Chapter 10

January 15th

7:38 P.M.

"Mmm,"Scarlett moaned as she woke slowly.

That had been a great sleep.

The only good sleep she'd gotten since she woke up to the sounds of an intruder in her house.

It wasn't even necessary to open her eyes to know why she'd slept so well.

Tate was here, and somehow that meant she was safe.

Just because he didn"t like her and hadn"t felt the same things she did when they spent the night together, didn"t make him a bad man. A jerk, yes. He'd been unnecessarily cruel to her afterward when a simple, hey it was a fun night but I don't want more would have sufficed, but he wasn't the kind of man who would physically hurt her, and he would throw himself between her and a threat the same way she had when Raul's men had been going to shoot him.

Now she could feel his presence beside her and knew he had watched over her while she slept.

The thought brought a smile to her face. Despite what her mind knew about him, her body still thought he was sexy, and desperately wanted a repeat of their night together. Never had sex been better than that night. Afterward she'd thought it was because there was some connection between them, but now she just assumed it was because he was really good in bed.

The connection might not be real, but the chemistry was.

It was undeniable.

Tate felt it, too, even though he didn"t want to. She knew because she could feel it in the gentle way he touched her, the fiery passion deep in his eyes. He might not want her, but his body did, same as hers wanted his.

Wanted him right now.

Needed even.

For a few minutes, Scarlett just wanted to forget everything that had happened, the kidnapping, the torture, the drug she'd been given, the accusations, the second break-in, and the gunshots, all of it.

She wanted it gone, even if only for a short time.

When she blinked open her eyes, she saw Tate right where she knew he had been, sitting in the armchair right beside the couch he'd laid her down on after carrying her inside. Exhaustion must have hit the moment she was lying down, and her subconscious knew she was safe because she didn"t remember anything after that, not even Tate cleaning and tending to her wound.

Now he was watching her with an inscrutable expression and she had to know.

Had to know if he finally believed that she was innocent.

It shouldn't be important or matter to her at all what he thought, but for some reason it did. Because even though he didn"t feel the same way, she had felt a connection that night and his opinion of her did matter to her poor, lonely, scarred little heart.

This could very well be the stupidest thing she had ever done, but in this moment, Scarlett didn"t care. All she needed was a connection to someone who wouldn't hurt her.

Well, Tate, unlike anyone else, did have the power to take her heart and crush it beyond repair, but he would never lay a hand on her to cause her pain. Even when he thought she was a traitor he had been gentle with her.

Did he still think that?

Please believe in me.

The words whispered through her mind as she straightened and stood. Rejection in this moment would hurt even more than when he'd pretended not to know her that day at the grocery store.

But she didn"t stop.

Couldn't stop.

Forces she didn"t even understand were driving her toward this man who was lounging in an armchair watching her with a desire that already had her body responding.

She wanted his touch.

Craved it.

Was desperate for the high she knew he could give her.

One moment, just to forget, was that too much to ask after everything she had been through?

He didn"t stop her as she walked the few steps toward him. Didn"t reach for her as she straddled his lap. Didn"t do anything as her palms touched his abs and smoothed up his chiseled chest and then back down again.

Dressed in only gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt he looked good enough to taste. If he let her, she'd devour him the same way she had that night, matching him orgasm gotten for orgasm given. Tate's sex drive had been insatiable that night, and she wondered if he was always like that or if he had felt the same connection she had only to him it wasn't a beautiful thing but something to be shut down.

While he was still in a relaxed position, Scarlett could feel the tension in his body, his muscles bunched beneath her hands as they continued to stroke up and down his chest. Although she had replayed that night many times in the lonely nights she'd spent alone in her house, Tate felt even better than she remembered.

Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she shifted, lifting her hips so she could grind her center against his rock-hard erection.

There was still no movement on his part, no attempt to participate, and for the first-time doubt entered her mind.

What if he really didn"t want her?

What if she was trying to take something from him, he didn"t want to give?

