Tate wiped his bloody hand on the back of his jeans. “Jesus, sweetheart, not in any stretch of my imagination did I think you would have thought that entailed sleeping with whoever the f**k you felt like along the way. I didn’t realise you were that easy,” he said in disappointment.
I sucked in a breath and watched Jared’s face turn so furious I thought the windows would blow out.
He fisted his hands and rounded a punch to Tate’s jaw with a loud crack. Tate’s head snapped back, and he held his hand up to gingerly touch the side of his face.
“Don’t you dare say another word about Evie, you motherfucker,” Jared growled.
“Okay, that’s enough the pair of you. Tate out,” I ordered, pointing towards the door as he prodded his injured jaw with his fingers. “Wait for me downstairs. Jared, you…” I paused. He what? “You sit down and I’ll check your stitches. Henry...” Henry waited in amusement for my order. “Go make me some bacon and eggs. And pancakes,” I added.
Amazingly enough, everyone listened to what I said, except for the part where Henry made me breakfast.
“Christ, Jared, what the f**k was that about?”
I threw my arms up in frustration as I flung the sheet to the floor in a giant fit. I shrugged on my robe and moved to the bed where my hero now sat so I could inspect his stitches.
“Lie down and roll over,” I ordered.
Ignoring my order, he yanked me down hard and caught my mouth in a hot and hungry kiss. Forgetting myself for a moment, I returned it with equal enthusiasm.
“Morning, baby,” he murmured when he pulled away for a breath.
Me? I didn’t need to breathe.
“Morning.” I grinned.
He groaned when I moved in for another kiss, and one of his hands slid underneath my robe, moving over to cup my ass while the other started to yank at the knotted belt of my robe.
“Christ,” he muttered, breathing heavily as he pulled away. “You’re all tied up like Fort Knox.”
“I know.” I smacked his hand. “Hands off. Tate is waiting downstairs. I need to go clean up your mess.”
“My mess?” He laughed. “You’re the one that dated him.”
This was true but relationship rule number one was to never admit guilt.
“Yes, but you’re the one that decked him,” I replied logically.
I eventually got him to roll over and checked his stitches, which were okay, amazingly enough.
After getting dressed in a short pair of denim shorts and a fitted neon pink cotton shirt that read in sparkly blue font: With a shirt like this who needs pants? I went downstairs, picking up a wet wash cloth along the way for Tate.
The duplex appeared deserted apart from Tate who was perched on the edge of the couch. Shifting closer, I gently dabbed away the blood on his face while he eyed me carefully. It wasn’t too bad, just a small trickle.
“I’m sorry, Tate. That wasn’t planned.”
He grabbed my wrist so I'd stop my ministrations and look him in the eye. “No, Evie. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. Fuck it…I was angry because I really like you.”
He let go of my wrist and I folded the cloth awkwardly. “Tate… I―”
“No, you don’t need to explain. I know you were upfront about casual and so was I. Hell, we’ve only been out a couple of times.”
I moved backwards as he stood up. “I should get going.”
“Okay, um, friends?” I cringed at the cliché, but I’d enjoyed Tate’s company, and I wanted him to know he was always welcome to keep in touch.
“Ah, sure, okay.”
I saw him to the door before returning upstairs where Jared was pacing the room like a caged lion. He pounced when I came back in and tossed me at the bed like I was a lightweight.
“Wait!” I shouted when he stalked up the bed on his hands and knees. Glaring, I pushed at his chest to stop his advance. “I’m still mad at you.”
He paused, frowning. “Mad at me for what? Defending your honour?”
I had to bite my cheeks to stop the laugh. Defending my honour? How sweet was that? My voice softened as I spoke. “Jared, you did it with your fists.”
“That’s how men work, Evie. We punch it out and move on. You women have your own way, and I’m not interfering in that.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s our way?”
“Talking it out, baby. Women use words,” he replied smoothly and hovering over me, leaned in to plant a kiss on my neck.
I figured that was his polite version of our way but with his heavy weight pressed against me and his lips nibbling their way up my neck, I slowly lost the will to be angry. “Wait. I need a shower.”
Food too, I thought, but I left that part out at the risk he might offer to make me something.
“Shower it is,” he conceded.
Since I was heavy into water conservation, we had to shower together. The fact that it involved being able to ogle Jared’s nak*d body had nothing to do with my commendable pursuit of saving the earth one shower at a time.
Wasting no time, Jared, in what I was delightfully beginning to think was his signature move, picked me up and pressed me into the tiled wall, muttering something about not being done with me yet.
I didn’t object, the urge and the moment to speak had long since passed. In fact, all I could manage was a moan as he slid his way inside my body, his mouth meeting mine. I held on tight as my tongue twined with his and was eventually rewarded with a trip to the stars, seeing them dance wildly behind closed lids as my head tilted back in utter pleasure. His hands gripped the skin under my thighs forcefully as he moved and shuddered. When he groaned and looked into my eyes after he’d buried his head in my neck, I was rewarded with hooded eyelids and lips curved in a sexy smile when he set me on my feet. It was a look of pure male satisfaction and had me looping my arms around his neck and pulling his head down so my lips could meet his in a long, sweet kiss.
