“Why did he thank you then? What did he thank you for?”
She shrugged. “He’s got some personal problems. I was helping him sort them out.”
“Yeah, I could see that.” Tate let his voice drip with sarcasm.
She drew herself up taller, looking haughty and so darn beautiful. “Don’t you dare suggest anything else, Tate Chandler. He’s a boy who needed to talk and that’s all.”
Was she blind? “He’s only ten years younger than you. He’s a young man with a young man’s hormones, and having you close by would be torture for him.” Dammit, she was torturing him.
“And that’s got to appeal to me, does it? A pimply teenager with raging hormones is just what I’ve been waiting for. Gosh, all my Christmases have come at once. I don’t know how I’ve contained my excitement all this time.”
He grimaced. Okay, so she had a point. Perhaps he could admit his reaction had been over the top. But seeing the young man touch her hair—he’d felt as if he was losing her again, as crazy as that sounded. Last time, he’d decided it had been for good, but this time he knew it would be forever. Not even for Nathan’s sake would he go through that again. Hell, if she had any affairs in the future—and God help her if she did—then it would be for Nathan’s sake they would split up.
He didn’t want it to get that far. “Just stay away from Rolly.”
She crossed her arms over her firm breasts. “You know what? I don’t have to do a thing you tell me to do.”
For some reason the image of her breasts took precedence. And suddenly Rolly wasn’t the problem. “You never did do anything I told you to do. But you’re my wife now, so perhaps you’d best learn.”
“Then perhaps you should act like I’m your wife.”
The comment threw him. “What does that mean?”
“You figure it out.”
Was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting? “If you’re feeling lonely, find another outlet. Don’t go turning to someone else.”
“Well, it’s no use turning to you, is it, Tate?”
Something burst inside him.
He slipped his hand under her hair and drew her hard against his body. She gasped as he held her head still, his lips seeking and finding hers, taking advantage of her open mouth and sliding his tongue straight in and over the top of hers, instinctively wanting to dominate her. Hell, he wanted to erase the kiss of another man—any man—right out of her mouth.#p#分页标题#e#
Then she came alive and seized control. Suddenly she was the one calling the shots, and he was the one being taken over. She made him remember what their kisses had been like—real kisses, no-holds-barred kisses—as she arched against him and sent the blood storming through his veins, his muscles locking into place, his body tightening with need against her softness.
A buzzing sound interrupted his consciousness.
For a moment he didn’t realize what it was, but soon the sound of a small, low-flying plane could be heard coming closer. Breaking off the kiss, he shielded Gemma and moved her a few feet to the side of the gazebo and out of sight. He wouldn’t let anyone see them. This was private property.
The plane didn’t appear to be scouring the area. It was heading in a direct line north, so it was unlikely to be reporters. He waited until it was past the house before looking at her.
For a long moment, he was riveted by her and what had just passed between them. Had he really ever been convinced he wouldn’t let himself be tempted by her charms? Heaven help him, but his body still thrummed with need as he noted the color high in her cheeks and her softly swollen lips. Her eyes were uncertain now, calling to something inside him. Thankfully sanity prevailed. Giving in would be a mistake. Just like she had made a mistake when she’d kissed his best friend, he reminded himself.
“I won’t be a substitute, dammit,” he said, dragging up the thought of her and Drake together to get him through this moment. He had to. He had to protect himself from his own desires.
She drew in a sharp breath. “Tate—”
“You’d better go back to the house.”
“But—”
“Just go.”
She looked like she might say something further, but she merely glared at him before hurrying along the path.
Tate ran his fingers through his hair, damn grateful she had gone. The memory of her and Drake kissing might be in his mind, but it was a different memory beating through his body right now. He had to take her to his bed or learn to live with the wanting.
Neither option was acceptable.