“Then you shouldn't have thrown her away when she was your wife. Now she ain't. Now she's somethin' to me and I don't let men I don't like get close to her and I gotta tell you man, I do not like you.”
“It isn't that it's too soon, you're on the back of my bike, it ain't too soon. You can buy sheets. You cannot install blinds."
"um..." I mumbled. "Can you explain the difference?"
"Sheets are chick territory," he said without delay. "You gotta use tools, that's dick territory."
"Oh," I whispered.
"Don't tread on dick territory," he advised.
"So, um... is a paintbrush a tool?" I asked cautiously.
"If you're paintin' the side of the house, yeah. If you're painting mud colored paint in a room, no."
"It's terracotta," I said softly.
"Whatever," he muttered, his mouth twitching.
"Or, the paint chip called it Mexican horizon. The blue is dawn sky."
"Definitely chick territory," Tate replied, losing the fight with his grin.
"What about...pictures for the walls?" I asked.
"Chick," he answered instantly.
"Um...could I ask that, instead of you getting angry and being a jerk, maybe you give me a head's up when I'm doing something stupid?”
“Two kinds of women get under your skin. The ones who do damage, they don't feel good there but once you're fuckin' stupid enough to let them in you got no choice but to take the time it takes to work them out. Then there are the ones who don't do damage, who feel good there, feed the muscle, the bone, the soul, not rip it or break it or burn it. The ones you don't wanna work out.”
“God, if he wasn’t so handsome, strong,
sometimes sweet, didn’t have a Harley, that beard, a tendency to play with my hair, didn’t look so good in jeans and wasn’t so danged good in bed, he would seriously not be worth it.”
“You want sweet dreams, lose the attitude and you might find I'll give you reason to have them.
Tate to Lauren”
“His forehead dropped to touch mine. “I’m gonna piss you off ‘cause I can be a dick. That’s who I am. And you’re gonna piss me off ‘cause, babe, you got attitude. That’s who you are. And that’s who we’re comin’ out to be together. And I’m all right with that because, with what I had before, even when you’re a bitch, I like it. But when you’re not, it’s a sweetness the like I’ve never tasted.”
“His smile got even bigger. "Yeah, Ace, a day of you cryin' in my arms, sleepin' in my arms, kissin' you, feelin' your body, smellin' your hair, your perfume, only so much a man can take. I ran for an hour, hard, didn't even fuckin' warm up, it didn't touch it. Come back, deal with that fuckwad, (that's her ex) and you're standin' there, all legs and hair, wearin' my shirt. Seriously. Only so much a man can take.”
“Brad (Lauren's ex) ignored Hayley (she's Brad's ex girlfriend) and looked at me, he did a top to toe and back again then his gaze moved to Tate.
"I'm here to tell you I'm suing you," he announced.
Jim-Billy, Nadine, Steg, Wing and my eyes moved to Tate.
Tate stared at Brad then he said, "Come again?"
"I'm suing you," Brad repeated.
"For what?" Tate asked.
"Alienation of affection," Brad answered.
Without hesitation, Tate threw his head back and burst out laughing.
Then he looked at me and remarked, "You're right, babe, this is fun."
Ignoring Tate's comment, Brad declared, "You stole my wife."
Tate looked back at Brad. "Yeah, bud, I did."
Brad pointed at Tate and his voice was raised when he proclaimed, "See? You admit it." He threw his arm out. "I have witnesses."
"Not that any judge'll hear your case, seein' as Lauren divorced your ass before I alienated her affection, but you manage it, I'll pay the fine. In the meantime, I'll keep alienating her affection. You should know, and feel free to share it with your lawyers," Tate continued magnanimously, "schedule's comin' out mornin' and night. Usually, in the mornin', she sucks me off or I make her come in the shower. Night, man…shit, that's even better. Definitely worth the fine."
Sorry, it's just too long; I have to cut it off. But it continues…like that:
"This is the good life?" (Brad)
"Part of it," Tate replied instantly, taking his fists from the bar, leaning into his forearms and asking softly, in a tone meant both to challenge and provoke, "She ever ignite, lose so much control she'd attack you? Climb on top and fuck you so hard she can't breathe?"
