Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Alyssia powered down her work computer, and gathered her purse. Going home before the sun set, instead of as it rose, she liked that. Besides, Tate was picking her up, and she liked that even more. He was already waiting in the lobby, chatting with Sara.
The moment Alyssia stepped into the main room, his attention was on her. Her cheeks flushed at the smile that spread across his face.
“Don’t keep her up too late.” Sara warned. “She’s got an important eight a.m.”
“I’ll do what I can. No promises.” Tate stepped closer, wrapped an arm around Alyssia’s waist and kissed her.
She moaned against his mouth. Such an amazing feeling.
Sara sighed. “So perfect,” she said. Alyssia looked up just in time to see Sara snap a picture with her phone.
Alyssia held up a hand. “Delete that.”
“Nope. Cutest couple of the year.”
The front door slammed open, smashing into the far wall, the noise reverberating through the room. Alyssia spun, heart hammering at the abrupt interruption.
Bryce Thompson Jr. stood in the front lobby, face contorted. His cheeks were red. His mouth was twisted in a sneer. “Give me back my fucking dog.”
Tate stepped in his path, fists clenched, and advanced forward. “You need to leave.”
Alyssia was aware of Sara grabbing the phone, and dialing. But most of her attention was on the scene in front of her. Her stomach flipped in on itself, adrenaline spiking.
“Not until I have my dog.” Bryce stepped forward and Tate met him.
Tate grabbed his arm, and pushed back. Bryce wrenched free, and let a fist fly, clipping Tate in the jaw.
“Stop.” Alyssia looked for an opening. Something she could do to step in.
“Yes, we have an intruder,” Sara told the person on the other end of the line. Alyssia assumed 911. “Violent. Assaulting a customer.”
Tate growled, and dove his shoulder into Bryce’s chest. The teenager returned the favor with a direct punch to Tate’s gut. Tate grunted and doubled over.
Alyssia looked around the room for something, anything she could use to stop this. Bryce advanced on her. “Give me back my fucking dog.”
She retreated as he advanced. Her pulse hammered in her ears, drowning out the background noise.
“It’s not your dog.” Bryce’s voice was low and threatening, but a slur running through the words.
“He’s mine. I get to do what I want with him.
If he’s a bad dog, I get to beat him. I bought him.
I’ll buy you, too, bitch.” As he got closer, a wash of alcohol on his breath hit Lys, making her eyes water.
Tate approached him from behind, hooked his arms under Bryce’s and, pressed his interlocked fingers into the back of the kid’s neck. He dug his knee into the back of Bryce’s leg, and forced him to the ground. “Don’t touch her.”
“Let go.” Bryce struggled against the grip, but Tate held fast.
The door swung open for the second time in as many minutes, and two officers stepped in cautiously, hands on their holstered guns.
“We got it from here,” one said. Alyssia knew the man—he almost always took her reports, and had stopped by the shelter several times in the last few weeks to make sure things were going all right despite the protesters out front.
They extracted Tate and Bryce from each other, and cuffed the teenager. Relief shuddered through Alyssia, and she wrapped Tate in a hug, holding on until they both stopped shaking.
* * *
Alyssia grabbed a handful of ice from the freezer and stuffed it inside a bag.
She returned to the living room to find Tate leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
Sara had canceled the 8 a.m. After spending the last several hours answering police questions, filing a report, and having a doctor tell Tate nothing was broken, but his face would look pretty nasty for a while, Alyssia knew they weren’t going to be getting up early.
She knelt on the cushion next to Tate, and pressed the bag of ice to his eye.
“My hero.” She was only half teasing. Investing money he already had in her business was one thing, but taking a fist for her…
Something she never thought she’d have to see, but she couldn’t help being warmed by the gesture.
“I wasn’t really thinking about being a hero.” He covered her hand with his, the heat of his palm searing, where the ice bag chilled. “I was more concerned about you.”
“That’s what makes it heroic.”
He pulled the ice pack away, and focused on her. “If you say so. Personally, I’ve got better things to think about.”
She raised her brows. “Really? Like what?”
“Like why I’m the only one with a cold face right now.”
“Because you’re the guy with the black eye.”
“So?” Tate plucked an ice cube from the pack. “I’d rather focus on you than that tiny purple bump on my face.” He traced the frozen liquid over her bottom lip and then her top. His voice dropped an octave, gaze locked on her face. “Like how kissable your lips are.”
Her mouth parted at the shock of cold and she gasped at the tease of melting water against her skin.
“How long your neck is.” He popped the cube onto his tongue, and lowered his head.
Ice and his lips caressed a line down to her collarbone.
She arched her back and whimpered. Her nails slid up his back, and she shifted her weight to get closer.
