Page 44 of Fighting for Scarlett

Tate didn't let up, he continued to suck, flicking her bud with the tip of his tongue, then swirling it across the trembling little bundle of nerves, bringing her another powerful explosion.

Still, he wouldn’t stop.

Her hands tangled in his hair, and Scarlett wasn’t sure if she was trying to push him away or beg for another orgasm.

Words tumbled from her lips, but she couldn’t even understand them.

He’d given her exactly what she wanted.

Right now, there was no room for thoughts, all she could do was feel.

A third orgasm slammed into her, and her entire body was shaking from the force of it as Tate lifted her like she weighed nothing at all and slammed into her in one thrust.

Because he was the kind of man who cared enough about a woman to make sure sex was good for her, even as he thrust into her at a near frenetic pace his fingers worked her towards a fourth orgasm, which fired through her at the same time she felt him find his own release.

As delightful aftershocks continued to pulse through her, Scarlett sunk against him, content to stay right where she was, in this perfect pleasure-filled little bubble, for the rest of her life.

“Sorry, babe, I've got to get rid of the condom and clean you up,” Tate’s voice murmured by her ear as one of his hands swept the length of her spine.

Honestly, she didn't remember him putting the condom on, had no idea where it had even come from, she’d been too stuck in post-orgasm haze, but she loved that he had been careful, and that he wanted to take care of her now. Not only did it warm her heart, but it gave her a sense of peace because now she knew that Tate was on her side.

He no longer thought she was guilty.

January 16th

1:19 A.M.

Sex with Scarlett had been stupid.

Letting her fall asleep on his lap stupider still.

Tate couldn’t deny that the sex they had shared earlier had been out of this world good. Watching Scarlett come apart so totally that complete gibberish had been coming out of her mouth as she begged and pleaded simultaneously for him to stop and to give her more, was intoxicating.

Far too easily he could allow himself to get addicted to her.

To her sweet scent, her breathy moans, her soft touch, her lyrical voice, and her big doe eyes.

But he couldn’t let himself forget the facts.

Scarlett was messed up in something dangerous. Just because if she was guilty at all it was because she had likely agreed to sell Raul the Reactivator out of desperation because she had been coerced, it didn't mean she still hadn't done it. Instead of trusting all of Prey’s resources to keep her and her team safe, she’d picked the wrong road, and now she was so far down it there was a chance she could never find her way back.

There was zero future for them.

Zero.

None.

Nada.

Wasn’t going to happen.

This woman who snuggled so trustingly against him, deep in sleep, completely vulnerable, wasn’t his to keep.

Even if fate hadn't brought them back together there had never been a chance for them. Nothing had changed, he still wasn’t looking for marriage and forevers. He didn't want to fall in love, and he wasn’t going to keep using Scarlett for sex knowing he wasn’t going to ever be able to give her what she wanted.

Wishing things were different wasn’t going to change anything. They wanted completely different things out of life, were on completely different paths, had had completely different childhoods and models of what love looked like.

So why, when he held her sleeping form tucked against his chest, did everything feel so right?

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