Page 45 of Unwritten Rules (The Sunburnt Hearts #1)

Chapter Twenty-One

TATUM

S innett hasn’t spoken a word since I got in his car ten minutes ago.

I had half expected him to spill the beans about the news he wanted to share with me as soon as I got into the seat, but was surprised when he had the playlist I shared with him last week on full bore and a cheeky grin on his face instead.

I was itching to pressure him into telling me what was on his mind, but quickly figured out that he wanted to keep me on the edge of my seat by purposefully staying quiet.

And because I didn’t want to push him, I stayed silent and got lost in the music, but deep inside, I was dying to know the secret he kept hidden on his tongue.

The car rolls to a stop in the car park of Edwards Beach.

It’s pitch-black outside besides the headlights illuminating a small portion of the tide rolling in over the sand.

My fingers flex on my thighs as I spin in the seat to face Sinnett.

The grin he wore when I got in the car hasn’t slipped once.

I’m impressed with his ability to hold it for as long as he has, but it also means the news he wants to share must be epic enough for him to be this giddy about it.

“Sin,” I start, reaching for the volume button on the touch screen, lowering the music to an acceptable level, “if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I might just die from a heart attack caused by anticipation.”

Sinnett snorts a laugh and shakes his head. His body turns to face mine. If his torso wasn’t hidden behind the same black hoodie he wears religiously, I have no doubt the muscles beneath his inked and tanned skin would’ve rippled with the simple movement.

“Ian cleared me to play on Saturday.”

My eyes widen as his words settle deep into my bones, followed by the rhythmic beat of my heart. Before I can stop myself, my hands dart out to grab Sinnett’s cheeks, needing to feel his warmth as I processed the situation.

“You’re playing this weekend?” I squeeze out, unable to hide the emotion seeping into my voice. “For real?”

Sinnett smiles—the same smile that has me melting each time he flashes it at me. “I’m being so for real right now. I got the call earlier and knew you were the first person I wanted to tell. Well, besides Khai, of course. But he doesn’t count because he was already with me.”

A squeal slips past my lips, and I’m helpless to stop it.

Within seconds, my lips find Sinnett, and he’s quick to pull me onto my lap, planting his hands firmly on my waist, holding me against him while my legs straddle his thighs.

We melt into the kiss like we have done so many times before, but this time feels different.

Charged with excitement and something I can almost describe as pride, I melt against him, needing to feel every inch of him.

Sinnett kisses me with such force it knocks the air from my lungs, but I hold on, fingers digging into his shoulders.

This man has worked so hard to get to the end of his recovery.

Even when he doubted he had the strength or determination to go on, he proved himself wrong by pushing through and reaching the end of the tunnel.

Not only is Sinnett a man who knows exactly what he wants, he will do everything in his power to get it, even on the days when everything feels overwhelming and self-doubt eats him alive.

But this moment right here will serve as a reminder to him that anything is possible if he puts his mind to it.

“I’m so proud of you,” I murmur against his lips breathlessly.

Sinnett exhales a sharp breath, hands tightening on my hips as his eyes lift to meet mine. “You are?”

I nod, grinning. “Very much so. You fucking did it, Sin. Just like I knew you would.”

His throat works a swallow, ocean eyes darting across my face as if searching for a sign that I’m lying. When he doesn’t find one, he drops his forehead against mine and inhales deeply. “No one has ever told me that before. Well, besides Mia and Gran.”

I frown, lifting a hand to run it through his silky hair. “Are you serious?”

Sinnett nods.

Well, shit. I wasn’t expecting his words to form cracks in my heart, but here we are.

“Not even your parents?” I question, voice wavering.

He shakes his head. “Not once.”

“Sin…” I breathe. I swallow hard, fighting the lump forming in my throat.

“I accepted it a long time ago,” he says, forehead pressed firmly against mine as we hold each other.

“Nothing I have done has ever felt good enough for my parents, especially my father. When I was growing up, I did everything I could to make him proud. I got the best grades in school, was the best on my footy team, and I even won countless awards in school, but none of it mattered to him.”

I open my mouth to say something, but the words die on my tongue because what is there to say? No word in the English dictionary will change how Sinnett feels at this moment. Nothing I say can change his perception of his father and the lack of support he got as a child.

I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like to grow up with parents who didn’t tell their child they were proud of them.

If I so much as drew a picture for my mum in primary school or came home with an excellence in participation award for a class I was mediocre at best in throughout high school, Mum would say the same thing.

“This is amazing, sweetie. I’m so proud of you.”

Even Dad would say the same thing when I would call him after school some days. It didn’t matter whether I was getting terrible grades in my legal studies class or my weekend soccer team was coming last in the comp, he never failed to remind me that he was proud of me.

My heart breaks for the man in front of me, baring the deepest parts of him. Every insecurity and self-doubt he has is laying on his sleeve, and he’s trusting me with this information—a part of him others aren’t privy to seeing.

The fact that he trusts me enough with this side of him has my heart racing and my fingers trembling.

“Even now, when I’m at the height of my career and in the best shape of my life, before the injury, it still wasn’t enough for him.

Every try I scored or conversion I kicked didn’t faze him.

