Page 57 of Worthy

But it’s not supposed to. It can’t. Especially now.

God… did I ruin everything when I left??

“Tate…” I murmur, shivering so hard I might collapse while the heat of his body sinks into me. “We can’t. That’s what’s different… This time wecan’t.”

“Then why were you in that bathroom?” His warm breath on my ear sends chills rushing all over my body.

The feel of his muscles brushing mine through our clothes, the way his fingers are slowly sweeping up and down my arm… The way the fingers on his other hand seem to have appeared on my lower back…

It’s just like last time. It feelsexactlythe same, only now it’s about more than just us being friends, and me being drunk and horny and confused…

This time it’s wrong because I’m married, to a woman. It’s against therules…

My dick hasn’t been this hard in sixteen years.

I gulp. “That was a mistake…” I lie.

Of course, he’s not buying it. “Try again.” His tongue swipes my earlobe and my lashes flutter.

“I was just using the—”

“No…” he cuts me off in a softly salacious voice that’s now living in my brain. “Why did youreallycome here today…Sunshine?”

Fuck, I missed him calling me that. Why have I missed it so much??

“I…” My voice cuts out, my hand inching up, twitchy and nervous, to rest on his waist. “I wanted to see… how it… felt.”

“Mm,” he rumbles, pushing his hips into mine. I feel the outline of his erection on my own and I groan quietly, my forehead dropping to his. “Was it the first time? Since we…”

I nod fast. “Mhm. Yes.”

“Fuck…” He growls quietly, shaking his head like he’s angry at himself. “Why is this always what I want? You fucked me up, Hardy… Like,bad.”

Remorse clenches between my ribs. “I’m sorry, Trouble… I promise, I am.”

Tate pulls back just enough for our eyes to lock. We’re so close, the tips of our noses are almost touching. “This confusion of yours can only go on so long.”

My lips part, but I have no idea what to say. I’m lost…

Before coming here today, I’d spent years convincing myself it wasn’t that bad. When I’m at home, living my comfortable, quiet little life, everything seems fine.

But just being near Tate Eckhart again throws a wrench in between the gears of my denial.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to think,” I fumble for words, shaking head to toe. “I’m married, T. I’m married and I—”

“Please,” he breathes, chin wobbling. “I can’t listen to you talk about your wife. I just can’t.”

Inside my chest hurts, like someone’s stabbing me. I remember the fight, pacing in front of the door to his dorm room that night. I remember giving it up, and knocking…

I remember thefeelingof it all, like it happened five minutes ago.

The nervous, trembling ecstasy of him opening the door, and me walking inside. And every single second of what happened after that, like the scariest, most incredible bliss I could never have imagined.

I didn’t run away because I was scared of wanting him. I ran because I was scared of how good it felt thathewantedme.

A sudden noise interrupts our moment, and both of our faces slope in its direction. It sounds like hushed voices. Then a groan.

Tate’s brows furrow and he takes me by the wrist again, this time pulling me along with him. We turn a corner, and there’s a sunroom; and open space, like a living room of sorts, without a door. We both peer inside at the same time, and I actually gasp out loud, then slap my hand over my mouth.

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