AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Aren’t you hungry?” I ask, my voice a little nervous, damn it.
He keeps his eyes on mine but they soften a bit as he shakes his head. “We’re here for you, River. Get whatever you want, and then I’m taking you home.” He leans further into me and suddenly I feel the stiffened length of his arousal digging into my back.
Relief sweeps over me. Thank God. The reason why he’s rippling with tension is because he’s about to bust a nut.
Contented, I turn back to the front and the waiter behind the desk nods at me.
“What can I get you?” he asks.
“Can we get a coke and large fries, please?” I hand him back the menu and he nods again. Tate takes out his wallet and scans a card on the reader, as the waiter puts the order in the kitchen and runs the coke nozzle into a cup.
The server sets the fries and the soda down in front of me, and I lean backwards into Tate, tipping my head back so that I’m looking up at him from below.
“Thanks,” I say as I slip the straw into my mouth, sucking up the coke. He smiles down at me and, when I go to place the drink back on the counter, he picks it up and takes a sip, eyes glinting into mine. He’s kissing me without kissing me. My cheeks flare pleather-seat red so I duck down to nibble my way through the fries. Every single time I take a drink, he immediately takes one afterwards, rubbing into me a little harder from behind. By the time I finish I’m wondering if I’ll have a bruise.
Just as I turn to hop off the stool Tate is being pulled into one of those fist-gripping shoulder-knocking “hugs” that men do, and when I see who the other recipient is I am stunned into stillness. Black fluffy hair, and is that a lip ring? I stay immobile in the hopes of him not noticing me, but that becomes impossible when Tate slides me off the seat and crushes me into his side.
Madden’s eyes cast down on me and narrow, a look that derives scepticism more so than contempt, but when they flick back up to Tate he immediately leans into his ear (annoyingly on the side of him that I amnotstanding against) and starts whispering. I can’t hear a word because the diner is ablaze with rowdy booths and country music, but Tate’s fingers never cease their caressing around my ribcage so I assume that it isn’t too incriminating.
I never had an issue with Madden – from what I gathered he was (thankfully) Tate’s favourite friend – but God knows what he knows… or worse, what hethinkshe knows.
Suddenly we’re walking outside and Tate is setting me by the side of his bike, positioning the helmet above my head. He speaks to me in a gentle, hushed tone. “Can you stay here for me for one minute, please? Madden’s going to… I need his help with something,” he finishes, his eyes briefly catching on Madden over my shoulder. I nod even though my nerve endings are flaring and he gives me a swift kiss before buckling me into the helmet.
I don’t turn around to see where they’re jogging to, but I hear the tinkle of a shop door as they enter, and once again when they leave. When he comes back, I can see that there’s something stuffed in his jacket pocket but I don’t comment, nor do I wiggle my hands into it as he ducks down to kiss the exposed skin at my neck. He settles onto the seat, I ease my body behind him, and then he kicks the bike into action, ready to ride.
Chapter 23
Present
I step off the bike onto the floor of the garage and Tate scoops his hand around the centre of my butt, hauling me up with one arm so that I can wrap my legs around his side. He buries his face into the warmth of my neck, veiled by my wind-swept curls, and he inhales deeply as he ducks us out of the garage, locking the door with his free arm, and walking us up the porch. He pulls away only to check which key to slot into the lock, opening it and stepping inside, and then he dips his face back to mine, planting hot chaste kisses down my cheek, making me shiver.
“What’s in your pocket?” I ask – okay, I gasp – as he drags the fingers cupping my ass more roughly against my centre.
He makes a gruff sound behind my ear but I feel him dig into his pocket and pull out the cellophane-wrapped box. I turn my head so that I can see the item and he pushes it into my hand as he starts grazing his teeth up the other side of my neck.
I hold up the box and shudder involuntarily. I feel him breathe a laugh against my skin, his mouth lifting at the corners.
It’s a twenty-four pack of condoms which sends jolts of both delight and fear up my spine. I can’t help but wonder why he was with Madden when he bought them – was he being measured?
Tate pulls back, his eyes veiled with starry-night darkness, to study my reaction to the box. The movement inadvertently releases a warm surge of the heady pine-tree-fresh-wood-hot-skin scent that clings to his chest and I can taste it in my mouth. I try to shake off the dizziness as I pretend to read the packaging.
“‘Extra, extra, extra large’,” I say, eyes narrowed in deep concentration. He lets out a loud body-shaking laugh and his eyes twinkle in pleasure. I meet his gaze and make a little lip-biting hiss. “Ouch. Better not risk it, then.”
He grabs the box from me, stuffing it into his pocket as he walks us into the kitchen. He feels around on the table and the next thing I know he’s gently sliding my glasses back on my nose. He pulls off my trainers and kicks off his boots as I adjust my glasses to optimum comfy-ness, and then he pins me with a blazing all-pupil stare as he starts ascending the stairs. “I’ll make it fit,” he whispers darkly.
I’m bitten and squeezed until we reach the bedroom, where he closes the door gently behind us, locks it, and then sets my feet carefully onto the carpet. Tate’s actions are so reassuringly tender that I start to doubt whether or not the condoms are for us to use, or if they are more of a prop to have on-hand just in case.
When he sinks to his knees I understand that we will be using them.
“Can I take these off?” he asks as he looks up at me from under his lashes, his head somewhere near the top of my ribcage. He really is very tall.
I realise that by this point I am supposed to answer whatever it was that he said but instead my hands have found their way into his chocolatey hair and I’m tugging him harsher than I mean to. He doesn’t seem to mind.
“What?” I ask back.
Tate smiles up at me and I notice that my top button and zipper have been released without my realising, and his fingers are skimming around my denim waistband.
“You want my jeans?” I ask. I don’t know why I say it that way, but now it sounds like I’m offering him my jeans.
