Sweet Dreams
Page 102

Tate picked up the invoice, gave it a glance, looked at me and asked, “What’s this?”
“Um… surprise part two?” I answered in a question because the look on his face was a little scary.
“Lauren, f**k, did you not hear me when I said the blinds were gonna have to wait?” He spoke at the same time he agitatedly threw the invoice down on the counter.
“Yes, I heard you. You said that you couldn’t afford them. So, really, you kind of need them… um… in a way…” I was talking stiltedly because his face wasn’t getting any less scary and because he actually didn’t need them in any way. “So… um… I bought them.”
“Yeah, you bought them and I can’t afford them.”
I didn’t understand so I asked, “You can’t afford them?”
“Gonna be another hit to pay you back, Ace. Don’t need any more hits. My balance needs to start goin’ up, not sinkin’ down.”
“No, I mean, I bought them, for you.”
I thought this would go over well, since no one ever took care of him and Neeta had never given him anything but an orgasm. I’d given him those too and I was on a mission to suck him in as deep as I could get him so I had to pull ahead of all his history with Neeta and any other woman for that matter.
This, however, did not go over well.
“You bought them for me,” he repeated quietly but his voice was hard.
“Yes, I thought –”
He interrupted me. “No, babe, you didn’t.”
“Sorry?”
“You didn’t think,” he explained.
“I –”
“Got money,” he cut me off again, leaning a bit toward me. “Yeah, I know. It wasn’t in my face every time you put on clothes or spray on your fancy-ass perfume in my goddamned bedroom, I’d still know after you told me about your life with that f**kwad.”
“Yes, I have money, but –”
He broke in again. “No woman takes care of me.”
“I’m not taking care of you, I’m –”
“Takin’ care of me.”
I lost a bit of hold on my temper and therefore snapped, “Would you let me finish?”
“No,” he answered.
“No?”
“Actually, f**k no,” he amended.
“Sorry?” I whispered and he leaned forward further.
“I got a dick, babe,” he clipped.
“I know that, babe,” I snapped back.
“No woman takes care of me,” he repeated. “I make a home for me and my kid.”
“I was trying to do something nice!” My voice was rising. “It’s just blinds, Tate.”
“It’s you shovin’ your money in my face, Lauren.”
I reared back. “It is not.”
He leaned back. “You buy me sheets. You paint my room. What’s next? You gonna wash my balls?”
It was at that I sucked in breath and lifted a hand palm up between us. Then I took my purse from the counter, snatching my car keys from there. I walked out to the car in the garage and used the garage door opener that Tate had given me that was in my car. I walked the opener to his Explorer, opened the driver side door, tossed it on his seat, went back to my car, started it up, backed it out and went right to Carnal Hotel.
I checked in with Ned. Betty came out and we played Harry Potter Clue. They didn’t ask questions and I didn’t share. When Betty went to bed, I went to my room and crashed, wearing my makeup, taking off my jeans but keeping on the t-shirt I’d worn that day.
This sucked because Tate had been gone for days and I missed him. And I missed being in bed with him most of all. I didn’t sleep great because I never slept great but also because I missed him and I was angry with him, both in equal measure.
After a fitful night’s sleep, I got up, pulled on my jeans, slid on my flip flops and dragged myself to the reception desk. Betty let me into her house, she gave me face wash, an extra toothbrush and toothpaste. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, had a cup of coffee with her and told her I’d be back while she stared at me with an open face and kind eyes, inviting a talk if I needed it, ready to keep her mouth shut if I didn’t.
I might have mentioned before, I really liked Betty.
I went out to my car and drove to Tate’s. He was sitting on his deck, feet up on the railing, coffee cup in his hand when I pulled up his drive. I parked where Neeta parked, walked up the deck steps, keeping my eyes averted from him, went in through the sliding glass door and headed straight to the bedroom to get my bags.
I didn’t make it to the closet.
Halfway across the bedroom, Tate tagged me with an arm around my stomach and he pulled me back into his body.
“Not fun sleepin’ alone,” he muttered into my ear as I pulled against his hold but he was stronger than me and he switched our direction so we were heading to the bed.
“Let me go, Tate,” I demanded, my hands shoving at his arm.
“Gotta learn to get over it, Ace,” he told me.
“Let… me… go,” I repeated.
We made it to the bed, he twisted, going down on his back, me landing on top of him. I struggled, slid off his body, but he rolled over me, pinning me to the bed.
I pushed at his shoulders but his hands came up my sides, sliding over my armpits, my triceps, my elbows, my forearms and then my hands. His fingers forcing themselves to lace between mine, he pushed my arms and hands to the bed over my head, all the while his mouth was working at my neck.
“Tate!” I snapped.
His knee came up, parting my legs.
“Bet, way you catch fire, make up sex’ll be hot,” he muttered.
“We are not making up and we are not having sex.”
His head came up, I saw he was grinning and through his grin he said, “Babe.”
“Babe yourself!” I spat.
He burst out laughing and while still doing it, he kissed me.
Thus started the struggle and I did pretty well, considering Tate was bigger than me, heavier than me and stronger than me.
Unfortunately, along the line, I caught fire and we had make up sex and Tate was right, it was hot.
I was on my knees in front of him, my torso to the bed, my cheek pressed against the comforter, my arms straight out in front of me and my hands clenching the sheets when Tate encouraged roughly, “That’s it, baby, f**k yourself.”
And I was. He was on his knees behind me but I was rearing back into him, doing all the work.