Page 11 of Edge
His grin was lazy. “Good. You’ll eat before we do anything else.”
“Anything else?” I echoed, my voice sounding as breathless as I felt.
His green gaze darkened, sliding down the sheet I clutched. “I’m nowhere near done with you, baby.”
My pulse sped up as he tugged me closer, his head dipping so he could claim my mouth in a deep kiss that took the rest of my breath away. When he finally tore his lips from mine to roll out of bed and snag his jeans from the floor, all I could do was blink up at him and enjoy the show.
After tugging them on, he circled the bed and pressed his palms into the mattress on either side of me. “When do you work next?”
I blinked up at him, unsure of why he wanted to know. “Not until Monday morning. Why?”
His grin turned wicked. “Good. Pack a bag.”
I pushed up on one elbow, startled. “For what?”
He gave me a look that made my cheeks heat. “Because you’re coming home with me, baby.”
I glanced around my tiny apartment. “But?—”
“No.” He kissed me hard, swallowing the rest of my protest before it even had a chance to form. When he finally pulled back, his eyes gleamed with something fierce. “I have a fridge that’s actually stocked. A king-sized bed instead of this little thing. And I’m gonna spend most of the next two days buried inside you. We’ll be more comfortable there.”
My mouth opened, then closed again. His explanation should’ve been ridiculous, but he made it sound so logical. He was right about the fridge, and my full-size bed was a snug fit for the two of us.
“If we’re going to stay in bed, then…um…I won’t really need a bag. Just a few things, right?”
“Pack more than that.” He stalked over to the closet and tossed my overnight bag at me with a smirk. “For when I convince you to stay longer.”
I shook my head, laughing under my breath as I got up and started gathering clothes. It was ridiculous. We hadn’t known each other for even twenty-four hours. Yet I didn’t feel panicked like I should have. Instead, I was excited to see Tatum’s home and spend more time with him.
By the time I’d stuffed the bag with a couple of pairs of shorts, a few shirts, a pair of jeans—at his insistence, though I had no idea why when it was always hot in July—a couple of sundresses, and several bra and panty sets in an array of colors, Tatum was leaning in the doorway, watching me with a satisfied gleam in his eyes that made my knees weak.
“That all you think you’ll need?” His voice was low and teasing.
“Yes.” I glanced at the overnighter, then back at him. “It’s a lot more than I’ll use in two days.”
“You’re adorable when you underestimate me.” Then he snagged a tote from the hook by the door and filled it himself—shampoo, face wash, my charger, a pair of gym shoes, even the paperback I’d left on the couch. By the time he was done, it looked like I was heading out for a week instead of a quick visit.
I didn’t argue. Just slipped out of his shirt that I’d borrowed in the middle of the night so he could put it back on while I got dressed in my cutest pair of shorts and a crop top. While I slid on a pair of sandals, he slung both bags over his shoulder like they weighed nothing and walked me down to the parking lot.
My beat-up little car sat wedged between a gleaming SUV and a rusty pickup, looking embarrassingly out of place. Tatum scowled at it, his jaw flexing.
“This thing’s lucky I don’t live too far away,” he muttered. “Otherwise, I’d make you leave it here, call a prospect to grab your bags, and have you ride with me.”
Heat curled through me at the possessiveness in his tone even though I rolled my eyes. “It gets me where I need to go.”
“Not for long,” he grumbled as he opened the driver’s side door, his hand firm at my lower back.
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but the fierce look on his face stopped me from asking. So I bit my tongue and slid behind the wheel—already too far gone for Tatum to turn back.
Tatum’s apartment was a short drive away, but it was nothing like mine. My place was small, cozy, cluttered with the kinds of things that made sense for a girl just starting out on her own. His space was wide open, masculine to the bone, with sleek furniture in dark colors and a wall of windows that looked out toward the Gulf.
My bags hit the floor with a soft thump, but before I could take a single step farther, Tatum crowded me back against the door behind me. His body pressed to mine, his green eyes dark and intent.
“Welcome home, baby.”
My brows drew together. “This isn’t?—”
He kissed me before I could finish, his mouth hungry and sure. My protest died in my throat, replaced with a shaky little moan.
