Page 46 of Playing Hard to Hate

TATUM

PRESENT

I couldn’t breathe.

Damian’s hands were tight around my throat, his grip unrelenting as I clawed at his wrists, desperate for air. His face twisted with rage, eyes wild as he sneered down at me.

“You think he can save you?” His voice was a low hiss, taunting. “He can’t. No one can.”

“No, no, no,” I whimpered, desperate for air.

My vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges. My lungs burned, my body trembling from the effort to fight him off. The room around us spun, the walls closing in.

Then suddenly.

Air.

I gasped, my body drenched in sweat, my heart hammering against my ribs.

For a split second, I didn’t know where I was. The shadows in the room felt too close, the weight of strong arms around me making me flinch.

But then I felt him .

Griffin’s hands on my skin, his soft touch, his voice a gentle whisper as he coaxed me awake and away from the nightmare.

The warmth of his body against mine, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my fingertips.

Griffin .

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers curling against his chest. The nightmare still clung to me, its grip cold and cruel, but he was here. Safe. Real.

“Hey, hey, you’re safe,” he whispered, voice thick with sleep, brushing my hair back with the gentlest touch. “It’s just me. You’re here with me.”

“Fin, I’m a mess. I am never going to be perfect,” I whispered.

“I don’t care about you being perfect. Never have, never will.” His one hand cupped my jaw, the other wrapping around my torso to keep me cocooned in his safety.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself.

“ You’re just saying that because you are perfect, you have everything!”

“No, Tate, you’re wrong. I only have everything if I have you.”

We were both silent as I pressed my forehead against his chest. My breathing slowed, my heart beginning to steady.

And that’s when I felt it.

The hard press of him against my hip, the heat of his body seeping into mine.

The nightmare faded completely, replaced by something else entirely.

Desire.

It wasn’t a new feeling, but it was certainly foreign.

I’d felt it before, moments of wanting him that I always forced myself to ignore because I couldn’t give into the feelings.

But right now, in the stillness of the night, wrapped in his arms, there was no need to ignore it anymore.

He was finally mine, and deep down, I knew I didn’t need to worry about losing him ever again .

I moved slightly, the friction making my breath hitch. His fingers twitched against my skin, his whole body tensing.

And I wanted more.

I tilted my head back, finding his gaze in the dim light. His gray eyes were darker now, his jaw tight, and his lips parted as he took me in.

“Tate…” His voice was strained, his grip on me firm, but I could feel his restraint.

I swallowed, nervous but sure. “I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t want to think about the robbery, the tabloids…I just…I want to feel something good. I need you, Griffin.” There. I had admitted it. I needed him in ways I couldn’t describe.

His fingers traced slow, soothing circles on my waist. “Are you sure?”

I nodded, heart pounding. He gripped the bottom of my chin, his touch featherlight as he forced me to look into the darkness of his depths, at the desire that consumed him. “I need you to tell me. I need to hear you say it.” His throat bobbed, his restraint hanging by a thread.

“I’m sure.”

“This is your first time, baby. I need you to be absolutely certain. No regrets.” The way he said baby made my heart skip a beat, the softness that crept into his tone making every single wall that surrounded my heart crumble to the ground.

I reached for his jaw, touching, feeling the stubble of hair from not shaving the last few days. “I could never regret you.” The words were honest, sincere, and exactly what he needed to hear.

His restraint shattered in an instant. One second, he was holding back, barely tethered. The next, he was hovering over me, his arms caging me in, muscles tense with need. His nose brushed mine. Our breaths mingled in the charged space between us .

His thick, powerful thighs framed mine, trapping me beneath him. But fear never crossed my mind. Not with him. Not when his body was the safest place I had ever known.

Then his lips found mine, soft at first, coaxing, savoring. But it wasn’t enough. A low groan rumbled from his chest as his mouth took control, his tongue sweeping in, claiming me in a way that made my pulse thunder and my world tilt.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” The words whispered between us were filled with longing and desperation.

“Me too,” I admitted, watching as his gray eyes darkened before he claimed my lips again. His hand drifted to the hem of the boxers resting on my hips, fingers teasing the fabric as he slowly started to tug them down. I arched into his touch, desperate to be closer, my body already attuned to his.

