Chapter 8
AURORA
“Ms. Mitchell, you have a guest in the waiting area.”
I looked up from my task of dredging through e-mails—my least favorite part of this business, I’d rather be coding—to raise an eyebrow at Shan.
“Huh?” I asked, confused. “I don’t have any meetings scheduled today. At least I didn’t think. Shit. Did I?” I posed the question as I was already navigating to my schedule on the computer screen.
“No, this guest is… an unexpected pop-in.”
I frowned as I looked up from my screen. “I don’t have unexpected pop-ins at work. Except my mother or Monty, and you would have just brought my mom back.” I crossed my arms, glaring at her. “It’s Monty, isn’t it?”
“Ew, no.” Shan smirked. “It ain’t no damn Monty.”
And yet… she still didn’t say who it was.
“Okay, why are you playing coy?” I asked, finally standing up. “What is going on?”
“Am I being coy?” Shan squinted at me.
Definitely being coy.
“I just… didn’t know if you wanted this person in your office, so I insisted on them waiting outside until I ran it by you,” Shan explained, practically beaming at this point.
Which made her claim sound like a lie.
Hmm.
Instead of giving her the satisfaction of any further questioning, I scooted past her in the door, eyes narrowed, to simply see for myself.
And as soon as I saw who the “guest” was, it confirmed the lie.
She had not left Tatum Wilder sitting in the waiting area on a little ass couch that made him look even bigger than normal to “make sure I was okay with him visiting.”
My guess is she left him there to make a statement. See, Rori isn’t a wreck over Monty. Why would she be with a fine specimen of man like Tatum Wilder vying for her attention?
Not that it was their business.
But still.
I wasn’t mad at it.
And in her further, but unnecessary defense, Tatum looked good as fuck.
The creamy tan sweater was perfect on the bronzy deep brown of his skin, and his jeans were tailored perfectly to those powerful thighs as he stood to greet me. He was clearly fresh from a barber’s chair, tastefully dripped in jewelry, just… what a man.
I could hear the collective swoon from the nosy Hive behind me.
“Tatum, what are you doing here?” I asked, stopping just out of reach of a hug.
Not that he cared.
He closed the little distance himself, pulling me into a vetiver-and-sandalwood scented hug that made my knees buckle a little.
“We talked about this,” he muttered into my hair. “I pulled up to drop off dick for breakfast… well, lunch. Sorry I’m late.”
My face went hot as I pulled back to make sure no one was close enough to have heard that. The glint of amusement in his eyes said he was joking, but…
“Can you be serious?” I asked, and he shrugged.
“Of course. I’m always serious. I do what I say, and I mean what I say,” he said. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Boy— please,” I laughed. “I thought you were supposed to be getting bitched at by your coaches today? You came here for me to bitch at you instead?”
“Coaches can wait until tomorrow. They can’t bitch at me if I didn’t get on the plane. I came to take you to lunch,” he said, grabbing my hand. “I mean… if you can get away from the emails long enough?”
“Yes,” I replied, so quickly that it made a fresh wave of embarrassed heat rushed to my face.
Why did I feel so… giddy?
I was supposed to be a “free agent” now, as he’d called it that first night on the phone. Choosing myself, being alone. So much had happened, had changed, in such a short period that I was barely processing it.
And yet… here I was, more eager than I should be over the prospect of spending time with Tatum.
When really, I should still be in mourning.
Right?
“Where do you want to go?” Tatum asked, pulling me off that train of thought before it could leave the station.
I sighed. “Well, my favorite place needs a reservation unless we want to wait hours for a table, but?—”
“Nah, you’re probably just too nice to use your celebrity to your advantage,” he teased.
“Uhhh, probably because I’m not a celebrity!”
“Damn, sucks for you,” he laughed. “What restaurant is it?”
I sucked my teeth. “Sucre Noir.”
He nodded. “Done. Let me make a call.”
I shook my head as he stepped away, already knowing he was going to be back in a moment offering a different restaurant suggestion. When I turned around, there was a flurry of movement. Everybody who’d been staring us down looked away, pretending to be immersed in their work.
There was no doubt this was going to end up on social media, if it wasn’t already, but I barely cared anymore at this point.
I couldn’t keep caring.
Especially after yesterday.
I hadn’t, and wouldn’t, mention to Tatum that Monty was actually the one who’d called his livestream to my attention. Despite the fact that the whole internet had seen him trying to provoke a reaction before the game, Tatum’s response in the press room was supposedly out of line.