Shame burned through her. She was trying to use him to forget. If he wanted sex with no strings, too, then that was okay, but if he didn"t then she was no better than the men in Raul's dungeon torture chamber who would have raped her if they'd been given permission even though it wasn't what she wanted no matter how many times she had begged for relief.

Humiliated, Scarlett tried to withdraw, and quicker than lightning Tate's hands gripped her hips, holding her in place.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. What did that mean? Was he about to accuse her of being a rapist on top of everything else?

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I thought …" she trailed off because she wasn't really sure what she thought. She hadn"t been acting on logical thinking only on instinct.

Regret filled his unusual eyes, and for a moment, she wanted to silence him, not sure she could take another blow right now.

"Scarlett, I?—"

"It's okay," she cut him off. "You don't want me. I get that. You don't like me. I haven't forgotten how you treated me after the night we spent together. I just …" How did she admit to a man who loathed her how badly she needed a human connection right now?

"I can"t … give you what you want," Tate said, and the regret in his eyes was echoed in his voice. There was pain there, too, and stupid romantic at heart that she was, she wanted to soothe it all away.

"All I want right now is sex, to forget, to pretend my world hasn't been totally destroyed, to feel instead of think," she whispered.

"There can"t be?—"

"I"m not asking for more," she said, cutting him off again.

"Just sex?"

"Just sex."

"Just sex," he repeated, not sounding as happy about that as she thought he would have. When he blinked the regret was gone, and the hands on her hips tightened. "You"re injured, so we do this my way."

"Pretty sure we did it your way all night that night," she said, heat pooling low in her stomach at his words and the memories of what they shared.

A low chuckle reverberated through her hands, which were pressed against his pecs. "I didn"t hear you complaining."

A shiver coursed through her as she remembered she had spent the night begging for more orgasms, not a single complaint had been uttered. "I didn"t have any need to."

What could only be described as an alpha smile of satisfaction curled his lips up, and warmth blossomed inside her chest. This was the man she remembered. Funny, sweet, protective, attentive … perfect.

"Hands stay on my shoulders, and I do all the work," he said as one of his hands shifted so it could brush across her center, where her panties and the leggings she still wore were already soaked with the evidence of her arousal.

No one had touched her in months, and already her body was responding to the featherlight caresses.

What was it about this man that drove her so wild?

"Scarlett?" Tate's thumb found her already throbbing bud and pressed hard against it. "I didn"t hear your agreement."

Because her brain was frazzled and all she could do was feel, not think. "Umm … what … what was the question?"

Another chuckle vibrated through her hands. "I do all the work and your hands stay on my shoulders unless I tell you otherwise. Okay?"

"Okay," she quickly agreed. Anything so that he would keep touching her.

Keeping her hands still turned out to be harder than it should have been. Tate took his time, stroking her through her clothes, alternating between mere wisps of touch she could barely feel, to working her until she was so close to coming before he eased back again.

She remembered the back and forth from their time together and both loved and hated it. Because as much as she wished he would hurry up and give her an earth-shattering orgasm, she also never wanted this moment to end.

Here, right now, with this Tate who wasn't cold and hard, she felt safe, protected, even treasured.

Too bad it couldn't last.

"Lift," he ordered, his hands on her hips lifting her off him. When she balanced on her feet, he quickly shoved her leggings and panties down over her hips. Then instead of settling her back on his lap, straddling his massive thighs, he leaned her back a little so he could lift one of her legs, freeing it from the leggings, then hooked it over his shoulder. When he did the same with her other leg, tossing the clothes aside, it left her wide open and bare to him.

Maybe she should be embarrassed considering how he'd treated her, but the pure fire of desire burning in his eyes muted everything else.

He wanted her.

Wanted her more than he wanted to breathe, if his sharp intake of air was anything to go by.

Those huge hands of his cupped her now bare backside and lifted her, then his nose was buried against her center, and he was breathing her in. Small puffs of air accompanied each kiss as he pressed one to each of her inner thighs, and then one against her opening.

Then, finally, that hot mouth of his was on her.

He licked, he nipped, he sucked, his tongue plunged inside of her.