The material was soft as it slid over my skin, his movements unhurried, savoring every inch he revealed. He leaned back, no longer caging me in, his gaze dropping to watch what he was doing.

With a slow tug, he peeled the covers back, exposing my legs to the cool air.

A shiver rolled through me, and I didn’t know if it was from the chill or the heat of his touch as his fingers grazed the inside of my thigh.

A soft moan slipped from my lips as I reached for his face, needing him, needing this.

His hands trailed lower, pushing the fabric past my thighs, down my calves, until he reached my feet. Then, with a tenderness that stole my breath, he pressed a kiss to the arch of my foot.

And now I understood all the books.

“Fin,” I whispered, his name spilling from me in a low, desperate moan. I should have been embarrassed at how easily he unraveled me—but I wasn’t. Not when he started moving back up, his lips leaving a scorching path along my calves, my thighs .

Each kiss was a promise.

Each touch, a brand.

And I was his to claim.

“Have you ever touched yourself, baby?” His voice was low, thick with desire and need.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” My fingers cupped his face, nails digging into his neck.

“You better know how to use those claws, kitten.” He chuckled and then closed the gap between us again, lips brushing mine softly. Giving me exactly what I craved.

“I’ve read enough books. I think I know what I need to do,” I whispered. “Do you know what you need to do, Griffin?”

A sexy smirk twisted his lips, dark and full of promise, and I was certain that if the bed weren’t beneath me, my knees would have given out completely.

He was on his knees now, just out of reach, teasing me with the space between us.

With one slow, fluid motion, he gripped the back of his shirt and tugged it over his head, revealing golden skin stretched over hard muscle, abs upon abs, every dip and ridge more defined than the last. A dark dusting of hair trails across his chest, down the center of his stomach, disappearing beneath the waistband of his boxers.

He was beautiful.

Not just in the way athletes are, all sharp angles and carved strength, but in a way that stole the breath from my lungs. He was power and grace, raw masculinity wrapped in the body of a man who looked like he was built to ruin me.

And God, I want to be ruined. I want to be smothered by him.

His eyes locked onto mine, filled with heat, filled with intent. “Like what you see, kitten?” His voice was husky, edged with amusement, but I could see the way his muscles tightened, the way his hands clenched at his sides like he was holding himself back .

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering in my throat. “Yes,” I breathed, barely able to form the word.

That smirk of his deepened. “Good.”

I sat up on one elbow so I could trace the dips of his muscles. He exhaled sharply when my nails lightly grazed over his abs. “Tate…” My name was more of a groan than a word, sending a rush of heat straight through me.

Griffin pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then another, softer this time, until I turned into him, claiming his lips with a hunger that made my head spin. His weight shifted over me, our bodies flush, his warmth seeping into every inch of me.

He made quick work of the shirt that had been covering the rest of me from his hungry eyes, and as soon as I was exposed, his gaze darkened, devouring every inch of me.

From my neck to my collarbone, over my breasts, lingering at the soft rise and fall of my chest, down the curve of my stomach, all the way to my bare toes, curled slightly against the sheets.

A slow, deep breath left him, his fingers flexing at his sides like he was holding himself back.

“Fuck, Tate,” he murmured, voice thick with something raw. “You’re—” He swallowed hard, shaking his head like he couldn’t find the words.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, my body thrumming under the intensity of his stare.

No one has ever looked at me like this before, like I’m the most stunning thing he’d ever seen, like I was something to be cherished.

I was used to being looked at and admired in a way that felt impersonal, like a piece of art behind glass.

Or worse, like something to be devoured, nothing more than skin and curves for wandering eyes.

But not with Griffin.

His gaze was different. It wasn’t just hunger. It was admiration. Like he saw me, not just my body. Like he wanted all of me.

My breath hitched as he leaned in, his fingers tracing the curve of my hip, his lips hovering just over mine.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured, voice rough, careful.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”

His thumb stroked lazily across my skin, soothing and setting me on fire all at once. “You’d tell me if you weren’t?”

I nodded again, my heart swelling at the tenderness in his tone.