CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER TEN

Havana yanked open the door of the industrial washing machine and crouched beside it. The laundromat facilities located in the basement of her complex were pretty decent. She most appreciated the ceiling fan—it could get seriously stuffy and hot in a room full of dryers. The basement was brightly lit to compensate for the small windows, despite shifters seeing well in the dark. Her devil, however, didn’t like it down there. Didn’t like the too-strong smells of detergent, softener, bleach, and hot metal.

She’d gotten home from the rec center an hour ago and, leaving Bailey and Aspen to catch up on the newest episode of a show they were addicted to, had headed to the basement.

It was empty of people, but there was plenty of noise. The whirring of the ceiling fans, the glugging and slurping of the washing machines, the clacking of zippers against the metal drum of the dryers.

Having transferred her clothes from the laundry basket into the machine, Havana added detergent powder and fabric softener. She’d just finished inserting quarters into the slot when she heard the squeak of hinges behind her. Havana switched on the machine and then glanced over her shoulder. She tensed.

Tate.

He looked as goddamn tempting as always, especially in that navy tee that stretched tight across his taut chest and showed off the badass tattoos on his arms. Her body instantly went into meltdown, and that all-too-familiar sexual chemistry flickered to life.

Oh, help.

Knowing there could only be one reason he’d sought her out, she turned to fully face him. “You have news about the jaguars or Gideon?”

“No, not yet.” He took another fluid step into the room. “I went to your apartment. You weren’t there. Camden said he saw you head to the elevator with a laundry basket, so I figured I’d find you here. How’ve you been?”

Havana hesitated, taken aback by the everyday question he’d casually thrown at her … like they engaged in regular chit-chat all the time. “Good.”

He gave a slow nod. “Glad to hear it.”

Glad to hear it? She rinsed the granules of detergent from her fingers in the stainless-steel sink, dried her hands with paper towels, and then tossed the now-wet towels into the trash. “If you don’t have intel to pass on, why are you here?”

His brow flicked up. “I need a reason to come see you?”

“Well, yeah, since we’re not sleeping together anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

Havana did a slow blink. “Friends?” He had to be kidding.

“Why not?”

No, he wasn’t kidding, she realized. She cocked her head, wondering if he understood what a kick in the teeth for her it was to hear him offer her friendship. “You want that? Really?”

“What I really want is to fuck you so hard and long you scream until your throat’s raw, but you already know that.” Tate cursed softly and raised his hands. “I’m not here to try to convince you to back down. I just … I wanted to see you. Is that so bad?”

Her heart squeezed. “It’s not bad, but you still shouldn’t be here.” Really, she hadn’t expected to see him for a while. She’d thought he’d be absolutely intent on giving her space purely out of fear that he’d otherwise give her mixed signals.

He had to know he’d make it harder for her to move on if he showed up whenever he felt like it. Did that not matter to him at all?

“Come have coffee with me.”

Her brow creased. “What?”

“The café doesn’t shut for another hour. We can grab a drink. Sit. Talk.”

“Talk about what?”

He shrugged. “General things.”

“You’re not serious.”

“It’s just coffee, Havana.”

“Just coffee,” she echoed, an edge to her voice. “You say that like it’s nothing. Harmless, even. Yet, you never took me for coffee before. Never took me anywhere other than to your house. So it’s not quite ‘nothing’ in your book, or we’d have done it at least once in the past.”

“But as you reminded me, we’re not sleeping together anymore, so our old boundaries don’t apply.”

Oh, he had some front. She hadn’t once asked him to give her more; she’d respected that he couldn’t, and she’d walked away without dishing out any blame. Could he not give her this one thing and just keep his distance for a while?

Apparently not.

The only reason Havana didn’t chew a chunk out of his ass was that she didn’t want to prolong this conversation. She just wanted him to go.

She took a long breath—a movement that physically hurt, since her ribs felt so damn tight. “Maybe someday in the future we can build a friendship and meet up for coffee or whatever on occasion, but that’s not going to happen right now. I need some space from you. We’ll still work together on tracking Gideon and putting a stop to the auctions, of course,” she added quickly.

“You’re telling me we can’t be friends?”

“I’m not trying to be a bitch, I’m not striking out at you. I’m just being honest. It wouldn’t be enough for me right now, Tate.” And it burned that it would be enough for him; that he thought he could so easily keep things platonic.

He clenched his jaw. “Isn’t it better than nothing at all?”

“It will be at some point, but not yet. Like I said, I need some space from you for a while. So unless the subject matter is Gideon, his jaguars, the auctions, or a landlord-thing, I don’t want you to call or text or visit.”

Tate felt his chest tighten. He knew he should leave her be—he couldn’t give her what she wanted, and she clearly wasn’t going to settle for anything less. Plus, giving her some breathing room to move on would be best for them both. Especially since it was impossible for him to be around her without wanting to be deep inside her body. But everything in him, including his cat, rebelled at the idea of granting her request.

