Sweet Dreams (Colorado Mountain #2)(55)
I jerked back but not successfully out of his arms and my eyes narrowed on him. “I started to let myself go?”
“You know I don’t like a woman to carry extra weight,” he explained.
He could not be believed!
“I started eating because I sensed you were f**king around on me!” I shouted.
“Darling –”
“Stop calling me that!”
“You’re back,” he replied, his eyes going over my hair and down to my chest before coming back to mine, “better than ever.”
I stopped pushing against his wrists and pressed my hands against his chest. “Get out!”
He ignored me. “And we can be back and better than ever.”
“Seriously, this is not cool.”
His face got in my face. “I know what you’re doing with that guy. I get it. It hurts, honey, you got yours back. We both struck our blows, learned our lessons, now we can move on.”
“I wasn’t striking a blow, you jerk, we’re divorced,” I shouted, losing it. “You f**ked Hayley, carrying on with her for five years while we were committed to each other and bound legally! You wanted out and I let you out and moved on. Tate has not one thing to do with you!”
“Honey, you know you want me back. You practically begged to take me back even knowing what happened. You fell apart when I left.”
I started pushing, squirming in earnest, rearing back and shrieking, “Fuck you!”
Finally, I was getting somewhere. He was struggling to control me.
“Ree –”
“Let me…!”
I didn’t get out the word “go” because I was suddenly released but Brad wasn’t the one who released me. Tate was there, drenched in sweat wearing a white t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, black sweatpants which were cut off at mid-thigh and running shoes. We’d been so entrenched in our drama that we didn’t hear him come in.
Tate had hold of the back of Brad’s golf shirt, he pulled him back then let fly and Brad staggered five paces before he righted himself.
He planted his feet and scowled up at Tate. “Put your hand on me again and I’ll sue!” Brad shouted.
Tate advanced, not saying a word. Then he put his hand on Brad, scrunching the material of his shiny, blue golf shirt in one big fist and shoving him backwards to the door. Once there, he jerked him forward making Brad lurch like a ragdoll. Brad’s hands went to Tate’s wrist to pull it free, Tate leaned beyond Brad, yanked open the door and then shoved him through.
Brad reeled back and righted himself halfway across the wide hall.
“You ass**le!” Brad shouted.
“I see you again, it won’t be pretty. I find out she sees you again, you’ll be breathin’ through a f**kin’ tube. You get me?” Tate growled.
“Fuck you!” Brad yelled.
Tate shut the door. I stared at it, frozen to the spot.
Tate turned to me.
“How’d he get in here?” Tate asked.
I was still staring at the door but at his question my head jerked and I looked at him. “I opened it.”
“You opened it?” Tate asked and I was too overwrought by the latest scene to let his tone penetrate.
“You…” I swung an arm out indicating in its wide sweep the nightstand, “left your keycard. I thought it was you.”
Tate lifted up a hand and between two fingers was a keycard. Then he flicked his hand and the keycard went sailing. I watched it slice through the air and then flutter to the floor.
“Two of us in this room, Ace, two keycards,” he said and my eyes went to him. When they did, he jerked his hand, finger extended to the door. “Know what this is?”
“A door?” I asked stupidly.
“A peephole,” he bit back then moved his hand to flick the security latch closed. “Know what that is?”
“Captain –”
He advanced and the aggressive way he did it made me retreat. It was dawning on me he was pissed and he wasn’t pissed at Brad. He was pissed at me.
I stopped when my legs hit the chair to the desk. He stopped when he was in my space. I tilted my head way back to look at him.
“You got great hair, babe.”
“Tate –”
“Thick.”
“Tate –”
“Soft.”
“Tate,” I whispered.
“Shame it gets hacked off with a knife after some guy rapes you with that knife!” He finished on a roar.
My body jolted.
“Tate!”
“There’s bad guys out there, Ace. Bad. Do things to you that’ll make you glad you end up dead. You don’t open a goddamned door not knowin’ who’s behind it.”
“I thought it was you.”
“Well it wasn’t.”
“Tate –”
“He f**k you?” Tate asked suddenly and my head jerked again.
“Brad?” I asked back, confused.
Tate leaned in and bellowed, “Wood!”
“No!” I shouted back.
Then I was flying through the air. Literally flying through the air. I bounced once on the bed and then Tate was on top of me. He was wet, he was sweaty and his weight felt great. His mouth on mine, his tongue in my mouth felt even better.