Page 41 of Safe With Me
“See what I mean?” He tipped his chin in my direction. “You’re mad and hurt, and taking it out on me. People say things they don’t mean under emotional stress. You give me a hard time on the regular, but you’re not mean like that. It’s not you.”
“I hate this.” I deflated, letting my arms fall to my sides. He was right – the situation threatened to turn me into someone I didn’t want to be, bitter and angry and hitting out.
“I know, baby.” He reached for my wrist and tugged me toward him. “Come here.”
I went, tucking my nose into the space next to his collarbone. “I’m tired.”
“Yep.” He stroked a hand down my hair. “You have a right to be.”
“And life sucks.” My arms hung at my sides, my hands itching to rest at his back.
“Mmhmm.” He flexed his arms, tucking me closer. “You’ve had a rough week or so.”
“Longer than that.” I inhaled, the breath all him, clean and sharp, then released a deep sigh. “She’s been like this for weeks, and it just gets worse.”
“It’ll get better.” He muttered the words into my hair, and I pulled back enough to look into his face, brows lifted. Was he crazy? He tucked my hair behind my ear. “I promise.”
“I’m over this tonight.” I disentangled myself from him, immediately aware of the loss of his warmth and strength. “Go home so I can go to bed.”
“Right.” He made a dismissive noise. He did not move toward the door. “Told you I was hanging out after I saw all those comments.”
“Tate, I’m less than two miles from the sheriff’s department.”
“That’s great. I’m right here.” He shrugged. “And I’m staying.”
Arguing with him required energy I simply didn’t possess. He’d slept on my couch the night before, so what was one more night? “Fine. It’s your back that will be hurting in the morning after sleeping on the couch.”
“That’s right.” He caught my wrist in a gentle hold as I turned away. “Hannah.”
“What now, Tate?” I looked up, his gaze intent on my face.
He cupped my jaw in his other hand, fingertips rubbing a gentle circle on my skin. “Let me kiss you goodnight.”
My breath hitched, and I froze under his easy touch. I wanted that, wanted his mouth on mine, had ruthlessly avoided thinking about kissing him for years like a recovering addict avoided their temptation.
A groove carved between his brows, he winced. “Know what? Forget I said anything. You’ve had a rough night, and I shouldn’t have–”
I leaned up, pressing my lips to his, and felt his indrawn breath a moment before he folded a hand over the back of my head. His mouth moved on mine, pulling my lower lip between his, a slow pressure and release before he brushed a softer caress over my lips. Sensation tingled out from the touch, a clench of desire pinching low in my belly. I smelled him, tasted him.
Lips parted, he lifted his head, cupping my face in both hands. Wanting burned in his eyes, and he traced my cheekbones with featherlight touches. I swayed closer. He dropped his head once more, catching my upper lip, kissing the corner of my mouth before pressing his forehead to mine.
“Goodnight, Hannah.” One fingertip danced down my jaw, leaving a tingle of pleasure in its wake. “Sweet dreams, baby.”
Chapter Twelve
Tate
“Elizabeth said she hated her.” I tossed a detergent pod in the washer, followed by my work clothes. Mingled aromas of dirt and sweat and diesel drifted out of the old topload.
“What?” Jase’s voice carried from the kitchen.
“Gracie got on Elizabeth’s ass about this mess, and Elizabeth went off.” I twisted the dial and punched the start cycle button. I ambled back to the kitchen to find Jase assembling a couple of his massive sandwiches. “And said she didn’t want Hannah around because she hated her.”
“That doesn’t . . .” Jase shook his head, smearing mayonnaise on a slice of wheat bread. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“That’s what I told Hannah.” I pulled a couple of ginger ales out of the refrigerator and popped the top off one. “She was pretty cut up about it, though.”
“Well, yeah.” Jase frowned. “Hannah adores her.”