Dried and dressed again, I was now starting to feel faint, but watching Jared, a towel wrapped about his slim h*ps while he stood in front of the bathroom mirror shaving, was fantastically distracting. His muscles contracting as he swiped and rinsed was making me feel positively sweaty.
“You hungry?” I asked.
“For you, baby.” He grinned wickedly as he looked at me in the mirror.
I licked my lips suggestively and squealed when he grabbed my hand, spun me around, and slammed me up against the vanity. He nudged my legs apart with his knee and wedged himself between them.
“Teasing me?” he murmured.
I giggled when he rubbed his face in my neck, tickling me with his teeth, and I gasped and writhed as shaving foam flew everywhere.
“You taste like shaving cream,” he muttered, pulling back.
“Really?” My sarcasm came to the fore as I snatched a towel and wiped at the mess on my neck. “Well, I hope that’ll hold you till lunch.”
He grinned at me as I wiped his face with the towel, revealing a smooth jaw and a dimple. His green eyes were assessing me tenderly and as a sharp twinge pierced my heart, my stomach pitched. I was starting to think that maybe I was going be sick, and it had nothing to do with lack of food.
“Shit.”
I looked up from tossing the towel into the sink to see Jared’s gentle expression shift to concern, his body tense.
I froze. “What?”
“Baby, I didn’t use anything. Shit. Got carried away.”
My mouth opened in shock.
Shit was right. Safe sex spokespeople it seemed we were not. I wasn’t even on the pill because I had the memory of a goldfish. I was unreliable.
He placed his hands firmly on my shoulders, rubbing them up and down as he looked at me. “I’m clean, baby, you should know that.”
“Well goody for the both of us because I’ve always been safe, but one thing I’m not... is on the pill.”
His hands held firm on my h*ps and I felt his fingertips dig in at my words. “You aren’t? Why not?”
“I’m unreliable,” I said. “I forget to take it.”
Jesus. What if I got pregnant?
I felt his hands relax, sliding up my waist to wrap around and hug me close. “Baby...” his green eyes glanced down at me possessively as he read the panicked expression on my face “...we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. Don’t stress, okay?”
Easy enough to say, but somehow this relationship seemed to be moving at the speed of a supersonic jet. We’d been together all of one night, had sex twice, and already there was smashed glassware, mayhem and fisticuffs, and now a potential pregnancy scare. Not to mention he was looking at me softly as though the idea of me carrying around a mini Jared was a freaking marvellous one.
I fought the urge to laugh hysterically and sucked in shallow breaths until hyperventilation seemed imminent.
“Are you okay?” he asked, watching me with concern as I struggled for breath.
“Yep,” I squeaked. “Peachy.”
Surprisingly, the bathroom door had yet to be bashed down, so I opened it and headed for the bedroom.
He followed behind me, and dropping the towel, started to slide on underwear and a pair of faded, worn in jeans.
“Make a doctors appointment for this afternoon to go on the pill. I have to get to work soon, so message me the time, and I’ll come pick you up and go with you,” he ordered. “I’ll ring you every day to remind you to take it if that’s what we need to do. Babe?”
“What?” I muttered.
“Did you hear me?”
I nodded distractedly as my eyes scanned his shirtless torso. I loved his lack of tattoos. Too much ink was becoming common these days, and I admired just the one on his arm, its complex, heartfelt meaning not detracting from all of his beautiful, golden skin. I still hadn’t had my chance to run my tongue along the words and bit my lip at the thought of doing it later.
“Appointment with doctor. Message you,” I repeated, pulse racing as I watched him shrug on a shirt. “Will you be okay to work today?” I asked, eyeing his stitches.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and started slipping on his shoes. “Yeah, all good. I’ve got shit to do. Coby and Travis will be here soon. Got a meeting to deal with.”
My stomach growled loudly as I brushed through the waves of my hair.
“Right. I’ll make breakfast,” I offered and left for the kitchen.
Frog and Cooper wandered in from next door. Cooper headed to the chair at the breakfast bar in the kitchen while Frog took a running leap for the couch, grabbing the remote and flicking fast enough to give me channel whiplash. I looked away as white spots dotted my vision.
“Lunch time, Sandwich,” Cooper announced as he watched me peruse the fridge. “Watcha making?”
I turned so he could see my raised brows. “Do I look like Martha freaking Stewart to you?”
I didn’t actually mind cooking food for all and sundry, but I didn’t want to advertise the fact. Otherwise, I’d be pestered to do it all the time. Besides, it’s not like I was doing their laundry or anything. In fact, I’d never seen them do laundry, yet they always had clean clothes. “Who does your laundry?”