Monty had texted to tell me so himself.
He should have been off somewhere celebrating his win, celebrating the team advancing further in the championship.
Instead, he was in my text messages bitching about me needing to “get your little boyfriend.”
And then, later, when the livestream was happening and Tatum and his siblings were performing their little dirty macking karaoke show, it was, What the fuck is this? Trying to embarrass me on live? Are you with him right now? Are you in that hotel room? I’m on his ass the very next time I see him. Hope he enjoyed himself.
Meanwhile, I’d been taking a long shower and doing my skincare after an emergency drop-in at the office.
Not that it was his business anymore anyway.
I’d rolled my eyes and put him back on ice, quieting his text messages.
Couldn’t allow Monty and his antics to keep me in an emotional spin cycle, where everything I did, everything I felt, was wrapped up in my connection to him.
At some point, I had to just… be.
I had, however, gone to look at Tatum’s livestream myself, and I… wasn’t amused.
Wait.
That wasn’t exactly accurate.
I was amused, at Monty’s expense, until I remembered that the mishandled woman in question was me, and I was getting tagged in notifications about this new piece of drama added to the pile in real-time.
Very fucked up.
“All set. The building valet is bringing my truck back up front for us,” Tatum stated as he approached me from behind. I turned to find him wearing a triumphant smirk.
My mouth dropped. “You’re joking,” I insisted. “There’s no way…”
“The owner is a Kings fan.” He shrugged. “Easy favor.”
I playfully rolled my eyes. “Of course.”
Shan cleared her throat from the doorway. Before, she’d left me to have privacy with Tatum, but now she was back, with her own proud grin. “Ms. Mitchell, sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to let you know I took care of any correspondence that didn’t need your specific input, and for those that did, I’ve ranked them in priority and added them to your schedule for tomorrow.”
I frowned. “Why tomorrow?”
She narrowed her eyes at me, quickly flickering them to where Tatum stood and then back to me. “Just to make sure you’re able to fully enjoy lunch without worrying about rushing back.”
“I can’t keep working half days, Shan.”
“Of course you can. You’re the boss. See you tomorrow,” she added, with a little wave, at me and Tatum, that gave an air of finality like she was the actual boss.
“Just go with it, Aurora,” Tatum chuckled, reaching to grab my hand again. It was surprising how rapidly the dynamic of my day had changed, from buried in emails to face-to-face with a man determined to have my attention.
Which… was a shift in itself.
Even in the midst of his infidelity, Monty never made me feel unattractive, unwanted, none of that, which was kinda part of the mindfuck of it all. He didn’t not want me, he just also wanted… other women too. So it wasn’t as if being desired was something I’d been deprived of.
Being pursued, though?
This was a whole other feeling, one I was probably enjoying a bit too much, considering that barely two weeks had passed since the night of my birthday.
Not even that long, actually.
Damn.
Tatum gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”
I hesitated briefly, trying to absorb it all. Things around me were changing a little too fast for me to even stop and process it, to figure out if it was even healthy.
But then I took a deep breath, and nodded. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
“Oh, this shit is kind of swanky,” Tatum said once we were seated, tucked away in a quiet corner of the restaurant I’d only ever been seated in when I was with Sierra. I was trying not to be salty over the unexpected VIP treatment it took to get through the door last minute in the first place, and now special seating?
I was honestly the tiniest bit offended.
To be fair though, like I’d told him earlier, I wasn’t truly a celebrity. “Public figure” at best. And even then, I wasn’t nearly as recognizable as Tatum or Sierra, so there was, reasonably, more of a need for privacy than there was when I was with other friends or by myself.
It made sense.
But making sense didn’t make it not grate a little.
I was in my favorite restaurant though, so I’d get over it.
“Yeah, I love it here,” I told him, smiling at our server as they approached, tattoos peeking from under the collar and sleeves of the beautifully tailored black button-up that was part of their uniform, honestly a perfect visual for the upscale, eclectic vibe of the restaurant. “Have you not been here before?” I asked after the server had gotten our drink orders and promised to come back with a basket of the caramelized onion toast points I loved so damn much.
“Nah, I don’t find myself in Blackwood that often,” he answered. “Usually for some specific event. When I’m not in Connecticut, I usually go home?—”
“To Kentucky,” I added, remembering our conversation from the night before. “Kentucky is still surprising to me. I know you said people call you Country Boy Tate, but… the vibe isn’t super strong like that to me.”
He shrugged. “Only because we haven’t known each other very long yet. Give it a little time.”