She’d always been like a damn magnet to him. It was like she dragged him into her orbit. Initially, it had been purely on a physical level. But that changed when he got to know her. It was like she spoke to something inside him. He couldn’t really explain it. There was no battling or ignoring that kind of pull. It haunted you. Incited you. Badgered you. So there’d be nothing simple about staying away from her. There never had been—hence why he stood right in front of her.

His eyes lowered to the pulse in her neck—it was beating fast and hard. He wanted to nuzzle that neck. Wanted to draw her luscious scent into his lungs and drown in it. Wanted to bite down hard and leave a mark. None of which he’d do.

He just needed to see her. Touch her. Smell her. He hadn’t really expected her to agree to the “friends” thing, but it had been worth a shot if it meant he didn’t have to keep his distance from her.

His cat purred, happy to see her, wanting to be closer to her. Granting the feline what he wanted, Tate inched forward, glad when she didn’t step back. “Haven’t you missed me just a little?”

“It doesn’t really matter either way, does it?”

“It matters to me.”

“Then no, I haven’t missed you.”

Sensing it was a barefaced lie, he felt his mouth twitch. “I see. I guess it’s a good thing I have thick skin, or that might have wounded me.” Unable to stand this close without touching her, he stroked his knuckles down the column of her throat. He raked his eyes over her face, taking in every curve and freckle—he had them all memorized. “You’re so beautiful you sometimes take my breath away, you know.”

She gave him a wary look. “Tate.”

“Especially your eyes. They grab hold of a person by the throat.” He loved staring into them when she came.

She licked her lower lip. “Look, I have a few errands to run, so …”

Loosely fisting the ponytail that hung over her shoulder, he let the silky mass slide through his hand. “If you want the truth, I don’t think that us being friends would be enough for me either. But can’t we try?”

“In the future, yes. Just not right now.”

Tate ever so slowly nodded, but not a single cell in his body was in agreement. He didn’t want to be a figure that hovered on the periphery of her world—a mere landlord, a casual acquaintance who had no right to touch her. How the fuck could he ever sit and engage in small-talk with her, like he didn’t know every inch of her body? Like he didn’t miss what they’d once had? Like she meant nothing to him?

Needing to touch her again—and it was a need, one he was absolutely shit at fighting—he danced the tips of his fingers down one side of her face. “Never should have pursued you. Not when I suspected that letting you go wouldn’t be so simple. But I had to have you. I needed to know if sex between us would be as good as my gut and my cock told me it would be.” He lowered his mouth an inch. “It was better.”

Like that, the air between them thickened and crackled … as if memories of their time together charged the atmosphere. His cock, already hard and heavy, throbbed against his zipper.

She swallowed, and her eyes flared with need. “How’s Ashlynn?” she asked, and he knew she’d done it in an attempt to break the spell between them. It didn’t work.

“I couldn’t give a damn. Neither should you.” He cupped one side of her neck and breezed his thumb over the delicate line of her jaw. “I dreamed about you a few nights ago. I dreamed I had you beneath me, your hair spread all over my pillow, while I moved in and out of you. There was a bite mark on your neck that was weeping blood.” He’d liked the sight of it a little too much both during his dream and after. “I woke up hard as a fucking steel spike. Jerked off to the thought of pounding in your pussy until you screamed.” And he’d kept in his mind’s eye that little detail of her wearing his mark the whole time.

She closed her eyes, as if to block out his words. “It’s not fair of you to do this.”

He lowered his forehead to hers. “I know.” But he couldn’t stop himself.

“You have to go.”

“Need one taste of you first. Just one.” He was so starved for her he almost groaned at the mere thought of tasting her again.

She let out a ragged breath. “Not a good idea.”

He framed her face with his hands and pressed a soft kiss to first one eyelid then the other. The electric sexual tension amplified and purred against his skin. He feathered his lips over her face, dabbing gentle, barely-there kisses everywhere but her mouth.

She didn’t once open her eyes, but her breathing picked up. So did his. When her fingers dug into his arms, he thought she’d try to tug them away. She didn’t.

“One taste,” he whispered against her mouth, his lips nibbling hers, so fucking hungry for her he was surprised he didn’t shake with it. “Open for me, baby. I need this.” He suckled on her lower lip. “Op—” He blinked as she shoved him hard, sending him skidding back a few feet.

Condemning herself for being so damn weak when it came to this male, Havana pointed a shaking finger at him. “You don’t get to do this.”

His nostrils flared. “Havana—”

“You gave me up. I was the one to end the fling, yes, but you soon learned why. Did you offer me what I needed? No. You wanted things to go back to the way they were. And when you realized that wasn’t going to happen, you took me home and then walked away. So you don’t get to come here and pull this shit.”

