Chapter 18 #2
She chokes on a sound that’s half a cry, half a plea. Her whole body jerks, desperate for more, but Tate pulls his fingers free slowly.
Her wide eyes snap to him, glassy and furious.
Tate smirks, licking his fingers. “Not yet. You’ll come when we decide.”
All I can do is press my forehead to hers, kissing her softly, trying to soothe the ache he’s left behind.
“Later, baby,” brushing my thumb over her cheek. “We’ll give you everything. I promise.”
She whimpers, caught between need and frustration, and my heart nearly bursts from it. God, I want her.
The movie plays on, some interstellar battle flashing across the screen, but the only thing that matters is her.
By the time we pull into her building’s lot, Haven’s laughter has faded into a soft hum.
She’d been teasing Tate all the way back to the car, replaying how he tripped over the curb right after he tried to act cool in front of a group of teenagers leaving the theater.
Tate’s quiet in the back, probably pretending not to watch her smile in the reflection.
I ease the SUV into a spot, she leans halfway out the rolled-down window before I’ve even finished parking, squinting. “Carter, did you seriously just park in my spot?”
I kill the engine, wincing but not exactly guilty. “Technically? It was o—”
“Technically,” she cuts in, turning toward me with that raised-brow look that could stop my heart, “so was the fire lane.”
I can’t help the grin that pulls at my mouth. “Which I didn’t park in.”
She huffs, crossing her arms. Tate snorts in the back seat. “You thought about it,” she mutters, grabbing her bag.
Before I can respond, Tate is out of the car. He rounds to her side, pulling open the door with a mocking bow. “After you, pretty.”
I rush around to the other side, yanking open the driver door at the same time. She stops in the middle, staring at us both, deadpan. “Did you two rehearse this?”
“Team effort,” I say proudly.
“Shared brain cell,” Tate adds with a snort.
Her groan carries all the way up the stairs, but I see the smile tugging at her lips as she slides out between us, hips brushing mine, fingers trailing up Tate’s arm as she walks toward her apartment.
She unlocks the door and swings it open, glancing over her shoulder. “I’m gonna eat. I’m gonna bathe. And one of you is gonna keep me company while I do it.”
Tate raises a brow. “In the bath?”
I glance at him, and for a second, neither of us says a word. It’s that twin look, part challenge, part don’t you dare.
God I love it when she’s bossy, way too much.
Every time she takes control like that, my brain short-circuits.
I can pretend it’s the teasing that gets me, or the way she always knows exactly what she wants—but it’s her tone.
That quiet authority that makes me want to give her anything she asks for.
I drag my eyes away before Tate catches the look on my face. He probably knows anyway.
Haven disappears toward the kitchen, flipping the light on as she goes. “Don’t start a fight while I’m gone, you two.”
“Not like we could,” Tate says plopping onto the couch.
I chuckle, nudging him. “Yeah, you’d just lose anyway.”
He snorts, scrolling through his phone. “Maybe. Depends on what the stakes are.”
The sound of running water starts a few minutes later, Tate’s still going through his phone like he’s not thinking about what she said. I last maybe thirty seconds before I give up pretending I’m not.
I head down the hall, the air grows warmer with each step, steam curling from under the bathroom door. I knock softly, knuckles against wood.
“Come in,” she calls.
I ease the door open carefully. The scent of her soap hits first and suddenly every thought I had on the way here is gone. The candle she lit smells like vanilla and chaos—her, basically and her hair’s piled into a loose, damp mess on top of her head. Her eyes open lazily when I step in.
I grin and sit down beside the tub on the fluffy bath mat. She lifts a leg from the water and nudges me with her foot, water droplets sliding down her calf. “Thanks for being my safe option.”
“I’m not that safe,” I say, leaning in just enough to brush a kiss to her knee. “But I like this.”
She hums, eyelids drifting closed again. Her hand drifts over the water, then points lazily at a bottle nearby. “Wanna wash my hair?”
I blink. “Wait. Really?”
She smiles without opening her eyes. “Yeah.”
Fuck if that doesn’t short-circuit something inside me, I don’t know what will. I roll up my sleeves, shift onto my knees beside her, and grab the bottle. The scent hits me immediately—something I’ve buried my face in a hundred times already.
“Lean forward, baby.” I wet her hair gently, carefully. She makes a soft sound when my fingers comb through the strands. “Too hot?” I ask, cupping warm water to rinse it through.
“No. Perfect.”
I work the shampoo in slow circles, massaging her scalp, dragging my thumbs across her temples the way she likes. Her sigh is so content it makes my chest ache.
“You’re gonna spoil me,” she mumbles.
“Good.” I rinse her hair again, the water trickling down her back, and when I move her hair aside to kiss the top of her spine, she shivers.
“I don’t need anything else tonight,” she whispers. “Just this.”
God, I’d give her everything if she asked.
I run my fingers through the ends of her hair one last time, then let the water pour over it again. She leans into the touch like this is the only moment she wants to exist in.
I wrap a towel around her shoulders when she finally sits back, hair dripping down as I press a kiss to her temple. “Need anything else?”
“Yeah,” she whispers, reaching for my hand. I let her thread our fingers together, resting them on her bare knee. “Don’t leave.”
“I won’t.”
I help her stand, steadying her as she steps out of the tub. She pads across the tile, and I grab one of her softest shirts from the dresser — the oversized one she always wears to bed and hold it out for her. She smiles a little as I help her slip it over her head, the hem brushing her thighs.
She looks up at me through damp lashes, and I can’t not lean in. The kiss starts gentle, just a brush of her lips against mine, but she lingers, deepening it until I forget how to breathe.
When she finally pulls back, she’s smiling. “Come on,” she murmurs, tugging my hand.
I follow her to the bed, flipping the covers back as she crawls in. I slide in beside her, close enough to feel her warmth seep into me.
She yawns, “You gonna make Tate join us?”
I laugh under my breath, grabbing my phone. “Watch this.” I quickly send him a text.
Me: Your turn for bedtime duty, cuddling required. No exceptions!
Tate : No, and if you breathe near my neck again I swear I’ll stab you…
I grin and read it out loud. Haven giggles from her pillow. “He’s bluffing.”
“He’s absolutely not bluffing.”
A few minutes pass. I think maybe he’s serious this time then the door opens with a dramatic swing and Tate walks in, shirtless and he grumbles something about “softness killing him” as he crawls in on Haven’s other side.
She lifts the blanket for him without saying a word. His arm slides around her waist. I shift in closer, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, and we sandwich her in silence.
Tate mumbles into the pillow. “You touch my foot Carter, I’m kicking you out of this bed.”