“Ooh, are you saying you’re putting on a front?” I asked, and he chuckled.
“I’m saying you have to be around me a little longer for my mannerisms to tell the complete story,” he explained with a little smirk that set off a fresh round of butterflies in my chest.
I was so damn hooked.
Our stream of conversation was momentarily interrupted by the server coming back to drop off drinks and bread. Neither of us had really looked at the menu yet.
Tatum spoke up. “Hey, this is your spot, right? Why don’t you just order for both of us? We can get your favorite things and share.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re suggesting that we share? So you’re not gonna get mad about me wanting things off your plate?”
“Why would I get mad about that?”
“Green flag.”
The server was standing closer to me, so he didn’t hear that get muttered, but I did. I exchanged a quick look with them because… yes, actually, that was a little green flag, to add to all the rest he was waving.
It was borderline overwhelming, honestly.
Like he couldn’t possibly be this… great.
I didn’t want to relax because there had to be some gotcha to it, but I couldn’t help relaxing, because he made it impossible not to. Tatum was a damn fool— that was the only way to put it—but that was truly a compliment of the highest order. He had me giggling like an idiot through the whole three hours we occupied that table, and we only left because the restaurant had to close and reset to prepare for dinner service.
By the time we made it to his rental, sat there and talked, drove through rush hour traffic, talked in the parking lot of my building, and then all the way up to my door where he was supposed to be dropping me off… Hell, we were hungry again.
So I invited him in, and we ordered food, and talked for a few more hours.
“This is insane,” I said aloud, when the realization hit me.
We’d moved out to the balcony, wine glasses in hand to talk since it was such a beautiful day outside, with the sun starting to set. My building was toward the outskirts of the city, bordering Blackwood Hills—where Monty lived in the house he’d bought me but now probably had Yams in, redecorating all my shit—with all its beautiful natural landscaping.
Because my office was downtown, I hadn’t wanted to be that far outside the city, which was why I had this apartment at all. Monty always thought it was small, but I thought it was quaint and perfect, especially once I had it fully decorated and furnished. He never wanted to live here with me, claimed he felt confined by the space and too close to the neighbors, so it never even felt like ours.
Just mine.
If only I’d known then how that would work out.
Maybe it was intuition though.
It was just the right size for me, he bought it outright and my name was the only one on the deed, and I had a gorgeous view of the lake and forest.
“What’s insane?” Tatum asked, dropping to a seat on the bench.
“Do you realize we’ve been together for damn near eight hours?” I asked. “That’s a long time for a…what even is this?”
“Not a first date,” he said. “You already gave me the draws on the first date.”
“Wow.”
“Am I lying?” he laughed.
“Not really, I guess, but you could say it a little better than that,” I giggled. “I’m not a fan of the framing.”
“Oh, my bad. Okay… uh…shit, I don’t know how else to say it.” He met my gaze, holding it with an intensity that made it hard to look away. “Are you ashamed or something?”
“No, I’m not… ashamed,” I denied. “It’s just… I don’t know. That whole night was just… I don’t want to say it’s not a good memory because I feel like that implies that I didn’t enjoy the time we spent together, which isn’t true. But the impetus…”
Tatum nodded. “Yeah, I feel you. The shit that led up to it wasn’t really the best.”
“Yeah.” I finally broke our gaze to move over to the balcony railing, gripping it with both hands as I stared out at the lake. The sun was fading, fast, but the colors reflecting on the water were beautiful for now.
However fleeting.
“What are you thinking about?” Tatum asked from behind me.
Without looking back, I answered, “Time. Wasted time, to be specific.”
He sucked his teeth. “Don’t start.”
Frowning, I looked over my shoulder at him. “Don’t start what?”
“Giving negativity room in your thoughts.”
“Oh, because it’s that simple?”
I rolled my eyes as I returned my gaze to the water, practically indistinguishable from the trees in the night sky.
It was easy for him to say some shit like that. He wasn’t the one fresh off a relationship he’d been in for all of his adult life. He wasn’t the one who’d been humiliated in public, strung along because his partner couldn’t just accept his truth. He wasn’t the one struggling with how to feel about it, worried he was handling it wrong.
He wasn’t the one enjoying the company of someone new a little too much.
“Come here.”
I closed my eyes, pretending I hadn’t heard. A moment passed, then something soft hit me on the ass.
Hard.
