Page 55 of Revelry
“Still a piece of shit. You can do anything you put your mind to, Gertrude, you have to know that.”
“Thanks Tate,” she said softly, and we drove the rest of the way in silence. But my brain was screaming. So many angry thoughts for how he’d made her feel, made her doubt herself when she could do anything. I knew she could.
I pulled up outside our houses and hurried around to open her door, scooping her into my arms again and this time she went willingly.
“Where do you want to go?” I asked when I got her in the door.
“To bed,” she said, and my dick perked up in my jeans. “I’m tired,” she added quickly.
I carried her up the stairs and placed her on the edge of the double bed while I pulled back the cream duvet. She pulled off her boots and adorable cat socks before unsnapping her jeansand I turned my back, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.
“I’ll just uh—” I cut myself off, stalking from the room and headed downstairs looking for something cool to put on her ankle. I found an ice pack in her freezer and went back upstairs. She was tucked up in bed, eyes closed. I pulled back the bottom of the cover and placed the pack over her swollen ankle.
“Sorry,” I murmured as she hissed. “You need to alternate ice and heat.”
She nodded sleepily and then laid her head back down. “Thanks, Tate.”
“Goodnight, Gertrude,” I replied and stared at her a beat longer than I should have before I left and locked up for her.
I lay in my own bed, listening through the wall, like a creeper, for any sounds that she needed me in the night.
She didn’t and for some reason, it really bothered me.
Chapter Fifteen
Gertie
“Open up, Tate! I’m freezing my tush off out here!” I pounded on the door again.
Eventually a light came on in the hallway, the front door opened and there stood a confused, sleep-rumpled and very delicious, bare-chested Tate.
“What the hell, Gertrude?” He glanced behind me out into the darkness.
“My shower’s crapped out; I need yours.” I hid my grin as I barged past him, hobbling on my still sore ankle. He sputtered behind me and I heard the door close.
“But you shouldn’t—”
I turned to face him, eyebrow raised in challenge. “I shouldn’t what?”
He pursed his lips, the pink line of them thinning more than I thought possible. I loved riling him up. Especially before the sun rose. I mentally ticked it off myTate Bucket List.
He ran a hand roughly through his dark tresses, one defiant lock escaping and curling over his forehead. His glasses were pushed further up his nose and my legs wobbled.
“You have a bad ankle, you can’t be running around in a—” he flailed again, gesturing at my towel. “A skimpy towel.”
“This isn’t skimpy,” I declared, glancing down at myveryskimpy towel. The skimpiest I could find. “If you’re so worried, why don’t you follow me?”
I spun on my uninjured ankle and headed up the stairs. He stomped after me and I knew the second I heard the low rumble from him that my skimpy towel had done its job.
“Jesus, Gertrude, I can almost see your ass.”
“You should be old friends by now,” I threw over my shoulder. I made my way into his bathroom, tugging on the light and glancing around at the immaculate white space. I had a thing about men’s bathrooms, they needed to be clean and tidy, and don’t even get me started on the toilet. It would put me off a man if his bathroom wasn’t clean. But I shouldn’t have worried about Tate’s, not that I wasonhim to even be putoffhim. His OCD meant this was pristine. Everything about Tate was pristine and it just made me want to dirty him up a little.
I pulled back the shower curtain and bent over, earning another curse for my efforts as I turned on the shower.
“Help me?” I held out one hand as I braced the other on the knot of my towel. Immediately he was there, just like I knew he would be. He may be grumpy, but he was also a gentleman and a carer at heart. One firm hand gripped my palm, the other sliding under my bicep to steady me as I stepped over the lip of the bath.
“Thanks Tate. Now be a good boy and turn around unless you want an eyeful.”
