Page 19

Eve

T he stands shake as the crowd rushes to its feet to cheer the latest successful try. Five point score! Tate taught me that. I flush with pride, feeling like I belong.

With my arms wrapped around his strong, muscular bicep, I jump up and down in celebration. This is fun, and I’m actually having a good time now that I understand what’s happening.

When I agreed to come, I was looking forward to the after-party in our hotel room but resigned to suffer through the game for Tate.

One game in exchange for the amazing months we’ve shared seemed well worth it.

And there’s no way to repay Tate for coming with me to clear out Zana’s belongings, even if the situation had turned out to be different than what I’d originally thought.

And in an effort to cheer me up, I think Tate bought me every flower in the state.

The first half of the game, Tate held me close, leaning over and whispering in my ear as the action unfolded before us.

Now that I have a basic understanding, though, I join the rest of the crowd, yelling and cheering with excitement.

The home team has such a wide lead in the final two minutes, it’s highly unlikely the visiting team is going to score nine points to take the lead and win.

Warm brown eyes look down at me. “You look like you’re having fun.” Even as a spectator at the game he loves, his eyes are intense. Every time he looks at me, my belly swirls. I feel like he can see inside me.

“I am. Are all professional sports games this much fun?”

“You’ve never even been to a baseball game?” He asks with a smirk.

I shake my head. “Brandon wasn’t a big sports fan. I mean, he watched games on television all the time, but he never played anything, and if he went to anything, he never asked me to come along.”

“Fucking nerd,” Tate mutters under his breath. “No wonder you had to take care of your own orgasms.”

“Tate!” I hiss, mortified that the large crowd might have overheard.

I can hear, ‘The woman in row 23, seat D, takes care of her own orgasms,’ blasting through the speakers.

I glance around, but with the mayhem around us, no one seems to have heard a thing.

If they did, it doesn’t faze them. Maybe they hear that all the time.

“Don’t worry,” he pulls his arm out of my grasp, wraps it around my shoulder, and pulls me against him. “Tonight, I’ll show you how a real man takes care of his woman. ”

I’m not sure if the words were meant to turn me on, but the strange tingling between my legs would seem to think so.

“IT WOULD BE SO MUCH fun to watch you play,” I say, sitting on the bed in our hotel room.

“I have plenty of video we can watch.”

“It’s not the same as sitting in the crowd cheering you on, not knowing how it’s going to end, you know?”

“I do,” he sounds sad. “But, if I was playing, you could expect a win.”

“You really miss it, don’t you?”

“Playing?”

I nod.

“Like I’d miss my right arm. The pain after the game, not so much.” Tate kneels on the floor in front of me and rubs my thighs with his large, calloused hands, the friction spreading heat through my body.

“Have you thought about coaching?”

“You looking to get rid of me and send me overseas?” His dark eyes look stormy.

“No. I mean high school or college.”

He sniggers, “Spend my days with snot-nosed brats that think they know better? No, thank you.”

“Why not? It’s clear you love the game, and if you were as good as you want me to believe you were—”

“I wasn’t good, I was great.”

“Then you have a lot to teach them.”

“If I were to consider coaching, it would be for guys who want to learn and get better. Guys who want to master their craft. Now stop talking.” He opens my legs and nips on my inner thigh.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice sounding as erratic as my heartbeat.

Looking up at me with mischief shining in his dark brown eyes, Tate slides his hands under the hem of my shorts and inches them up my legs. The rough feel his hands create lights me on fire.

“Getting ready for you to see fireworks.” Holding my legs just above my knees, he yanks me to the edge of the bed and, without warning, spreads my legs wide, causing me to gasp as he gives me a manspread.

Before I catch my breath and protest, his arms hook under my thighs and wrap around my ass. His head dips between my thighs, and his mouth kisses from one inner thigh across to the other, causing me to squirm uncomfortably in his arms.

“Shh.” He coos, reaching up to unbutton my shorts and sending me into a full-blown panic. “Relax while I take care of you.”

“Tate,” My fingers thread through his hair, nudging his head away. “Please don’t,” I plead.

He takes a breath, releases me, and leans back on his heels. His rough, calloused hands continue to rub my thighs, his thumbs trailing along the innermost part of my leg.

“If you really want me to stop, I will.” For a heartbeat, I breathe easier. “But don’t you want to know what it feels like when I take my time to make you cum? Or would you rather me watch you give yourself an orgasm?”

“Neither.” I can barely articulate, nervous this will turn him off altogether .

