Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MAEVE
Tatum’s confession has me reeling.
And I mean, reeling. It takes my brain a good minute to catch up with what he just said, and even then, nothing could have prepared me for what he was going to say.
This whole time, the person he was trying so hard to impress with a kiss was me.
For some reason, I can’t wrap my mind around that.
Me, of all people? There’s so many other girls he could choose from, normal girls, and yet…
He chose me.
Something about that lights a flame inside my core, burning so bright that I could combust from the heat of it.
I have the strongest urge to stand on my tiptoes and smash my lips into his, but I know he needs to make the first move.
He’s practiced for this. I know he’s shy and awkward and probably about to keel over from nerves, but he needs to do this.
I don’t know if he knows that yet, but he just has to. He’s been working so hard to open up with me; I can’t ruin all that progress he’s made.
“What’re you waiting for, then?” I squeak out.
My ears echo as the words leave my mouth, and my skin pricks with goosebumps that send a visceral shiver through my body. My nipples harden against the fabric of my bra, and I have to hold my breath just to regain my composure.
Tate contemplates my question, his eyelashes fluttering faintly behind his glasses as his brows twitch, like he’s nervous. He has to be, even I am. His full lips separate, almost like he’s going to say something, but then they clamp shut again, and he’s practically gulping.
My head nods ever so faintly, like a small reassurance that he’s got this. He can do this. I’m giving him permission to.
It’s what he must have needed because his hand is lifting in mere seconds, so very slowly, and it’s trembling.
I watch his shaky fingers as they reach up toward me, sliding along the side of my neck and holding steady there.
The way he’s so physically nervous makes heat pool low in my belly; I’m just as nervous, even though we’ve kissed already.
But that was before I knew he wanted to kiss me.
Wanted to kiss me so badly that his large hands were shaking just trying to cup my face in his palms.
His chest is heaving as he takes a tiny step closer to me, closing the gap between us and inching his face down tentatively toward mine.
I can hear my heartbeat thudding in my ears as I wait for his lips to press against my own, and when they do, I can’t stop the sigh from slipping past them and into his mouth.
He swallows it with soft kisses, timid little movements that send my heart soaring and my stomach flipping into oblivion.
Oh, fuck it.
Pushing up on my tiptoes, finally, I further the kiss as my hands reach up to grip onto his sweatshirt.
The movement takes him by surprise, and his mouth opens more for me, so I take the opportunity to taste him.
Flicking my tongue along his bottom lip, I have to press my thighs together at the way he opens up even further for me.
As my tongue slips into his mouth, the sound of his breathy whimper has me fucking spiraling.
I feel like I’m buzzing underneath every surface of my skin at the sound. The tension that pulls between my legs, the ache. Fuck. What is wrong with me?
Falling back down on the balls of my feet, the kiss breaks, but his hands still grip me for a moment as he blinks slowly, pupils dilated. His fingers loosen slightly as he stares down at me, his lips pink from the kiss, and he looks unsure as he takes a few deep breaths.
“Are you…” I pause, “okay?”
Every bone in my body is terrified that the regret may be sinking in for him. It always has for everyone else. Somehow, someway, I manage to make everyone regret me.
Tate nods slowly, and for a moment, I panic as he keeps nodding.
Over and over and over again until he’s pulling me toward him and smashing his lips into mine for the second time.
The urgency of his kiss is more desperate this time, his hands gripping my hips so tightly that I’m praying he’s leaving his mark on me.
The thought has me pressing my hips further against him, rolling them into his, and we stumble slightly.
His hands leave my hips as one grasps my face and the other slams into the wall behind me, catching us before we lose our balance, and that has my insides melting.
He’s kissing me feverishly now, and I’m matching his pace with ease, eating up every pant, every sigh, every sound that just barely resembles the one that was driving me crazy before. I want to hear it again.
Take a second.
Take a break.
His waist is pinning me to the wall, and my mind is whirling so quickly in a lust-filled haze that I know I need to stop this now. I don’t want to rush him into anything tonight. I want him to be able to think on it, sleep on it. And if he keeps kissing me like this… Holy hell.
Pushing his chest gently, our lips break apart loudly, and I swear I see a strand of spit that connects from my lips to his. I’m not God’s strongest soldier, I’m just not, and that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen and—
Focus, Maeve.
“Wait,” I breathe, and my voice sounds far away.
He practically gulps as he freezes.
“Maybe we should slow down,” I say. “You should process. I don’t want to rush you into anything.”
“Right,” he says breathlessly.
“Okay.”
We completely separate now as he takes a few unsure steps away from me, like he’s waiting for me to say never mind, come back. I want to. God, do I want to, but I want him to sleep on this. I want him to see how he feels when he wakes up in the morning, see if he…regrets me.
“Goodnight,” I say softly.
His face falls just the slightest bit.
“Goodnight.”
I give him a tiny smile as I step around him and slip from his room, my stomach dropping at the expression on his face before I disappear. Like I just crushed him. And as much as that makes me sad to do that to him, I just want both of us to be sure about what exactly we’re doing.
I don’t want to ruin him, too.