It’s as if he’s waiting for something I don’t know about or simply thinks I’m not capable of achieving, and it fucking hurts, Tate.

Not being the man my dad wants kills a little part of me every day. ”

I blink back the tears forming in the corner of my eyes and release a shaky breath.

“Don’t listen to him,” I whisper, my lips brushing against his.

“You’re every bit the man you’re supposed to be.

I see it in the way you carry yourself, how driven you are and how you treat me.

Being a man isn’t defined by how physically fit you are or if you’re the best athlete in the world.

To be a man means to be the best version of yourself in every way.

And I would be lying if I said I was looking at anything but a real man right now. ”

Sinnett slowly lifts his head to meet my gaze. My breath catches in my throat at the intensity of his eyes. They’re somehow brighter in the depths of darkness consuming the small space, and a spark of hope flashes across them, melting my insides into liquid.

“Do you mean that?” he rasps out, holding my gaze. “Tate…”

“I meant every word.” My hand comes up to cup his cheek, and he leans into it.

“You don’t need your father’s approval to be the man you want to be.

At the end of the day, this is your life, so live it without hesitation or the fear of never being good enough.

You can’t please everyone, Sin. But you can be the best version of yourself for you . ”

“How is it that you see the real me better than anyone else?” he murmurs.

The corner of my mouth tilts up in a half smile. “Because you allow me to.”

Sinnett hums, as if mulling over the words. His hands slide over my hips to rest on the curve of my ass. Heat pools in my core and I instinctively rock against him, needing to be closer. I feel him straining against the light material of the black athletic shorts, and my mouth dries.

He grins and leans forward, breath fanning against my lips. “Do you have something else on your mind, strawberry?”

Only Sinnett would go from baring his soul to me to flirting in the blink of an eye.

I swallow hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sinnett slides one hand to the back of my neck while the other toys with the hem of my black leggings. “So you’re telling me that if I dip my hand beneath the fabric of these flimsy tights, you’ll be as dry as a bread loaf?”

No . “Yes.”

His fingers tease the waistband, leaving bursts of heat on my skin as he works his fingers closer to where I need him. And when he reaches the destination, he’s going to learn very quickly that I was lying through my teeth.

I want him. There has never been any doubt about that.

Sinnett holds my gaze as he pushes my underwear to the side. My breath hitches in my throat when he slides his finger between my folds, learning exactly what I want. He grins in response and slides his finger into me. I throw my head back, arching my body against his as I take all of him.

“Such a liar,” he squeezes out, pumping his finger in and out to the rhythm of my pounding heart. “You’re fucking soaked, Tate.”

All I can manage is a whimper as he joins a second finger in on the fun.

One of my hands slides to the nape of his neck, holding on for dear life as he drives into me.

His cock strains against the fabric of his shorts, begging to be touched, but with the pressure building in my core and the lack of vision I have right now, all I can do is let Sinnett take the lead.

Sinnett stills his fingers and angles them upward. “Ride my fucking hand, Tate. Be a good girl and take all of me.”

Needing no further instructions, I do as I’m told and ride his fingers. Lifting my hips until his fingers are barely inside of me, I then slam them down. Sinnett groans and reaches for the back of my neck, attaching his lips to mine.

Between the pressure building in my core, the intrusion of Sinnett’s fingers, and the feel of his lips moving against mine, it’s too much. I can’t breathe; the sides of the car closing in on me as I rush closer to the edge, chasing the euphoric feeling only Sinnett can provide.

“That’s it,” Sinnett utters against my lips. “Come on my fingers, Tate.”

I screw my eyes shut and focus on keeping my rhythm from turning sloppy.

Pressing my lips against Sinnett, I groan against his mouth.

The fire building in the depth of my core is one spark away from exploding.

And Sinnett feeds into the fire by sliding his hand around my throat, squeezing gently as his lips attack mine.

Yeah, that’ll do it.

My body seizes as an orgasm tears through it. Tilting my head back—with Sinnett’s hand still wrapped around my throat—my lips part as a breathless moan escapes them.

Sinnett presses his lips to the side of my mouth, his hand on my throat sliding down my chest to rest on my hip. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Tate. God, I’ll never get used to it.”

My head is too full and my body weightless to do much more than collapse against Sinnett’s chest. He pulls his hand out of me and re-adjusts my clothes before wrapping his arms around me, hugging me closer to him.

“Savin’ Me” by Nickleback sounds from the speakers, replacing the silence that settles over us.

I focus on the lyrics and the warmth radiating from Sinnett’s chest. Whenever I’m with him, it feels like the rest of the world falls away.

We don’t have to worry about responsibilities or the fact that we can never truly be together.

But for the couple of hours we spend together in this car, we get to be ourselves.

It’s moments like these I’ve started to cherish the most.

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m proud of you,” I murmur, turning my cheek to rest on Sinnett’s shoulder.

Sinnett runs his hand over my back, the movement comforting. “Believe me, I haven’t forgotten, Tate.”

“Good, because I’m going to tell you every time you’re about to walk out onto that field, and you’ll hear it again the second you come off.”

His hand stills on my back and he exhales a sharp breath. “I can’t wait to hear it.”