I watched Brad suffer that blow because I hadn't, not even close. We'd had good sex but not that good and Brad was extremely proud of his sexual prowess. He was convinced he was the best. And he knew, with Tate's words, he was wrong.
"Jesus, you're disgusting," Brad muttered, calling up revulsion to save face.
"She does that to me," Tate continued.
"Fuck off," Brad snapped.
"All the fuckin' time," Tate pushed.
"Fuck off," Brad repeated.
"It's fuckin' magnificent," Tate declared.
"Thanks, honey," I whispered and grinned at him when his eyes came to me.
I was actually expressing gratitude, although embarrassed by his conversation, but I was also kind of joking to get in Brad's face.
Tate wasn't. His expression was serious when he said, "You are, Ace. Fuckin' magnificent.”
“You buy me sheets. You paint my room. What's next? You gonna wash my balls?" -Tate”
“Which one are you?" I whispered.
"What?" he asked.
"Are you the good guy, the sweet guy who takes care of me or are you this guy who's kind of a jerk?"
His answer was instantaneous. "I'm both those guys, babe. Your job is to get used to it."
There it was, another order. Not even an ultimatum. Just, "get used to it".”
“Three weeks, after fuckin' you, knowin' what you taste like, what you feel like, the sounds you make when you come, three weeks I'm on the road and all I got is a couple minutes of your voice on the phone every night. Fuckin' you, that's all I can think about, like a teenager, at night in the dark, it's the only thing in my goddamned head. So I jack off, hopin' to cut through it, but nothin' compares to you. Then I know you can't sleep so I can't fuckin' sleep wonderin' if you're sleepin'. That shit's whacked and I come home, fuckin' beside myself it's over."
"So we find out about each other and who we are together. I'm gonna piss you off 'cause I can be a dick. That's who I am. And you're gonna piss me off 'cause, babe, you got attitude. That's who you are. And that's who we're comin' out to be together. And I'm all right with that because, with what I had before, even when you're a bitch, I like it. But when you're not, it's a sweetness the like I've never tasted."
"You said you were waitin' for something special and he took away your chance to figure out that you were carryin' it with you all this time. You are special, Laurie.”
“Whose SUV is this?” I asked once we were out of Carnal.
“Mine.” He answered.
I looked at him. “You drive a Harley.”
“Not big on puttin’ bad guys on the back of my bike when I hunt them down, Ace. Fucks with my street cred.”
“Ace!" Tate shouted, both Wendy and I jumped and twisted our necks to look his way. "You cashed out or what?" Tate asked still in a shout.
"I'm cashed out," I shouted back.
"You wanna socialize for the next hour or are we gonna go?" He was still shouting and I was acutely aware, due to the fact that the noise level declined significantly, that the entire bar was listening.
"Keep your pants on!" I yelled.
The noise level disappeared.
"Babe, get your ass over here," Tate ordered.
"Patience, Captain, I'm talking to Wendy," I shot back.
"Ass. Over. Here!" Tate commanded.
I looked at Wendy and snapped loudly, "He's so darned bossy!"
Two men and a woman sitting at the bar close to us burst out laughing.
"You better get your ass over there," Wendy advised, I rolled my eyes and stomped across the bar.”
“You love me?" he asked suddenly and, at his question, my stomach flipped then twisted.
"Yes."
"Then fuckin' kiss me good morning, Ace," he demanded softly but firmly.”
“She doesn’t look like a Buster,” I declared, “more like a Princess Fancy Pants.”
Tate was bent and pulling a skilled out of a cupboard. His head tipped back and his eyes locked on mine.
“You call my cat Princess Fancy Pants, Ace, we got problems.”
“Jesus, Laurie, baby, look at you."
My eyes followed his, mainly because I wanted him to keep at me and I'd do just about anything he told me to do to get it.
But what I saw made my heart skip and my legs fail.
Tate, dark, tall, behind me, his hands on me; me, blonde, my face flushed, my eyes hooded, tucked tight against him. A perfect fit, made to be there. A perfect match, made to be together.
