Page 47 of Twisted Tate

“I’ll be ready.”

He and Ivy disappear down the hallway, and then the house goes quiet. I can hear the rain still falling outside and I’m already thinking about what needs to be done tomorrow.

Reese is standing beside me with her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the floor. She looks smaller than she did when my brothers were here. Like she was holding herself together for them and now the exhaustion of the day is setting in.

I pull her back against my chest. She comes without resistance, her face pressing into my shirt, her hands fisting in the fabric at my back.

“Hey.” I stroke her hair. “Talk to me, baby girl.”

“I’m scared.” The words are muffled against my chest. “Not of him. Not of what’s going to happen tomorrow. I’m scared of what comes after.”

“After?”

She pulls back enough to look at me. “My whole life has been about surviving him and those men. Once they’re gone . . .” She swallows hard. “I don’t know who I am without that fear. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing away tears she probably doesn’t even realize have fallen.

“You’ll figure it out.” I hold her gaze and will her to believe me. “Day by day. And you won’t do it alone.”

“You say that now. But once he’s dead and you don’t have to protect me anymore—”

“Stop.” I grip her chin, forcing her to look at me. “You think I’m here because I have to be? You think this is about killing your father and walking away?”

“I don’t know what this is.” Her voice cracks. “I’ve never had anyone—I don’t know how to—”

I kiss her. Not gentle, not sweet. I kiss her like I’m trying to crawl inside her and make her understand something I don’t have words for. I kiss her until she’s gasping, until her fingers are digging into my shoulders, until she stops trying to talk and just feels.

When I pull back, we’re both breathing hard.

“I don’t know what this is either.” I press my forehead against hers. “But I know that I’m not walking away from you when this is over. I know that the thought of you not being here makes me want to tear something apart. I know that you’re mine, Reese. Whatever the fuck that means, you’re mine.”

She stares at me with those gray eyes, and I watch her search mine, looking for any hint that I don’t mean what I say. She won’t find it.

“Show me. Don’t hold back and show me what it means to be owned by you.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “You say I’m not broken. Then fuck me like I’m not. I need you, Tate.”

I pick her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist and I kiss her again. I carry her down the hall to my bedroom, and I kick the door shut behind us.

I set her down on her feet beside the bed and grip the hem of the shirt she’s wearing.

“Arms up, baby girl.”

She raises her arms, and I pull the shirt over her head, tossing it aside. She’s not wearing a bra, and I take a moment to appreciate what’s mine. Her nipples are already hard. I drag my thumbs across them just to watch her shiver.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I hook my fingers in her sweats and panties and slide them down her legs. “Every inch of you belongs to me now. You understand that?”

“Yes.” Her voice is already breathless.

“Get on the bed. On your back.”

She climbs onto the mattress and lies back. Seeing her there, in my bed, waiting for me, giving me her complete trust makes my heart race.

I strip off my shirt and watch her eyes roam over my chest, my tattoos, the obvious bulge in my jeans. Her thighs press together, and I can see how wet she is already.

“Spread your legs for me.” I unbuckle my belt slowly, letting her hear the leather slide through the loops. “I want to see what’s mine.”

She lets her knees fall open, and the sight of her bare pussy makes my cock throb. She’s glistening and desperate to be touched. And I’m going to take my fucking time, because I need this as much as she does. I need to memorize every sound she makes, every way her body responds to me. I need to brand myself into her so deep she’ll never get me out.

The intensity of that thought should scare me. It doesn’t.