Page 89 of Fighting for Scarlett

“No buts, Scarlett. Now look at me, did he hurt you?” Tate asked.

It was hard to look at Tate and not grab his face and shove it between her legs, let his tongue work its magic, and bring her at least a couple of seconds of relief.

“N-no,” she replied truthfully. All Raul had done was drug her, then he’d gotten a phone call and before he could carry through on the threats to let his men rape her to death, he had ordered someone to strap the bomb on her, told her she was going to die along with whoever was coming for her, and then left.

Almost like he was afraid to touch her, Tate’s hand hesitated for a moment before his palm cupped her cheek, and his fingertips caressed her sweat-dotted brow.

If she wasn’t so consumed by the drug she’d been given, Scarlett would have sworn it was relief in Tate’s eyes.

But he’d made it clear he didn’t care about her the same way she cared about him when he’d allowed her to get arrested.

A moan fell from her lips when the drug-induced arousal coursed through her system, and she shoved Tate’s hand away, worried that his touch would lead her to do something she couldn’t take back. It was one thing to crave Tate’s touch when she was in her right mind, when she could assess the consequences and decide if her heart could take another battering. It was another right now when her mind could focus on only one thing.

“Don’t, Tate,” she whispered when he reached for her again. Another wave of fire burned through her body, and she moaned and pressed her legs together. Tomorrow, when the drug was out of her system, she’d be mortified to know she’d been moaning and squirming like this, with her eyes dark with desire and her cheeks flushed with arousal, in front of men she didn't know well.

Ignoring her, he leaned over and scooped her up, shifting so he was sitting on the bed with her on his lap facing him. In this position, the thick ridge of his length nestled between her legs, pressing against her soaking-wet center. It felt so good that Scarlett moaned and rocked her hips for the moment, forgetting they had an audience.

“Tate, please,” she begged, her fingers curling into his clothes so tight her hands ached. But not worse than the gnawing feeling low in her belly that screamed at her to do something about it.

“Shh, baby, I can't, not like this, not when you can't consent,” he whispered against her ear as he drew her closer. His arms locked around her like steel bands, and he tucked her face against his neck. One hand rubbed circles on her back, and the other gripped her hip, keeping her close against him.

“I need it,” she whispered back, hating how desperate she was, that she was begging for a man who didn't want her, but that was how far gone she was.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know you do. But I won't touch you while you hate me.” His tone showed genuine regret, and it helped a little to know at least he had been conflicted about turning her in.

If lying would get him to touch her, then in this moment, Scarlett wasn’t above it. “I don’t hate you.”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Yeah, you do. You need to get an IV going, she’s got drugs in her system we need to flush out,” he said, presumably not to her since she couldn’t do anything right now but sit here and writhe in blissful agony.

“Timer says we have ten minutes to get this thing off her,” Ace said.

Right.

The bomb strapped to her chest.

Somehow, she’d forgotten about it.

That was how badly aroused she was, it was all she could think about.

Ten minutes wasn’t long. Certainly not enough time for Bubba to figure out how the bomb was put together and what wires to cut to disarm it.

“You all have to leave,” she said desperately. Earlier she had been prepared to die to prevent Raul from getting what he wanted. While she certainly didn't want her life to end here and now, more than that, she didn't want anyone else being taken out with her.

“Nah, honey, I got this.” A comforting hand landed on her shoulder, giving a single squeeze before disappearing. Bubba sounded so confident, and she wanted to believe him so badly, but her skin was overheated, and need pulsed through her body with every beat of her heart that it was hard to believe anything could ever be all right again.

“I'm sorry for taking you back to Prey,” Tate murmured as she felt his arms drop a little to her waist so Bubba could see the suicide vest.

If she was going to die, she didn't want to do it holding onto a grudge. “It’s okay,” she mumbled wearily as someone took one of her arms and swabbed the inside of her elbow before starting up an IV. “Your job is important to you. I get that.”

“That’s why you thought I let you get arrested? To keep my job?” Tate sounded aghast, and when he pulled her back enough that he could look down at her there was shock on his face.

Scarlett shrugged. “Well … yeah. What other reason would there be?” As much as she hated it, she did get it. It just sucked to be her.

“Sweetheart, that’s not why I did it. I thought it was the only place you would be safe from Raul and the mole. It killed me to do it, but I wasn’t going to let you get hurt. I made sure Eagle organized for you not to be booked or processed, and to be kept away from everyone else. I think I drove all the guys crazy calling to check on you at least every hour.”

“But … when I asked, the guard said nobody had come to see me or called to see if I was okay.”

“I don’t know why he told you that, Scarlett, but it’s not true. Maybe he just didn't know, or maybe he was lying on purpose, I have no idea, but I called. A lot,” Tate said, his gaze complete sincerity.

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