Made to be there.
Made to be together.
We looked great.
We looked hot.
We looked beautiful.
My eyes went to his in the mirror.”
“The first time I met you, you told me you grew up here, I’d call you a liar,” Tate informed me.
I tipped my head to the side and asked, “Really?”
“Really.”
“Why?”
“High-class,” he replied.
“Sorry?”
“You looked high-class,” he semi-repeated.
“I’m not,” I stated.
“No, Ace, you’re not. You’re a different kind of class.”
“Farmer class.”
“Pure class.”
“I stopped looking around when I heard a soft “mew” and I looked toward Tate to see he was crouched. He straightened and turned to me.
I froze and stared.
Tatum Jackson, ex-pro football player, ex-cop, now bartender/bounty hunter, tall, beautiful and more man than I’d ever experienced in my life was standing on the edge of his kitchen holding a cat.
And it wasn’t just any cat and he wasn’t just holding it. He was cradling it.”
“You’ll have sweet dreams?” he asked quietly and sounding like he cared, a lot.
God but I loved this man.
I felt my mouth smile and I pressed even closer.
“I’m a good girl, I always do what I’m told.”
His hand left my hair so both his arms could wrap tight around me.
“Love you, Ace,” he murmured and my stomach melted.
He said it. Right out.
He said it.
“Love you too, Captain.”
“Don’t mind us,” Mack called. “They probably don’t get a lot of foreplay in hospital waiting rooms. You’re breakin’ the monotony of tears and tantrums.
“Mack!” Carrie hissed. “Tate just kissed her, that’s hardly foreplay.”
“You weren’t watchin’ close enough, honey. That was definitely foreplay.”
“You’re stuck,” I blurted, his grin died and he blinked.
“Come again?”
I swallowed, sucked in breath and forged ahead.
“I was lost but you… Tate, you got stuck,” I told him.
He stared at me and it took a lot but I braved his stare.
Then he asked, “You up for the job of pullin’ me out?”
“I…” I swallowed again. “No,” I answered truthfully.
“No?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting, his face getting dark, his arms
growing tighter.
“I…” I pulled in breath then whispered, “I kinda like it here.”
“Life happens and I move on,” she returned. “Life just happened and I’m movin’ on.”
“We were both quiet a long time and I was about to fall back asleep in the curve of his arm with his warm body at my back when he called my name.
“Laurie?”
“Yes,” I muttered, my voice sleepy.
“I was pissed last night.”
“I know.”
“You look good.”
“Sorry?”
“No way you can look like all the rest.”
My eyes shot open.
His arm curled me deeper into his body and I felt his face burrow into my hair.
“You’d always shine through,” he muttered and now he sounded sleepy but I was again wide awake. “Somethin’ special,” he finished.”
“I tried to imagine Tate on ice skates. This vision didn’t form in my brain likely because Tate’s badassness reached across four states and halted such activity.”
“Like I said, when I get pissed I say a lotta shit I don't mean and what I said about you I didn't mean," he repeated, beginning to look as impatient as he sounded.
"And like I said, you're old enough to learn you shouldn't do that," I repeated too, probably also looking impatient.
"That isn't me," he replied.
"Well, then, this obviously is eating you and that's your consequence because I have feelings and you walked all over them and you can't order me to shake it off so you can feel better. It's there, burned in my brain and I can't just forget it because you tell me to. So you have to live with that. You can't and want me gone, say it now because I'm beginning to like Betty and I met Shambles and Sunny and I'm having dinner with them tomorrow night and I'd rather not make ties when I'm going to need to hit the road because my boss is going to get rid of me."
"Shambles and Sunny?" he asked.
"Shambles and Sunny," I answered but didn't share more. "Now, can we just move on and do our best to work together and all other times avoid each other or do you want me to go?"
He moved forward an inch and I again fought the urge to retreat.
"Forgiveness is divine," he said softly and I'd never heard him talk soft. He had a very nice voice but when it went soft, it was beautiful.
