Page 19 of Fighting Gravity

“I think you may be right. But I feel terrible,” she moaned. “I’m sure an impromptu plane ride is expensive and bad for the environment and inconvenient for the pilot. I should have thought this through before I told my dad to head back to San Diego without me.”

Tate tipped her chin up gently. “All of your concerns are true, but my plane is your only option. As for Theodore, the pilot, I’ll give him a raise. I’m glad you stayed. Are you glad you stayed?”

“Yes,” she whispered. He didn’t hear her, but he saw her lips form the word.

“Your happiness is all that matters.” He stood. “Let’s go. Tell Quinn I’m giving you a ride to the airstrip so she doesn’t worry.”

She went to hug Quinn goodbye and waved at the engineers she was sitting with. His cousin shot him a curious look. He saluted her in return. He was sure she’d be grilling him about Rosie later. In the two years they’d been living together, she’d never seen him with a woman.

Rosie slipped her hand into his as they neared the door, and Tate reveled in the small act. He’d been born patient. Maybe he’d been born patient for her.

Outside, behind the bar, she tipped her head up toward the black sky. He followed the movement from interest and instinct. A legion of stars sparkled overhead. She sighed happily. He was watching her face when her gaze fell back on him. “It’s beautiful out here. Today was perfect. Thanks for letting me be part of your big day.”

Tate smiled. The neon light from the myriad beer signs in the bar’s back window lit her stunning face in a strange combination of colors. “My pleasure.”

Rosie tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. He wished his teeth were doing the nibbling, anywhere—everywhere—on her body. “Tate?”

“Yes,ma belle?”

“Can I be unsure about us and still want you to kiss me? Or is that selfi—”

Relief and lust exploded in his veins. He didn’t even hesitate. Selfish or not, if Rosie wanted a kiss, he’d fucking kiss her. Tate had her up against the wood shingles in seconds. Fire burned through his body, kindled by her tongue on his. She tasted sweet and tempting. Craving more contact, he wrapped Rosie’s legs around his waist and lifted her up. He pressed his hips into her core and grew harder at her little moan.

“I can feel you,” she whispered, wide-eyed.

“What are you going to do about it,” he challenged.

Gasping, she grinded against him in delicious, dangerous ways. “You are a fucking goddess,” he whispered between grazes of her mouth. “You deserve better than making out up against a shitty bar.”

“Funny,” she breathed. “Men have always treated me like glass. Maybe Iwantto make out up against a shitty bar.”

“Lucky for you, I want to give you everything you want.” He moved his mouth to her neck. “What I want is to take this kiss further,” he confessed. Tate burned from the inside out.

She nodded. “You can start by touching me.”

He just growled since his voice had abandoned him. He dropped her legs to the ground and cupped her cheeks.

“Everywhere,” she said, answering the question he couldn’t ask.

He left her tucked flannel shirt in place but ran his hand down her neck to her chest until he covered her breast. He flicked his thumb over her nipple, while his other hand gripped the back of her neck. Her breathy sigh against his lips nearly undid him. Tate lost himself in Rosie, in her taste and the feel of her nipples protesting and begging under his fingers.

Her hands buried in his hair as she tipped her head back against the building, pulling hair out of her braid. She was going to look properly fucked in a minute. God, Tate never wanted this to end. But she’d asked for a kiss and instead he was practically dry humping her in the fucking parking lot.

He softened his kiss. He changed the pace and the depth of his lips on hers. Slowed his hands. Explored her neck with his mouth, all the while pleasuring her nipples at her silent, arching insistence. Tate was trying to extricate himself before he couldn’t.

At least from this moment.

With Rosie, it was too late. Tate was all fucking in.

11

“What if we rotate the building at an angle and make the corner there the entrance? Bless the flat, dusty desert. We can do whatever we want on that site.”

Gigi rotated the flimsy trace paper with the rough building sketch over the printed aerial of the site. The change did create a natural, dynamic entry point from the long driveway.

“I like that change,” Rosie said.

She was trying to concentrate on Gigi’s ideas for OrbitAll’s hotel, but her body and mind both betrayed her. Three days later, her nipples were still sore from Tate’s rough handling. Not that Rosie was complaining.

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