Tate and the rest of the girls climbed out of the G8, smiling and laughing as Madoc and Jax wrapped their arms around them for a kiss.
Rubbing my hand down my face, feeling the thin layer of sweat, I climbed out of Jax’s car and looked over at Tate, her arms crossed as she leaned on the hood and peered over at me.
Her chest rose and fell—she was still catching her breath—and the heat in her eyes was . . .
Jesus.
I took in a deep breath, knowing what she wanted. Knowing everything she still held hostage in her brain and heart that she wouldn’t let past her lips. She was still that innocent and timid girl who let me put my hands on her in the chem lab four years ago, but with the armor of a woman who still didn’t want to trust. Not that she trusted me completely four years ago, either.
I gave her a half smile, telling her everything with my eyes that she already knew.
Nothing had changed. Especially not our foreplay.
***
“Do you need anything?” I asked my mom, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder as I fastened my belt. I’d just gotten out of the shower, while Jax, Juliet, Madoc, and Fallon took Pasha and joined some friends at Mario’s for dinner.
Tate stayed home to work through her reading list, and I had e-mails, budgets, and a ton of little shit that Pasha had left me to look over, which I’d finished just before I jumped in the shower and my mom called to check in.
“Well, since you ask . . . ,” she hinted, sounding cheerful. “Jason has to miss my checkup tomorrow at the doctor. Would you like to go with me?”
I stilled. She wanted me to do what?
“To the gynecologist?” I cringed, grabbing my watch to put it back on.
I heard her snort. “He’s an ob-gyn. Don’t make it weird.”
Taking the phone in hand, I dug out one of Jax’s black T-shirts, since I still hadn’t gone to claim my stuff left at Madoc’s. “Um, well . . . I’d really rather not, but if you need me . . .”
I heard her quiet laugh on the other end. “You’re precious.”
I rolled my eyes, taking the phone away from my ear to slip on the shirt. “What time should I pick you up?”
“Noon,” she shot back. “And thank you.”
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. I was trying to be nicer. I thought she’d earned it. But it was damn hard trying to change our relationship when we’d been the same way for so long. How do you go from not liking and not respecting someone to doing both?
It wasn’t going to happen overnight. Not even close. And it felt like there would always be bad blood between us.
But Quinn Caruthers—my soon-to-be little sister—was going to have it all. No one would stand in her way, least of all me.
I’d bury any lingering resentment from my own childhood for her.
I walked to the window, zoning in on Tate sitting cross-legged on her bed with an array of books spread out before her.
Her tanned arms were half covered by her long hair spilling around her, and when she got up to do something with her iPod, I grunted under my breath, feeling my dick tighten and then swell.
“I gotta go,” I told my mom. “See you tomorrow.” And I hung up.
Gripping my phone at my side, I watched her for all of two seconds—fresh and beautiful and sweet and driving me fucking nuts—before I jogged down the stairs, texting as I went.
Come outside.
I grabbed my leather jacket and keys, dashing into the garage, hitting the opener.
I added Please just for good measure, and climbed on the motorcycle.
Turning the ignition, I backed out of the driveway and eased down in front of her house, unlatching the helmet secured to the side.
I knew she might resist, but much to my relief, the front door opened.
She stepped out, folding her arms over her chest, which I knew she did for modesty’s sake. She was in her pajamas—shorts and a T-shirt—so she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Looking confused, she walked down the brick walkway and cocked her head. “What are you doing?”
I held up the helmet, hopeful. “Nighttime ride?” I suggested. “Your favorite thing in the summertime.”
Okay, not her absolute favorite thing, but close.
She looked at me like I was crazy. “I’m in my pajamas, Jared.”
“And you’ll stay in them,” I shot back. “I promise.”
She hooded her eyes, unamused by my joke, and I fought to hold back the grin.
Her red plaid pajama shorts were short and awesome, and the idea of her thighs, looking just as smooth and supple as ever, wrapped around my waist was a thrill I’d definitely let myself have right now. Any way I could get it.
She regarded me, the wheels in her head turning, but I didn’t miss the flicker of temptation she sucked at hiding.
“Just a minute,” she sighed, giving in and spinning around.
She dove inside the house, grabbing a hoodie located just inside the door and her black Chucks. She slipped on the hoodie, sweeping her hair out from underneath, and then sat down on the top steps to slip her shoes on, leaving them untied.
And the amount of sexual rage running through my goddamn body as she jogged down the steps, her long hair dancing in the light breeze and her smile shutting down my heart, made me real damn glad she wasn’t sitting in front of me.
Instead, she climbed on behind me, and I handed her the helmet.
