Page 40 of Twisted Tate

Suddenly I’m on my back and he’s above me, driving into me with hard thrusts that drag out the orgasm until I’m sobbing from the intensity.

“My fucking turn.” He pins my wrists above my head with one hand, the other gripping my hip as he pounds into me.

It should scare me, the sudden shift in power. But it doesn’t. Because I know he gave me control first. I know he let me have that, and I want him to take it back.

“Yes,” I gasp. “I’m yours.”

“Damn right you are.” He leans down, his mouth against my ear. “This pussy belongs to me. These moans belong to me. Every fucking part of you belongs to me.”

“Yours.” I can barely form words. “All yours.”

He comes with a groan that sounds like it’s torn from his chest, his hips stuttering as he spills inside me. I feel him pulsing, feel the heat of his cum, and a second smaller orgasm ripples through me.

For a long moment, neither of us moves. He’s still inside me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his breathing harsh against my neck.

Then he lifts his head and looks at me.

“What the fuck are you doing to me, Reese?”

“I don’t know.” I reach up and touch his face, tracing the line of his jaw. “But whatever it is, you’re doing it to me too.”

After a repeat of yesterday’s shower sex, we finally make it into the kitchen.

Tate insists on making breakfast again, which means I’m sitting at the counter watching him move around in nothing but athletic pants while I wear one of his t-shirts. It hangs almost to my knees, and every time he looks at me in it, his eyes go dark.

His phone buzzes on the counter. He glances at the screen, and I watch the shift happen in real time. The softness in his expression hardens. His whole body goes still in a way that reminds me that the man who is so tender with me is a killer. And he’s going to kill again, for me this time.

“It’s Fox. They’re about an hour out.”

The reality of what’s coming crashes back. Fox and Ivy. Tate’s family. It means that more people will know about what happened to me, even if it’s only the parts I decide to share. They can’t possibly think that I’m good enough or right for Tate. Or that Tate will even want me after all this is done.

“Hey.” Tate sets down his coffee and comes around the counter, turning my stool until I’m facing him. “You don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to tell them. You know that, right?”

“I know.” I stare at my hands. “I just . . .”

“Just what?”

“I’ve never had anyone on my side before. I don’t know how to trust people. I don’t know how to let them in.”

“You let me in.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

Because you saw me at my worst and gave me what I needed instead of using it against me. Because you look at me like I’m worth protecting. Because when I’m with you, I’m stronger than I’ve ever been in my entire fucking life. I see my worth differently.

I don’t say any of that. “I don’t fucking know. It just is.”

He studies my face. I know he sees that I’m holding something back. Not just about Fox and Ivy. About everything. There’s still one thing I haven’t told him. One secret that sits like poison in my chest.

My father wasn’t just the one who sold me. He was—

I can’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Baby girl.” Tate’s voice pulls me back. “Whatever you’re not saying, whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

“What makes you think I’m not saying something?”