His eyes darken and smolder. The cocky smirk on his face terrifies me in the best of ways.

“C’mon, Eve. I’m sure you prefer one to the other.

” His pointer finger crawls up to the very top of the inside of my shorts and right to the elastic of my panties.

I simultaneously worry and wish he’ll work his way past my undergarment and inside me.

“Either I defile your pussy with my mouth,” his tongue slides over his bottom lip, “or I watch you fuck yourself with your fingers. Your choice.”

His filthy mouth has my internal temperature rising so high, I’m afraid my blood will boil. No one ever spoke to me so crass, and while embarrassed, I’m melting with desire. I choose his mouth. Of course I do, but I’ve been denied for so long, I’m not sure I can handle it.

“It’s been years since... and then I never actually...” I admit, my voice trembling as much as my body.

Looking surprised by my admission, Tate stares at me, blinking a few times before speaking again. “Let’s start with something easy.”

Tate climbs up and sits on the bed next to me. His fingertips ghost up the side of my neck as his mouth moves down slowly, kissing me. Licking me, flooding me with warm, seductive sensations.

“This is all I want to do to your pussy. I just want to kiss it.”

Overwhelmed, my head falls back as I give in and relinquish control.

Tate gives me a few breaths to recover before grasping my chin between his thumb and forefinger and turning my head to face him.

He kisses me on the mouth. Soft, sweet kisses until they transform into deep, sloppy, breathtaking kisses.

Tate wraps his arm around my back and lies down on the bed. His hand moves up and down my flank until he stops, braces my back, and rolls me on top of him. His hands slip into my back pockets. Squeezing my ass, he presses my lower half against his engorged cock.

“See, this isn’t so bad, is it?” He whispers in my ear before kissing me behind it.

“No,” I answer, breathless.

“Good,” he smiles. “Easy peasy.”

I feel like a teenager having sex for the first time rather than a formerly married woman with a child. I’d like to think it’s the Tate effect; he’s so confident, and he comes to the table with a plan. I’m pretty sure if there was a table in here, the plan would be to have sex on it.

As skilled and adept as he is in the bedroom, I’ve earned a failing grade. Sex was the first thing to go in my marriage. I hate that I feel so inexperienced.

“Can you sit up?” He whispers.

I move to roll off him, but Tate stops me. “Sit up on my lap. Straddle me.”

I don’t want to admit it, but I like the fact that he’s in charge, telling me what to do. I’m out of my league and feel like peanut butter without its bread and jelly. Tate helps adjust me so that I’m upright, straddling his lap.

“You were so beautiful out there watching the game, getting lost in the moment.” Tate’s hands move under my shirt. He holds my breasts tight while thrusting his hips beneath me. “I want to see how beautiful you are here in bed, lost in the moment, with my cock deep inside you.”

The heat burning in my cheeks is unbearable.

Sweat beads behind my knees and neck. It almost makes me want to rip my shirt off.

As if he knows the thoughts running through my mind, Tate lifts my shirt.

I freeze a moment when it’s just above my bra, and Tate presses his lips against my overheated skin beneath it.

“Raise your arms so I can take this off.”

I hesitate for a moment, giving myself an internal pep talk.

I’m being ridiculous. We’re consenting adults, and my husband is dead.

There’s no reason why I should feel guilty.

I’m no virgin, and neither is Tate. I have every right to enjoy this and plan to do just that.

I nod and do as I’m told, allowing him to rid me of my T-shirt.

Looking hypnotized, with heavy-lidded eyes, Tate unhooks my bra and works the straps down to my wrists settled on his chest.

“So sexy,” he says as I raise each hand, one at a time, allowing him to slip the bra off completely and throw it to the floor.

Holding my bare breasts in the palms of his hands, he sits up and licks each pink bud.

My nipples perk up and harden as he licks and blows on each.

I hold his sculpted shoulders tight as he latches on to one breast, sucking hard.

His eyes roll back as his tongue swirls around the peak and flicks over my nipple.

His other hand tweaks my nipple every now and then, eliciting a gasp and shooting a hot spear of pleasure from my breast straight down to my vajayjay .

“You’re so wet,” he says, switching from one breast to the other, ready to subject me to more of his sweet torture. “Your pussy is drenched. Even with your shorts on, I feel you soaking my pants.”

With his tongue lashing my other breast, he holds my hips and rocks me over his length, tilting his hips upward. If Tate feels this good through our clothes, I can’t imagine how good he’ll feel when he’s finally inside me.