Her bare thighs rubbed against the outside of mine, and when she wrapped her arms around my waist, I closed my eyes, savoring the frustration.
Rubbing my hand down my face, feeling the thin layer of sweat, I climbed out of Jax’s car and looked over at Tate, her arms crossed as she leaned on the hood and peered over at me.
Her chest rose and fell—she was still catching her breath—and the heat in her eyes was . . .
Jesus.
I took in a deep breath, knowing what she wanted. Knowing everything she still held hostage in her brain and heart that she wouldn’t let past her lips. She was still that innocent and timid girl who let me put my hands on her in the chem lab four years ago, but with the armor of a woman who still didn’t want to trust. Not that she trusted me completely four years ago, either.
I gave her a half smile, telling her everything with my eyes that she already knew.
Nothing had changed. Especially not our foreplay.
***
“Do you need anything?” I asked my mom, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder as I fastened my belt. I’d just gotten out of the shower, while Jax, Juliet, Madoc, and Fallon took Pasha and joined some friends at Mario’s for dinner.
Tate stayed home to work through her reading list, and I had e-mails, budgets, and a ton of little shit that Pasha had left me to look over, which I’d finished just before I jumped in the shower and my mom called to check in.
“Well, since you ask . . . ,” she hinted, sounding cheerful. “Jason has to miss my checkup tomorrow at the doctor. Would you like to go with me?”
I stilled. She wanted me to do what?
“To the gynecologist?” I cringed, grabbing my watch to put it back on.
I heard her snort. “He’s an ob-gyn. Don’t make it weird.”
Taking the phone in hand, I dug out one of Jax’s black T-shirts, since I still hadn’t gone to claim my stuff left at Madoc’s. “Um, well . . . I’d really rather not, but if you need me . . .”
I heard her quiet laugh on the other end. “You’re precious.”
I rolled my eyes, taking the phone away from my ear to slip on the shirt. “What time should I pick you up?”
“Noon,” she shot back. “And thank you.”
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. I was trying to be nicer. I thought she’d earned it. But it was damn hard trying to change our relationship when we’d been the same way for so long. How do you go from not liking and not respecting someone to doing both?
It wasn’t going to happen overnight. Not even close. And it felt like there would always be bad blood between us.
But Quinn Caruthers—my soon-to-be little sister—was going to have it all. No one would stand in her way, least of all me.
I’d bury any lingering resentment from my own childhood for her.
I walked to the window, zoning in on Tate sitting cross-legged on her bed with an array of books spread out before her.
Her tanned arms were half covered by her long hair spilling around her, and when she got up to do something with her iPod, I grunted under my breath, feeling my dick tighten and then swell.
“I gotta go,” I told my mom. “See you tomorrow.” And I hung up.
Gripping my phone at my side, I watched her for all of two seconds—fresh and beautiful and sweet and driving me fucking nuts—before I jogged down the stairs, texting as I went.
Come outside.
I grabbed my leather jacket and keys, dashing into the garage, hitting the opener.
I added Please just for good measure, and climbed on the motorcycle.
Turning the ignition, I backed out of the driveway and eased down in front of her house, unlatching the helmet secured to the side.
I knew she might resist, but much to my relief, the front door opened.
She stepped out, folding her arms over her chest, which I knew she did for modesty’s sake. She was in her pajamas—shorts and a T-shirt—so she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Looking confused, she walked down the brick walkway and cocked her head. “What are you doing?”
I held up the helmet, hopeful. “Nighttime ride?” I suggested. “Your favorite thing in the summertime.”
Okay, not her absolute favorite thing, but close.
She looked at me like I was crazy. “I’m in my pajamas, Jared.”
“And you’ll stay in them,” I shot back. “I promise.”
She hooded her eyes, unamused by my joke, and I fought to hold back the grin.
Her red plaid pajama shorts were short and awesome, and the idea of her thighs, looking just as smooth and supple as ever, wrapped around my waist was a thrill I’d definitely let myself have right now. Any way I could get it.
She regarded me, the wheels in her head turning, but I didn’t miss the flicker of temptation she sucked at hiding.
“Just a minute,” she sighed, giving in and spinning around.
She dove inside the house, grabbing a hoodie located just inside the door and her black Chucks. She slipped on the hoodie, sweeping her hair out from underneath, and then sat down on the top steps to slip her shoes on, leaving them untied.
And the amount of sexual rage running through my goddamn body as she jogged down the steps, her long hair dancing in the light breeze and her smile shutting down my heart, made me real damn glad she wasn’t sitting in front of me.
Instead, she climbed on behind me, and I handed her the helmet.
Her bare thighs rubbed against the outside of mine, and when she wrapped her arms around my waist, I closed my eyes, savoring the frustration.