“What the fuck,” I muttered, turning to see one of my outdoor pillows on the ground at my feet, and Tatum wearing an innocent expression. “You’re annoying,” I declared, snatching the pillow up to put it back where it had been. Then I thought better of it and aimed it at his face.
Rookie mistake.
My actions brought me close enough for him to grab, easily pulling me into his lap.
I didn’t even bother fighting it, knowing from the workout videos of him my mother made me watch that there was no way I was going anywhere unless he wanted me to.
But really… I didn’t want to.
Tatum’s lap was actually quite a comfortable place to be.
I melted right into him, immediately, alarmingly, at home.
Now that the sun was down, it was chilly outside, and his hands were pleasingly warm; one resting on the lower part of my inner thigh, the other pressed against my belly from being tucked in his arms. And there was just heat coming from him too.
And heat from my overpoured wine that I gulped the last of to wet my suddenly dry throat.
“What can I do to bring you back to a good headspace,” he asked in a low, soothing tone right in my ear. He’d leaned in a bit to take my empty glass and put it on the side table next to his, and instead of sitting back, he stayed there, stayed close.
“What makes you think I’m in a bad headspace?”
“Uh… your whole mood shifting when you started talking about wasted time?” he said, planting a kiss on my shoulder through my sweater. “You thinking about that shit with Monty?”
I shrugged. “Why does it have to be that?”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re right. We’re still getting to know each other, so maybe you do have some other mood-shifting area where you feel you’re wasting, or have wasted, your time.”
“Or maybe I would just rather be having sex than some deep conversation about my feelings?” I asked, not even knowing why that came out of my mouth. It had been a long time since the luxury of sex as a distraction from my problems was even at my disposal, since Monty wasn’t allowed to touch me.
Why now was it an option?
“No problem,” Tatum declared, and a moment later, his hand wasn’t on my inner thigh anymore. It was fully under my sweater dress, between my legs.
“Tatum,” I shrieked, scandalized as he used his other hand to grab my knee, pulling my legs wide open for better access.
“What?” he asked, very nonchalant as he rubbed my clit through my panties. “Is this not what you wanted?”
“I- ahhh,” I moaned as his fingers slid under the panties now, and inside me. He had both hands working, already had me making a mess.
“You keep joking about sex a distraction. Have you realized that?” he asked, while doing things with his fingers that made it impossible to pull together a coherent thought, let alone vocalize an answer. “I think it’s because you aren’t getting enough of it.”
He put his mouth to my ear, hands still busy.
“Relax,” he demanded, then nipped my skin between his teeth to underline his point. His mouth went to my neck, sucking and biting, licking, kissing, driving all the thoughts out of my head.
I did relax.
I let myself melt even further into him, into the feeling, into the appreciation that the balconies had been built with privacy in mind, so I could just… be free.
Free to let go of the tension, free to let my mouth fall open and make whatever sounds my body pushed out, free to grind my hips in rhythm with his fingers, free to be further turned on by his hard dick bulging underneath me.
Whew.
The orgasm may have been a little too intoxicating. The only explanation I could think of for why, as soon as I was in control of my limbs again, I found myself straddling Tatum’s lap.
To ride his condom-less dick and tongue kiss.
Or maybe it was the wine.
Or shit… maybe it was just me, doing the reckless sort of thing I’d missed out on while I was playing forever with someone who didn’t deserve that level of devotion from me?
I was questioning everything now. I’d always believed I knew exactly when he stopped being faithful, thought the shit he’d been on in the back half of our relationship was a change.
But was it?
Or was I just dumb, and he’d never actually been faithful to me?
That was the shit that kept me up at night.
But it had no place in my thoughts right now.
Monty had no place in my thoughts right now.
Right now, Tatum and his magnificent dick were the only things that mattered to me.
And his hands.
And his mouth.
God, his mouth.
I passed out that night with Tatum’s head between my legs, giving the sleepiest, surprisingly nice, head.
And then I woke up beside him the next morning.
Vaguely, I understood that my phone had been buzzing and I’d been ignoring it. It wasn’t anymore, but I turned to reach for it now… only to be met with the strangest déjà vu.
It took a moment, just a moment, to process what was in front of me.
And then…
“Monty?!” I whisper-yelled, sitting straight up to look my ex-fiancé right in his face. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?!”
Tatum chose that exact moment to start snoring, and Monty and I both watched as he turned over, eyes still closed, and wrapped an arm around my naked body to pull me closer before drifting back into a deeper slumber.
I… kinda wanted to laugh.
But Monty was clearly not amused when he met my gaze. “Rori… we need to fucking talk.”