There was no hesitation, no holding back now, he worked her higher, and higher, and higher until it felt like she had taken up residence in the heavens themselves.

His mouth latched onto her bundle of nerves and when he sucked hard, and his teeth raked across the sensitive bud, pleasure exploded inside her.

Tate didn"t let up, he continued to suck, flicking her bud with the tip of his tongue, then swirling it across the trembling little bundle of nerves, bringing her another powerful explosion.

Still, he wouldn't stop.

Her hands tangled in his hair, and Scarlett wasn't sure if she was trying to push him away or beg for another orgasm.

Words tumbled from her lips, but she couldn't even understand them.

He'd given her exactly what she wanted.

Right now, there was no room for thoughts, all she could do was feel.

A third orgasm slammed into her, and her entire body was shaking from the force of it as Tate lifted her like she weighed nothing at all and slammed into her in one thrust.

Because he was the kind of man who cared enough about a woman to make sure sex was good for her, even as he thrust into her at a near frenetic pace his fingers worked her towards a fourth orgasm, which fired through her at the same time she felt him find his own release.

As delightful aftershocks continued to pulse through her, Scarlett sunk against him, content to stay right where she was, in this perfect pleasure-filled little bubble, for the rest of her life.

"Sorry, babe, I"ve got to get rid of the condom and clean you up," Tate's voice murmured by her ear as one of his hands swept the length of her spine.

Honestly, she didn"t remember him putting the condom on, had no idea where it had even come from, she'd been too stuck in post-orgasm haze, but she loved that he had been careful, and that he wanted to take care of her now. Not only did it warm her heart, but it gave her a sense of peace because now she knew that Tate was on her side.

He no longer thought she was guilty.

January 16th

1:19 A.M.

Sex with Scarletthad been stupid.

Letting her fall asleep on his lap stupider still.

Tate couldn't deny that the sex they had shared earlier had been out of this world good. Watching Scarlett come apart so totally that complete gibberish had been coming out of her mouth as she begged and pleaded simultaneously for him to stop and to give her more, was intoxicating.

Far too easily he could allow himself to get addicted to her.

To her sweet scent, her breathy moans, her soft touch, her lyrical voice, and her big doe eyes.

But he couldn't let himself forget the facts.

Scarlett was messed up in something dangerous. Just because if she was guilty at all it was because she had likely agreed to sell Raul the Reactivator out of desperation because she had been coerced, it didn"t mean she still hadn"t done it. Instead of trusting all of Prey's resources to keep her and her team safe, she'd picked the wrong road, and now she was so far down it there was a chance she could never find her way back.

There was zero future for them.

Zero.

None.

Nada.

Wasn't going to happen.

This woman who snuggled so trustingly against him, deep in sleep, completely vulnerable, wasn't his to keep.

Even if fate hadn"t brought them back together there had never been a chance for them. Nothing had changed, he still wasn't looking for marriage and forevers. He didn"t want to fall in love, and he wasn't going to keep using Scarlett for sex knowing he wasn't going to ever be able to give her what she wanted.

Wishing things were different wasn't going to change anything. They wanted completely different things out of life, were on completely different paths, had had completely different childhoods and models of what love looked like.

So why, when he held her sleeping form tucked against his chest, did everything feel so right?

Denying her sex would have been the right thing to do. Scarlett wasn't thinking clearly, had been traumatized, and might very well have been trying to distract him so she could escape. Only deep down he knew she wasn't, that she just wanted to forget for a while, but he should have been the clear-headed one. He'd taken advantage no matter that Scarlett had been the one to initiate things.

"What am I going to do with you, little fighter?" he whispered as he stroked her back. He kept asking himself that question, but he was no closer to figuring out the answer.

A beep on his phone had his attention snapping away from the sleeping woman.

The alarm for his security system had just been tripped.

Reaching over, he snatched up his cell phone from the coffee table beside the armchair where they were sitting—Scarlett had suggested the couch, but he thought he had a better chance of remaining awake in case she tried anything in the armchair—and looked at the alert.

Someone was in his driveway.