“I didn’t walk away because you don’t matter. I did it because you do matter. I’m doing what’s best for you.”

“Bullshit. When it comes to us, you’ve only ever done what’s best for you. It was best for you to have boundaries, so we had them. It was best for you to have nothing more than casual, so you tried to talk me into changing my mind when I ended it. And now you’re here, tossing me crumbs from your table, so I’ll struggle to forget you and move forward. That is definitely not best for me. But it’s what you want, so you did it.”

He stalked to her, his eyes hard. “It’s not like that. You’ve got things twisted in your head, and maybe that’s on me, since I am pretty selfish when it comes to you—I won’t deny that. But I’m not bullshitting you about this, Havana. I don’t know how to give you more without hurting you.”

She threw up her arms. “I don’t know what that means.”

“My cat … he’s obsessed with you. But he does that—focuses all his energy onto one female, gets all wrapped up in her—then he later pulls away from her out of goddamn nowhere. He’s done it ever since Ashlynn.”

Thrown, Havana could only stare at him.

“There were times he was so infatuated with a woman that I thought he’d finally gotten over his shit,” Tate went on, looking so tired all of a sudden. “But I was wrong every time. I don’t know what he’s looking for in a partner, but he never fucking finds it. So then he withdraws, leaving women confused and hurt. Shallow flings with firm boundaries are just simpler. Nobody has any expectations. Nobody gets hurt. There are no recriminations when I’m forced to walk away.”

Havana wished he hadn’t told her, because she didn’t want to “understand.” She wanted to hold onto her anger so that it would drown out the hurt. But how could she not feel bad for both Tate and his cat? “Sounds like your feline has commitment issues. Or he withdraws to protect himself from further hurt. It would be understandable if he just didn’t want to put himself out there again.”

Havana would be just as averse to relationships if the situation was reversed. Her devil? Well, she’d probably rage about it for the rest of her days. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner about your cat’s struggles?”

Tate lifted a brow. “Would you admit your devil’s failings to others?”

No, because she was as protective of the devil as the animal was of Havana. Predators didn’t admit to weaknesses. In which case it was no small thing that he’d opened up to her about this.

Havana rubbed at her chest. Right then, she truly ached for both Tate and his cat. All they’d done was love and commit themselves so fully to a woman that they’d thrown themselves wide open to the concept of imprinting. In return, that woman had tossed it all back in their faces. They hadn’t deserved that.

She frowned as a thought struck her. “I know your ex screwed you both, but it’s possible he’s holding back from other women because he nevertheless wants her back.”

His cat’s face scrunched up, and Tate couldn’t help but snicker. “Trust me when I say that he has no lingering feelings for her. He just can’t forgive or get past her betrayal. He refuses to let it go.”

“Pallas cats can sure hold a grudge.” She sighed, her shoulders drooping. “I get why you stick to casual now. I’d probably do the same thing, in your shoes. I appreciate you sharing all that with me. I know it couldn’t have been easy. I won’t repeat it to anyone.”

“I know you won’t.” Tate trusted her completely, but he couldn’t be so sure his cat had the same faith in her. He took a slow step closer. “I wish I met you before Ashlynn fucked up my cat’s ability to trust.”

“It might not be that he can’t trust another female. It might be that he’s just not willing to try.”

“True. I can’t be sure either way.” He tilted his head. “Still pissed at me?”

She let out a heavy exhale. “No. Like I said, I understand now why you stick to casual flings. But the friends-thing still isn’t going to happen for a while. Turning up here to ‘visit’ me … it isn’t fair to me, Tate, and you know it. You know you can’t do this again.”

His shoulders tensed. “Babe—”

“I’ve never asked you for anything. Not even for a real relationship, despite how much I wanted one with you. I respected your wish to stick with casual. I didn’t condemn you for it, didn’t bitch about it. But I need something from you now.”

He ground his teeth, because he knew what was coming. “Havana, it’s not—”

“I need you to give me as much space as you reasonably can so I can move on. That’s all, Tate. You can at least give me that, can’t you?”

“You truly believe you’ll be able to see me as nothing more than your landlord? You really think it’ll be that easy for you to just cut me out of your life?”

Havana gave him a sad smile. “You were never really in it, were you, Tate?”

The door creaked open, and Bailey entered. She came to a sudden halt, her eyes widening. “Oh, um … I can go, if you guys are in the middle of something.”

“No, stay,” said Havana, glad of the interruption. The conversation needed to end yesterday. “Tate’s leaving now.” He didn’t move, though. Seconds of tense silence ticked by as he speared her with that unbearably intense gaze. The silence grated on her raw nerves.

Finally, he sighed, and his expression morphed into one of resignation. She’d finally gotten through to him; she could see it. But it was a bittersweet victory, because it meant they’d be virtual strangers from now on.

