hawke,” I whispered, hoping my words would ease him in some way. And in that moment, I lost a little bit of my heart to the beautiful brooding man who’d loved his wife so much that even ten years after he’d lost her, he refused to let her go.
Chapter 11
HAWKE
“Canyou pull over at the next rest stop?”
The sound of Tate’s quiet, wary voice jerked me from my daze and I glanced at him, but immediately regretted it because another round of shame flooded my entire system followed by a hearty bout of desire as I remembered the feel of his tight body surrounding me in unfathomable heat.
“Yeah,” I murmured and forced my eyes back to the road.
We’d only been on the road for a couple of hours, but it was more words than we’d spoken to each other from the moment we’d both woken up when the alarm clock on my phone had gone off. Of course, I hadn’t actually been asleep. In fact, I hadn’t been able to find even a few minutes of solace in the darkness of sleep last night after Tate had turned the lights off.
I’d fucked another guy.
I’d betrayed my wife.
I’d hurt Tate.
Under other circumstances, I probably could have dealt with the first one, but I was too caught up in the second and third to even contemplate what the whole thing meant in terms of my sexuality.
Something inside of me had snapped when I’d seen Tateholding Revay’s picture. I’d spent the entire day fighting my growing need for Tate as he’d sat quietly next to me in the car and in that moment, it had all come back in a rush along with a heavy dose of guilt and I’d turned my combined sexual frustration and emotional anguish on Tate. And instead of shoving me away, he’d let me in.
I’d already jerked off in the shower to visions of Tate bent over in front of me, but my already half-hard dick had swelled to painful proportions when I’d seen the permission in Tate’s gaze and I’d known that nothing would stop me from taking what he’d been offering. I’d had no control after that.
Absolutely none.
Not even enough to try to find something to use as makeshift lube. My mind had been screaming at me that using spit to ease my entry into Tate’s body wouldn’t work, but I hadn’t cared. My need had been too great and once Tate’s body had engulfed my aching flesh, I’d been a goner and it had been sheer force of will that had given me the strength to stop when the shame of what I’d done had hit me. And then Tate had looked at me and he’d known what I was going through. One nod granting me permission and I’d unleased everything I had on him and had rutted into him like an animal.
And he hadn’t uttered even a single protest.
Revay and I had tried anal sex once early on in our relationship, but it wasn’t something she’d enjoyed and I’d known it had been uncomfortable for her even with generous amounts of lube. So I had no doubt how much pain my actions had inflicted on Tate. And even if I hadn’t known, I wouldn’t have been able to miss the stiffness in Tate’s gait this morning as he’d gotten ready to go. The only good thing, if there could be such a thing, was that I’d been so consumed with lust that I’d come within less than a minute and a dozen strokes.
Without a condom.
And it had been the most explosive orgasm I could ever remember having.
So not only had I betrayed my wife, the sex had exceeded what I’d had with the woman who’d been my entire world.
I hadn’t been able to stay away from Tate when he’d gotten offthe bed to go to the bathroom. All I’d wanted to do was curl into a ball and drown myself in memories of Revay, but my guilt had been a living thing and I’d forced myself to get up and follow him to make sure he was okay. He hadn’t noticed when I’d opened the door and I’d stood there in stunned silence as I’d watched Tate run his fingers over the bruises on his hips where I’d gripped him to keep him from moving away from me. And then he’d looked at me and I’d felt the invisible pull between us that I’d been feeling from the day I’d met him. Everything had floated away in that moment and it had been just me and him, both hurting, both needing something we could only find in each other. So I’d made love to him. Afterwards, I’d wanted to deny that that was what we’d done, but I couldn’t make any other words fit.
It hadn’t been as simple as making out or getting each other off, and it hadn’t been anything like what I’d done to him on the bed because that had been pure, raw fucking. No, it had been more than that. It had been about exploring his body, understanding every line, plane and curve. Feeling every texture, tasting the unique flavors of his mouth, his skin. Hearing every sound he made, the way he begged, the desperation, the way my name sounded when it fell from his lips.
My plan had been to have that moment only be about Tate’s needs, but when he’d struggled to find his own orgasm, I’d needed more. I’d needed to share it with him, so I’d taken us both in hand and for the third time in less than an hour, I’d come again.
It had been fucking perfect.
Until it wasn’t.
Because the memories had rolled over me like a tidal wave. My beautiful wife, my son, the future I should have had. All of it stolen away by the father and brother of the man who’d just shattered my entire world with three little words.
It’s okay, Hawke.
Three little words that had given me permission to let go of the past for a few minutes, to feel things I’d never expected to feel again…