He lowered one hand to the back of her knee. She moved her leg, until she was half wrapped around him, urging him on.
“This bit is always fun, too.” His icy lips brushed her ear, and she gasped.
“That does seem like a lot to think about.” Her comment was cut short when he nipped her earlobe with his teeth. Her fingers wrapped in his thick hair and she pulled him back to her, crushing her lips against his. An insistent need grew between her legs.
She covered his other hand and pushed it further up her thigh, her knee hooking on his hip.
His hand moved up the back of her thigh, sliding over the curve of her hip.
He traced along the waistband of her jeans, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. His mouth moved back to her neck, words tickling her skin.
“Good point. I guess we’ll just have to cover multiple spots. ”
She fumbled for a comeback, attempts failing when his teeth grazed the soft spot between her neck and shoulders, and he sucked on the sensitive flesh.
His fingers brushed her crotch through denim and she whimpered.
Her nails dug into his back, holding him close.
He pressed two fingers against the seam of her pants, and pressed into her slit.
She squeaked and shifted her weight until her clit rested under his touch.
He massaged harder, and she ground against his hand.
He pulled away abruptly, and tugged her to her feet.
“We need a little more room than the couch.” He led her into the bedroom, spun her to a stop, and rested his hands on her cheeks.
When he pressed his lips to hers, her chest threatened to burst. His tongue pushed into her mouth, massaging and twisting with hers.
Wet need throbbed between her legs, wanting more attention, and her nipples pressed against the lace of her bra.
She glided her fingers down his chest, undoing each button she encountered, then pushed his shirt off his shoulders. Hunger swelled inside, combined with the lingering adrenaline from earlier. Each touch sent fire over her skin, and his comforting scent filled her thoughts.
He broke the kiss long enough to let her yank his undershirt over his head. He gripped her hair, and she gasped at the sharp jerk when he lowered his head to the hollow at the base of her throat. Her pulse threatened to run away when he cupped her breast, and squeezed a nipple through her bra.
His strong touch coaxed every nerve ending to life.
She dragged her thumb over his chest, and flicked a small brown nub, slowly at first, then faster in response to his moans.
He stripped her shirt and bra off, and tossed them aside.
He guided her to the bed. Her sex pulsed, wanting attention.
He massaged her breast, then drew a pink button into his mouth.
When he flicked his tongue back and forth at a rapid pace, she tilted her head back with a gasp.
God, that felt amazing. It tugged a chord inside that ran from her nipple straight to her aching center.
He continued the motion for several minutes, switching between breasts, until her thoughts swam with so many sensations she couldn’t process them.
She wanted more. To feel his entire body pressed against her.
She undid his belt and slacks, and slid her hand inside his boxers.
His mouth vibrated against her rigid nipple when he groaned.
She worked him as free as was possible, given they were both sitting, and stroked his shaft in time with his sucking. He thrust his hips against her.
Without warning, he unsnapped her jeans, jerked the zipper down, and nudged her onto her back. He yanked her pants down her legs, then leaned over her, voice deep and gravelly. “I need to fuck you.”
She nodded at the hunger in his voice, not sure she trusted herself to speak.
He shed the rest of his clothing. She scooted back on the bed, already slick with anticipation.
With a single thrust, he drove inside her.
She arched at the sensation of being spread open, drawing him in farther.
He leaned forward, hands on either side of her head, and worked his hips slowly, keeping the rhythm steady.
She pushed against him, trying to increase the pace.
He dipped his head in, mouth hovering over her ear. “If you do that, I can’t last long.”
She smiled. “I don’t mind.”
He sat straight up, pushing himself deeper with a sudden thrust. “I do.” He grabbed one of her knees, and drove it to her chest. With his free hand, he reached between them, and found her clit. He bumped his thumb over the button, pressing harder each time he thrust into her.
She gasped, each breath growing shorter as the combination of him hitting her G-spot and fingering her pushed her to a fast climax.
She wanted to draw the moment out, though.
Sink into the pleasure. She pounded against him, and this time he let her set the pace.
Orgasm flowed through her. Her pussy clenched around his cock, spasming, milking him.
He pulled away from her swollen sex, and pushed her other knee forward.
His grunts grew more labored and thrusting more frantic.
She recognized the familiar sound of him coming, and seconds later, he spilled inside her.
He continued to pound a moment longer, until the edge faded from her ecstasy.
He finally slowed, then stopped and let go of her legs.
Still inside her, he bent in and brushed his lips over hers.
“I want this for the rest of our lives. This… everything. This us.” His words were punctuated with him struggling to catch his breath.
She nodded. “Me too.”
He rolled off, and they shifted on the bed until she could rest her head on his chest. She could only focus on a single thought, as they intertwined their fingers and rested their hands on his chest. This was absolutely perfect.