The entire property was rigged with sensors that would allow him to know the second anyone set foot on a single inch of his property. Call him paranoid, but his ex-stepmother knew that he knew his father was innocent and that she was the one dealing drugs. There was a chance that she or one of her gang friends would try something stupid to silence him. So, he had upgraded his system with cameras and sensors everywhere.

Better safe than sorry.

Now the camera showed four men slinking down his driveway.

Not law enforcement or men from any of the agencies.

Raul's men.

Had to be.

But how had they found him?

Throwing a gaze at the sleeping woman. There was no way she could have alerted anyone that she was here, he'd been with her the entire time. Even if he hadn"t, her luring Raul's men here to kill him didn"t vibe with the incident in his car earlier, she could have let them kill him and gone with them.

Even though doubts tried their best to shove their way into his mind he did his best to shove them right back out again. He'd brought her here because deep down he knew he could trust her, knew she needed protection, that was what he had to focus on. Nothing else.

Gently he shook her awake, then set her on her feet before him.

"Tate?" she asked sleepily, her hands grabbing onto his forearms to steady herself as she swayed, still half asleep.

"Get dressed," he ordered. There was no time to talk anything through with her, they needed to get out of there while they still stood a chance.

"What? Why?"

"We got company," he growled as he shoved past her to grab his weapon. Thankfully, no lights were on, and there was every chance that whoever was about to break in believed both he and Scarlett would be upstairs in bed.

"Company?" Scarlett whisper shouted as she lunged for her leggings and sweater.

That move wound up saving her life.

The roar of gunfire combined with shattering glass as his front windows were destroyed filled the night.

Throwing himself to the side, he grabbed Scarlett's wrist, ignoring her pained yelp as he pressed too tightly on her wounds and dragged her with him behind the couch. Not much protection but better than nothing.

Or was it?

Scarlett was still there, and wherever she went gunfire seemed to follow.

She hadn"t been lying when she'd said someone had been in her home right before she went running out of it. The bruises on her neck corroborated that story. And it was true that she had saved his life in taking that bullet, yet here they were again, same story, different page.

The problem was, he couldn't get a read on Scarlett because his emotions kept getting in the way and that allowed the only crack it needed for his issues with his dad and the role he'd played in them to creep in.

From the first moment he laid eyes on her, he'd known she was different and had the power to shake up his life and change everything. He just hadn"t known she was going to wind up shaking up his life like this.

"Put your clothes on," he ordered as he ran scenarios through his mind. He didn"t have enough weapons on him to handle a full-scale assault. He had to get himself and Scarlett out of there. That was the priority. Get Scarlett someplace safe and then he and his team could go and hunt down Raul Castillo and every single one of his men.

Raul deserved to die, and not just because he was a notorious weapons trafficker, but because of everything he'd done to Scarlett.

As soon as Scarlett had her clothes back on, he grabbed her hand. The shooting had stopped which meant the men were either gone or they were going to come inside to assess the damage they'd caused. Likely the shooting was to flush him and Scarlett out. They had no vehicle since his was mostly destroyed, and while drivable it wasn't going to be any use as a getaway vehicle.

If the men thought they were going to exit the building from the ground floor then they'd do the opposite.

Dragging Scarlett along with him, Tate headed upstairs, then down the hall to the stairs that led to the attic. Pulling on the hanging rope, the steps appeared from the ceiling, and he pulled Scarlett up with him.

She came willingly, not fighting him, and her fingers had curled around his tight enough to hurt. Again, she wasn't acting like someone who wanted to get away, she was acting like someone scared and clinging to the only thing they trusted to keep them safe.

In the attic, he opened the small window down the end. It was just big enough for them to climb through it. From there, they could climb into the tree beside the house, jump from it to one in the neighbor's yard, climb down it, jump some fences, and get back onto the street on the other side of his block.

Then he and Scarlett were going to talk, and she was going to tell him how she'd been pulled into all of this, and so help him, he was going to do whatever it took to get the truth out of her.

No more lies.

No more games.

No more distractions.

Scarlett Madden was going to tell him what he wanted to know, and then he'd decide what to do with her.