“You know where I am if you need me,” said Tate, his voice devoid of emotion. He gave Bailey a curt nod and then left.

As the door shut behind him, Havana swallowed hard, her stomach sinking. Hot tears stung the backs of her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t.

Bailey arched her brows. “What just happened here?”

“I finally made him hear me,” replied Havana. “But not before he tried coaxing ‘one last kiss’ out of me.” She’d almost given in. Almost allowed herself that luxury. Which wouldn’t have stopped at a kiss—she knew that as sure as she knew her own name. In no time at all, he’d have had her pinned against the wall drilling his cock into her. And part of her lamented that she hadn’t just let it happen.

“It could be that absence is making his heart grow fonder,” Bailey suggested.

“It’s making his dick grow harder, that’s about it.” She nearly jumped as one of the machines buzzed having reached the end of its cycle. Damn, the bastard had left her a wreck.

“Don’t be so sure about that. I’m not. Hey, I’m surprised your devil didn’t surface and claw his face for pushing you.”

Havana’s brows met as she realized something. “Actually, she’s not as miffed with him as she once was, not even after all the crap that happened just now.” She still had that mental door firmly closed, though.

“Really?”

“Really. I mean, she wasn’t exactly pleased to see him, but she didn’t snarl or anything. She just watched him closely.”

Bailey grinned. “Ah, she’s impressed by his persistence. She likes that it hasn’t been so easy to send him on his way.”

“I guess,” said Havana. “I suppose it’s soothing her wounded ego.”

“He’s also proving himself to be strong, tenacious, and highly focused on you—she’ll like all that. She’ll even respect it.”

Havana lifted one shoulder. “Maybe.”

“You do realize that if he wins her over and you keep turning him away, she’ll go from being ‘off’ with him to being annoyed with you, right?”

Actually, no, Havana hadn’t thought of that. “It won’t happen. I got through to him just now. He won’t be back unless it’s to discuss a landlord issue or something related to the auction business.”

“Aren’t you even a little smug that he struggles so much to stay away from you? I would be.”

“Not smug, but it does make me feel a tiny bit better about the entire situation. It’s not a good thing, though, because I need space from him. I’ve made that clear.”

“Don’t expect it to make much of a difference. You’ve made a lot of things ‘clear’ to Tate since you chose to walk away. It hasn’t stopped him from coming back to you again and again. Face it, he’s hooked. He just hasn’t accepted it yet.”

“Can’t say I agree with you on that. In any case, I’m done talking about him. Why didyou come looking for me? Is something wrong?”

“No, I was coming to let you know that Elle called and invited you, me, and Aspen to hang with her and Bree at the Tavern on Saturday night.”

The Tavern, a bar-slash-restaurant-slash-pool hall, was the pride’s local hangout. “What did you say?”

“I said I’d talk to you and Aspen and then get back to her. Aspen’s up for it. I’m all for a night out, although I prefer our usual bar near Enigma. But if we go far from home, we make it easier for Gideon’s goons to get near you. I’m not good with that. Plus, the Tavern is cool. And hanging out with pallas cats is always fun. Also, I like Elle and Bree. We had a blast with them last time.”

Havana smiled at the memory. Elle was a hoot, and Bree—who was both the primary omega and Alex’s mate—was probably the only person who had the ability to keep Elle out of trouble.

Havana’s smile dimmed as something occurred to her. “Tate might not like me hanging with his sister. I mean, I don’t think I’d like it if my ex bed-buddy hung out with my family—that being you and Aspen.”

“I don’t think Tate would begrudge you having fun with his sister. He’d probably like it, since it’ll mean you have backup if you need it while out.”

True. And Havana really could do with a night out. “All right, we’ll hit the Tavern with Elle and Bree on Saturday.”

“Awesome. By the way, don’t rush back upstairs. Take your time down here.”

“Why?”

Bailey pulled a face. “Well, Aspen’s animal and mine got into another brawl. My mamba bit her a few times. The bearcat got pissed and offloaded her anal glands on my snake, the dirty bitch. Don’t worry, Aspen dug out that special bleach you bought and scrubbed the floor to get rid of the stench, but it’s still just a little smelly up there.”

Havana shook her head, sighing. “Your mamba started the brawl, didn’t she?” It was more of an accusation than a question.

“Hey, the bearcat grabbed my snake and lashed her around like she was a goddamn rodeo whip.”

“Before or after your mamba bit her?”

“Before.”

“I’ll rephrase. Before or after your mamba first bit her?”

“Oh, after.”

Havana briefly flicked her gaze upward. “Is there any chance at all that maybe one day your snake will stop taunting Aspen’s bearcat purely for the sake of it?”

“You’ve asked me this question dozens of times before, and you always seem so surprised when I say no.”