ink.
I traced my thumb over his bottom lip, and his eyes fluttered closed, tongue darting out to lick where my touch lingered. “I’m fine, Tate. I’m better than fine. I feel…alive.” My voice cracked, and a bitter laugh escaped as I admitted that fact. “I’m fine,” I said again. Was I fine? I wasn’t actually sure, but I knew I wanted him.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “We shouldn’t do this now. We should wait.”
Scraping my fingers down the sides of his waist, I tugged his hips into mine. His erection pressed against my belly, and my eyes drifted closed, my head falling back against the wall. My throat stretched with the movement, and I heard his sigh from above me. “Fuck, Shelby,” he groaned, his voice more strained than I had ever heard it.
“Don’t make me wait,” I whispered. “I don’t often allow myself this—” I looked to him, nibbling my bottom lip. “Please.”
“You’re not in shock?” he asked once more.
I paused—I didn’t want to lie to him. I wasn’t exactly not in shock. So, instead, I answered, “I know what I’m doing. And I want you.”
He closed his fingers around my hips, sliding the other hand down and clasping his arm around my waist. In one fluid motion, he had me in the air, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking my ankles at his back. That erection now pushed between my legs, and a breathy whimper snuck through my pressed lips. He groaned as well, officially conceding, and with the one free hand, he wrapped his fingers into my ponytail, tugging my mouth to his. What I thought was going to be a ravenous kiss landed surprisingly soft on my lips, first moving with a tender coaxing, directing my mouth over his like he was the conductor and our kiss a complicated melody.
As always, remnants of rational, logical arguments itched at the base of my thoughts, threatening to swallow my current blissful clarity.
Will I regret this in the morning? What if I really am in shock? All it took was a quick thrust of Tate’s hips to replace that with imagery of his slick muscles and the weight of him on top of me. I groaned, arching into his erection as that kiss turned into something more ravenous. I was so tired of being the girl who weighed all her options first. For once, just once, I wanted to throw all that caution to the wind.
I wrapped my entire arm around his neck, opening my mouth wider and running my tongue along his. The truth was, I wasn’t fine, but not because some kid stuck a BB gun in our faces. Being around Tate had me unhinged and feeling like anyone but the Shelby I’d been my whole life. If he broke off this kiss, if he walked away from me, from us, it might wreck me. I was a thin sheet of glass stuck inches from a swinging pendulum, and one step in the wrong direction would shatter me.
We were moving, and before I knew what was happening, I was on my back in Tate’s bed. The down comforter was soft, silky, compared to Tate’s muscles, hard, heavy, and firm, pressing me into it. There was a faint smell of spice and laundry detergent.
Fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, I had it undone and torn off his shoulders in no time, tossing it to the floor, and Tate pulled my T-shirt over my head. The brief moments our mouths were apart were far too long, and our lips came crashing down on each other’s again. I traced my nails down his spine, playing his vertebrae like piano keys, and his moan vibrated a seductive melody down to my toes.
He pulled back, resting his weight on his elbow, and traced my breast through my bra, taking extra time at my nipple before brushing his knuckles down the length of my stomach. They trailed over the top of my jeans, popping the button and tugging the fly down. But instead of continuing south of the border, his fingers went back to my waistband, until he landed on my other breast. With a flick of his hand, the sheer lace of my bra was undone and in a pile with the other remnants of discarded clothing, and I arched into his mouth as he lowered it to my nipple.
I pushed off my heels, lifting my torso, allowing Tate to undress me entirely. I didn’t cower as