over.
I’m not going to cry—
She hiccupped as a sob broke free.
Bringing her knees to her chest, she buried her face against them.
Lost in the hurt, she didn’t hear his footsteps. It wasn’t until he closed his hands around her ankles that she even realized she wasn’t alone.
Jerking her head up, she stared into Tate’s gaze. His eyes, so dark they were nearly black, bore into hers.
“Tate…”
He tugged her legs down and she curled her hands around the edge of the porch swing, her heart slamming against her ribs. He went to lean in and she lifted a hand, pressed it to his chest.
“Don’t.” Her voice cracked. “I’m not … we can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”
He didn’t seem to realize she’d even spoken as he reached up and closed one hand around her wrist, his thumb stroking against her inner wrist as she continued to press against his chest. “Ali…”
His heart slammed against her palm and his shirt, soaked by the rain, was no barrier between them. She felt the scalding heat of his skin. Drops of rain clung to his hair and as she stared into his eyes, one of the drops fell, caught on his cheekbone, and rolled down. It hit her wrist and she was surprised it didn’t sizzle, as hot as she suddenly felt.
It was a heat that echoed deep inside her, down low in her belly and every beat of her heart sent that heat pulsing through her until she thought she might explode.
The seconds drew out and she took a slow, deep breath. His gaze dropped to her mouth and she had to bite back a moan.
“Tate, stop,” she whispered, forcing the words out. That hunger continued to pang inside her, making her skin feel tight, hot. She had to curl her fingers into a fist to keep from reaching for him. “I’m tired of only having part of you. I told you. It’s all or nothing and you won’t give me everything—”
He lifted her hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss to her inner wrist. That gentle caress sent shivers racing through her. Blood started to roar in her ears, so loud it took her a minute to realize he had started to speak.
“All my life, even from the time I was a kid,” he murmured, his voice slow, smooth as silk. He let go of her wrist, placing both hands on her knees as he continued to speak. “Everybody told me how much I was like my father. His parents, before they died. My mom. Even my sisters saw it.”
Her heart stuttered.
Tate rarely spoke of his father, but when he did, there was always a burn of rage in his voice. That wasn’t there now.
There was only sadness.
“After Mom disappeared, part of me wanted to believe he hadn’t done it.” He flicked a glance at her. “I really did want to believe it, you know. But I understood that gut-wrenching rage. Because there were things he’d said that made me so angry that I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to go after him and beat the shit out of him. I didn’t. Because of my sisters. When they were fighting, out in the living room, I was trying to keep Chrissie calm.” His voice skipped, almost broke and he looked down. “She was nine, scared. Confused. Upset. Clinging to me like a monkey. She … hell. You remember how she was? The teachers thought she might be kind of slow, how much trouble she had with school and everything. She did just fine as long as Mom was there. Mom could always calm her down, get her focused and everything. But…” He blew out a breath. “But she didn’t have Mom to calm her down that night. It was just me. We’d been out there, at first, when they started fighting. I don’t even remember what started it, not really. We were watching a movie. Mom got on me about something … and then … bam . It was like a nuclear explosion. They started fighting and I ended up picking up Chrissie, dragging Jensen along with me into my room.”
Memories clouded his eyes and his voice was soft, almost too soft to hear over the rain. He still had his hands on her knees and he rubbed them up and
I’m not going to cry—
She hiccupped as a sob broke free.
Bringing her knees to her chest, she buried her face against them.
Lost in the hurt, she didn’t hear his footsteps. It wasn’t until he closed his hands around her ankles that she even realized she wasn’t alone.
Jerking her head up, she stared into Tate’s gaze. His eyes, so dark they were nearly black, bore into hers.
“Tate…”
He tugged her legs down and she curled her hands around the edge of the porch swing, her heart slamming against her ribs. He went to lean in and she lifted a hand, pressed it to his chest.
“Don’t.” Her voice cracked. “I’m not … we can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”
He didn’t seem to realize she’d even spoken as he reached up and closed one hand around her wrist, his thumb stroking against her inner wrist as she continued to press against his chest. “Ali…”
His heart slammed against her palm and his shirt, soaked by the rain, was no barrier between them. She felt the scalding heat of his skin. Drops of rain clung to his hair and as she stared into his eyes, one of the drops fell, caught on his cheekbone, and rolled down. It hit her wrist and she was surprised it didn’t sizzle, as hot as she suddenly felt.
It was a heat that echoed deep inside her, down low in her belly and every beat of her heart sent that heat pulsing through her until she thought she might explode.
The seconds drew out and she took a slow, deep breath. His gaze dropped to her mouth and she had to bite back a moan.
“Tate, stop,” she whispered, forcing the words out. That hunger continued to pang inside her, making her skin feel tight, hot. She had to curl her fingers into a fist to keep from reaching for him. “I’m tired of only having part of you. I told you. It’s all or nothing and you won’t give me everything—”
He lifted her hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss to her inner wrist. That gentle caress sent shivers racing through her. Blood started to roar in her ears, so loud it took her a minute to realize he had started to speak.
“All my life, even from the time I was a kid,” he murmured, his voice slow, smooth as silk. He let go of her wrist, placing both hands on her knees as he continued to speak. “Everybody told me how much I was like my father. His parents, before they died. My mom. Even my sisters saw it.”
Her heart stuttered.
Tate rarely spoke of his father, but when he did, there was always a burn of rage in his voice. That wasn’t there now.
There was only sadness.
“After Mom disappeared, part of me wanted to believe he hadn’t done it.” He flicked a glance at her. “I really did want to believe it, you know. But I understood that gut-wrenching rage. Because there were things he’d said that made me so angry that I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to go after him and beat the shit out of him. I didn’t. Because of my sisters. When they were fighting, out in the living room, I was trying to keep Chrissie calm.” His voice skipped, almost broke and he looked down. “She was nine, scared. Confused. Upset. Clinging to me like a monkey. She … hell. You remember how she was? The teachers thought she might be kind of slow, how much trouble she had with school and everything. She did just fine as long as Mom was there. Mom could always calm her down, get her focused and everything. But…” He blew out a breath. “But she didn’t have Mom to calm her down that night. It was just me. We’d been out there, at first, when they started fighting. I don’t even remember what started it, not really. We were watching a movie. Mom got on me about something … and then … bam . It was like a nuclear explosion. They started fighting and I ended up picking up Chrissie, dragging Jensen along with me into my room.”
Memories clouded his eyes and his voice was soft, almost too soft to hear over the rain. He still had his hands on her knees and he rubbed them up and
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