Reparation(92)
“I know,” he replied, his voice straining.
“It was all a lie,” she whispered, her whole body starting to shake. “Every word I said. I loved you. I didn't love him. I've never loved anyone else, ever.”
“I know.”
If you always know everything before me, why don't you clue me in and save us some time?
She came hard, shuddering and shaking on top of him. He stopped moving, just held her close against him. His touch was gentle. If he had been rough, it would have been too much, too soon. He always knew exactly what she needed. She pressed her face into his shoulder. Sucked in air. Cried a little.
“Are you alright?” he breathed. She nodded.
“Yes. For the first time, in a long time, I think I am,” she managed with a laugh.
“See? A good fuck always makes you feel better. Remember that, next time you get upset,” he told her, and she laughed harder.
“Maybe you should just remind me.”
“Is it my turn now?” he asked. She lifted her head and looked down at him.
“What do you mean?” she asked. He lifted his hands to her face and ran his thumbs underneath her eyes, wiping away tears and mascara.
“I mean, that one was for you, baby girl. To reassure you, I'm not going anywhere, no matter what you do. You're feeling upset. You feel bad. That one was to make you feel better,” he told her. She smiled.
“Very generous, sir.”
“I know. Now, I think it's my turn.”
“And what exactly are you feeling?”
“Angry.”
“Ooohhh, and what would you like to do about that?”
“Anything I want.”
“Sounds fun.”
“You up for that?”
“Always.”
The hand in her hair clenched and yanked, forcing her head back. She gasped, and then moaned when she felt his teeth on her nipple. The arm around her waist held her tight against him and he stood up. She wrapped herself around him, digging her fingernails into his shirt. He let his pants fall to the floor and stepped out of them as he walked across the room, carrying her into the bedroom.
“I'm gonna treat you so bad,” he warned her.
“Exciting.”
“I'm gonna fuck you so hard,” he added.
“Even better.”
“You are never going to want to fuck anybody else, ever again,” he continued, dropping her on the bed and then yanking his t-shirt off.
“Too late for that.” She scrambled onto her knees.
“You are never going to want to leave me, ever again,” he finished, his hand gripping her high on her throat, fingers and thumb pressing underneath her jaw. She managed to nod.
“Never again.”
“Now, you are going to shut the fuck up, and you are going to show me just how much you love me,” he informed her. She smiled.
“That could take a long time,” she warned him.
“Good thing we've got all the time in the world.”
Oh, Satan, still so clever.
~16~
“Do I have to propose now?”
“No, Jameson.”
“Good. The words make me physically ill.”
Tate rolled onto her back, turned her heads towards Jameson.
“Do you want to propose to me?”
“Do you want the truth?”
“Always.”
“No. Jesus, Tate, I barely know you. I don't even know your full name. What's your middle name?”
“Elliot.”
Jameson turned his head towards Tate.
“Serious?”
“Yes. Not all of us are as blessed as you, Santiago.”
“Shut up.”
“Alright.”
“I missed you, baby girl. So goddamn much.”
“Good. I missed you, too.”
“You always miss me. Why do you keep trying to get away?”
“Because you scare me.”
“You scare me, too, but you don't see me running.”
“I know. You're braver than me.”
“Sometimes I wonder.”
Tate reached over and pressed her hand against his arm.
“Jameson.”
“Hmmm?”
“You asked me to be willing to try. You said you were willing to try. That's what this is. I just want to be with you, and once in a while, know that you want to be with me, too.”
“I always want to be with you, Tatum.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I know how you hate titles.”
“Because we transcend titles.”
“That was really beautiful, Jameson.”
“Thank you.”
“We transcend ...,”
Jameson grabbed Tate's hand, brought it to his chest and placed it over his heart.
“We just work. Let it be, Tate. Seven years, a bottle of xanax, Pet, Nick, several countries, and a lot of miles – yet we're still here. Time to stop running, baby girl.”