Aflame (Fall Away #4)(36)

But honestly . . . , he continued, it’s a hell of a turn-on watching another man have what I want.

Yeah, just like me seeing him with another woman. I hated it, and it hurt, but it made me feel possessive, too. It made me want to fight.

In fact, I’m steel-rod straight right now.

My lungs emptied, and I dragged my bottom lip through my teeth, almost smiling, but I stopped myself. Jared—hard and ready—was a sight that never failed to make my mouth water. I pictured him holding himself right now, even though I was lying down and I couldn’t see him.

It was another minute before he texted again.

You look hot. You should take off that sweatshirt before you go to bed.

My eyes rounded, and I shot off the bed, gaping out my French doors. He didn’t see me, did he? It was dark in here. Light over there. I ran my hand though my hair, shame heating my face.

Peeking to get my line of sight out the doors, I saw Jared still standing in the golden glow of the lamp that he’d turned on before. Even through the tree and the darkness, I could see the self-satisfied look in his eyes before he looked down and texted once more.

I remember everything, Tate, he texted. And I know you do, too.

I let phone drop to the bed, seeing the amusement in his eyes turn to a dark threat as he pulled the drapes closed and disappeared.

Fuck.





Chapter 8


Tate

I pounded along the sidewalk, sneakers cushioning the impact as I leaped over the curb and across the street. Three Days Grace’s “I Hate Everything About You” blared through my earbuds, and I was covered in sweat from my stomach up to my head.

I was in good shape, and I normally didn’t push for speed on my runs, but the fact that I was gulping in air let me know that I’d gone too far and hard. I never got out of breath on my regular morning jogs.

Slowing to a walk as I stepped onto the sidewalk on my side of the street, I pulled up the hem of my black tank top and wiped off my face.

My cropped black stretch pants were damp with my sweat, and the fabric itched my thighs.

They were pissing me off.

My ponytail dragging across my back was pissing me off. My aching feet, and the fact that I hadn’t managed to run my unwanted energy out of my body, both pissed me off.

I hadn’t been this pissed off in a long time.

I’d woken to the sound of Jared’s motorcycle piercing through my sleep like a flood of hot water over my skin, and I lay in bed, flattened to the mattress, suddenly desperate for one of his morning visits. I’d always been in the mood more in the mornings, and having his naked body nestled between my legs, begging for entry, used to be a damn nice way to wake up.

But he’d sped off, and I certainly didn’t want what my body might have craved.

I walked into my house, set my keys, along with my iPod and earbuds, on the entryway table, and walked into the kitchen, Madman trailing behind me. Firing up my laptop on the table, I proceeded with making an omelet while I downed two bottles of water and chopped some fruit.

It had been hard to try to eat healthy with the schedule I kept. The hospital always had boxes of Krispy Kremes, cookies, and other treats floating around, and since I was either reading at the library, reading at home, or working on my car when I wasn’t working or at school, I had a hard time not grabbing what was convenient in a rush. Thankfully, my weekends were free, so I food prepped by premaking salads and healthy snacks.

Although I did still snatch up a chocolate-glazed doughnut any chance I got.

Sitting down at the table, I dialed my father for our once-a-week video chat.

“Hey, Dad,” I greeted him, cutting into a piece of my omelet with spinach, mushrooms, and cheese. “How’s beautiful Italy? Staying away from all of the wine, right?” I teased, stuffing the loaded fork into my mouth.

“Actually, wine is good for the heart,” he pointed out with laughter in his blue eyes. My eyes.

“Yeah, one glass,” I clarified. “Not five, okay?”

He nodded. “Touché.”

My dad wasn’t big on alcohol, but I knew he’d taken a particular liking to the food in certain countries where he’d been assigned over the years. Italy being one of them.

But a few years ago his lifestyle finally took a toll on his body. He had a hectic schedule, little consistency in his routine, poor eating habits because he was always on the go, and little to no exercise due to the travel. He had two heart attacks while abroad and didn’t even tell me. I had been livid when I found out.

Now I stayed in better contact to nag him more. I’d dipped into my savings and sent him a treadmill for Christmas one year, and I even scoped out the grocery stores in whatever area he lived in, so I could push him to their salad bars and organic selections.

Thankfully, he put up with it. He’d been my only parent for about twelve years now, and he finally got a clue and realized I needed him around for a long time to come.

“Are you at the house?” he asked, looking around me. “I thought you were staying with Madoc and Fallon.”

I shrugged, concentrating on my food. “It’s the weekend. The workers aren’t here, and I wanted to get some yard work in. Making it presentable, you know?”

The yards were actually in great shape. Jax had been taking care of everything while my father was away and I was at school. I’d really just wanted to be home, and I knew, no matter how I tried to hide it, my father could read me well.