This also sucked. (BTW, in the beginning a lot of things sucked! :D) I mean Lauren uses this word 'sucks'.
"I'm not divine," I returned. "I'm also not Ace and I'm not Babe. I'm Lauren. You don't like my name, don't call me anything at all. Now can I clean the danged table?"
I had my head tipped back to look him in the eye but I could tell he was expending effort to hold his whole body still.
Then he said in that soft voice, "I'm sorry, Ace."
"Me too," I replied instantly being clear I didn't accept his apology...”
“He grabbed my calves and yanked them apart, then pushed them up so my knees were bent. He put a knee to the bed and moved forward, releasing one of my calves, his hand wrapped around his cock and I felt his weight begin to hit me.
“You come with me inside you, Ace,” he gritted and then he was inside me, filling me, beautiful.
At the feel of him, so hard, making me so full, my back left the bed again. “Tate.”
He moved, driving deep, fast, hard. Our mouths attached, our tongues clashed. His hand went between us and he touched me and that was it. It hit me like a rocket and I combusted, my world exploding, taking me with it and I loved every nanosecond.”
“After more of his sweet torture, I called, “Tate, honey?”
“Yeah, baby,” he answered.
“Am I under your skin?” I whispered as my hips moved with his hand.
He replied instantly, “Oh yeah.” His thumb tweaked my clit harder, my hips jerked and a low mew slid out of my throat as the fingers of one of my hands slid into his hair and the other arm held on tighter. “Fuck yeah,” he growled and his lips left my ear, his mouth found mine and he kissed me, wet and deep.”
“You’re safe, Lauren,” he murmured and my eyes came back to his.
“You weren’t safe with him but, honey, swear to God, you’re safe with me.”
“Two of us in this room, Ace, two keycards," he said and my eyes went to him. When they did, he jerked his hand, finger extended to the door. "Know what this is?"
"A door?" I asked stupidly.
"A peephole," he bit back then moved his hand to flick the security latch closed. "Know what that is?"
"Captain -"
He advanced and the aggressive way he did it made me retreat. It was dawning on me he was pissed and he wasn't pissed at Brad (that's her ex). He was pissed at me.
I stopped when my legs hit the chair to the desk. He stopped when he was in my space. I tilted my head way back to look at him.
"You got great hair, babe."
"Tate -"
"Thick."
"Tate -"
"Soft."
"Tate," I whispered.
"Shame it gets hacked off with a knife after some guy rapes you with that knife!" He finished on a roar.
My body jolted.
"Tate!"
"There's bad guys out there, Ace. Bad. Do things to you that'll make you glad you end up dead. You don't open a goddamned door not knowin' who's behind it."
"I thought it was you."
"Well it wasn't."
"Tate -”
“That’s easy.” I made a rude noise. “I want to go back to ten days ago. I want to be back in my office, fucking on my desk with you wrapped around me! I want your body underneath mine looking up at me with some expression other than the one I saw when you left me at the lifts!” I rested my forehead on the steering wheel and took in air.”
“Just because you can’t take something back, doesn’t mean you don’t want to. Just because you want to, doesn’t mean you try.”
“Life is short, and it's up to you to make it sweet.
Sarah L. (Sadie) Delany”
“De la nostalgia humana por el amor ha brotado al fin y al cabo toda la parte de la cultura que no se orienta directamente a calmar el hambre o a luchar contra los enemigos. El sentimiento de la belleza no mana de otra fuente. Todo el arte, toda la poesía, toda la música han bebido de ella. El más soso cuadro de historia moderno, las madonas de Rafael, y las obreritas parisinas de Steinlen, el 'Ángel de la Muerte' como el Cantar de los Cantares y el Buch der Lieder, oratorios y valses vieneses, incluso toda moldura de yeso en esta casa horrenda donde vivo, todo dibujo de la alfombra, la forma de aquel jarrón de porcelana y el diseño de mi bufanda, todo lo que pretende gustar y embellecer, tanto si lo logra como sino, viene de allí, aunque sea por caminos largos y tortuosos.”
“I'll not listen to reason...Reason always means what some one else has got to say.”
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