Someone to Watch Over Me Page 5

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “You’re beautiful. The real thing, strawberry girl.” Impatient, he took my mouth again, hungrier. His tongue thrusting against mine with greed. I pushed away, hands pressed against his chest, pushing then dragging him back to me, wanting to revel in this, wanting to savor it and then feeling bereft when he ceded.

  “I like that,” I said, nibbling the ring circling his lip. He had another on his tongue. A large metal ball above and below. “That too. I always wanted one.”

  “I’ll take you myself.”

  “I want to feel it…” Daringly, I bit my lip and pointed between my thighs. “There. I heard it does wicked things.”

  His eyes flashed, a dark smile playing at the edge of his lips. He nudged my legs wider, falling to his knees. His tongue darted out, flicking that metal ball against my most sensitive spot. My head fell back, my body arching into him. I was wrong. He did wicked things. That ball was the cherry on top. It brought me to peak faster than our first time together.

  The moon and the stars could’ve shot from the sky and I wouldn’t have noticed a thing. Lost, I was in a glimmer of hope. Falling deeper and deeper into an unfathomable abyss of emotion. My mind couldn’t register the magnitude of my feelings.

  Raveling my fingers into his dark hair, I cried out. He braced my thighs as I tried to push him away. I couldn’t take anymore. My body trembled against him as he wrought every rack of pleasure from me. His tongue flicked against me again and again.

  When he finally deemed I’d had enough, I fell back against the mattress, my breaths coming in hungry gasps. I heard the draw of a zipper, and a rustle as his pants fell to the floor.

  Leisurely, he climbed onto the bed, his expression a warning, a promise. I stopped breathing as he stalked closer, losing myself in his eyes. He could devour me in their inky depths, trap my soul within their glossy reflection. God knows, I would go willingly.

  “I was wrong,” he said so quietly I almost didn’t hear. Skimming a finger down my neck and shoulder, the trail of his touch left goosebumps on my skin. He circled the peak of my breast, teased it to a stiff crest. “There’s no getting you out of my veins.”

  “Don’t.” Lifting my hand, I pressed my fingers to his lips. “Don’t say that.” We had two very different lives. Nothing could come out of this. There was no reason to lie to myself with notions of white picket fences and happy endings. They were just make believe.

  “Why, Coop? It’s how I feel.” He slid into me, slowly, gently, ending the conversation. Our thoughts centered on the here and now. A slide of skin. A sigh of pleasure.

  Closing my eyes, I moved with him, matching his pace. He loved with exquisite torture, thrusting with a gentle rhythm, drawing out every second of our joining with infinite patience.

  We made no promises, spoke of no future. We relished the moment, satiating each other’s needs. A touch here. A caress there. And kisses, God, his kisses could loosen the most reticent of hearts. I told myself that they meant nothing. He was just an exceptional lover.

  Lucky me to have him for one night.

  Closing his eyes, he bit his lip, moving at a measured pace. Beads of sweat rose across his forehead. I could watch him for hours. That gentle sway of hair that draped across his face. The tendons that strung from his shoulder to his jaw. The rippling of flesh over his ribs as his hips plunged relentlessly forward. He seemed so human to me at that instant. Attainable.

  Opening his eyes, he caught me staring. A smile played at the corners of his lips. “You like what you see?”

  I flushed and turned my head, denying my attraction.

  “You keep lying to yourself, strawberry girl. You feel it.” Picking up his pace, he gave a few sturdy thrusts, grunting with strain. “I’m in your veins, too.”

  Slanting his mouth against mine, he kissed me hard, pulling me forth as he ascended that rocky ledge of passion. We rose to a crescendo, panting, tongues tangling and stroking one another into a frenzy of oral exertions. Then melded into one heaving mass as we tumbled down the other side. Limbs meshed, locked together as we rode out our fading tremors.

  FFFFffuuuuuccckkkk. Tate was right. He was in my veins.

  Chapter 4

  I woke the next morning to a conversation taking place between Tate and Levy, their voices hushed in the early morning. Listening, I nestled under the blankets, biting the back of my hand to keep from laughing aloud.

  “I want that.”

  “That’s my donut.”

  “I hab it?”

  “Emily said that you already had one.”

  There was a long pause from Levy, which denoted a big fat ‘yes’ to Tate’s observation. The kid was two and he was already mastering the art of prevarication. “Pwease, I hab a donut?”

  “Damn, how can anyone say no to that?”

  “Das a bad wood.”

  "Oh geez. You’re right. That's a very bad word. Don’t tell your mother I said that. She’ll kick me out, for sure.”

  “I hab it?”

  “I tell you what,” Tate negotiated, “that chick said you need your diaper changed. You let me change your diaper first, and you can have it.”

  “No.”

  “Look, kid, I don’t want to change it and you don’t want it changed, but if you work with me here, you’ll be more comfortable and one chocolate donut richer. It’s a win win situation.”

  “No.”

  “I’ll throw in the chocolate milk too.”

  “Chocowit miwk?”

  “That’s right—wait! The diaper gets changed first. Diaper then donut. Now tell me where they are.”

  “The diapers, kid, the diapers! I already know where the donuts are!”

  The bedroom door opened. I was still laughing quietly to myself. Tate walked in, flicking the light on as Levy toddled through. Levy saw me and squealed, trundling across the room, arms raised, hands stretched out.

  "Momma! Momma! Mmmmooommmma!" Reaching down, I caught him at the edge of the bed and lifted him up with me. He squealed loudly and began smacking loud, wet kisses boisterously across my face.

  Watching with amusement, Tate shrugged and followed suit. He barreled across the room and dove into the bed. He joined Levy in his onslaught, taking turns showering me with kisses. Levy found this entertaining and watched, laughing, while Tate pressed on, his eyes bright and blue with wonder. My heart nearly fractured in two when Levy smacked his lips in Tate’s direction, his pudgy body leaning toward him. Tate didn’t hesitate, kissing him with exaggerated gusto. He didn’t even balk at the string of drool coming from Levy’s mouth.

  “He’s like the coolest thing,” Tate said in amazement. “He’s like a mini Cooper but with a penis. That’s what I’m going to call him, Mini Cooper. Mwah.” He pressed another kiss to Levy’s cheek, as he demanded another kiss. “Mwah mwah mwah.”

  “He’ll keep doing that as long as you keep kissing him.”

  “It’s cool.” He quickly changed his mind when a string of saliva strung from cheek to cheek. “Oh, ok, no more. All done here, buddy. That’s where I draw the line. Christ, that’s wet and nasty.” He dragged his arm across his face. “Jesus, where does it all come from?”

  “He’s teething.”

  “I thought they teethed when they were babies.”

  “Molars. They don’t come in until two or three.” Turning my head to the side, I yawned widely. Wiped the sleep from my eyes. “What time is it anyway?”

  I had hoped for Tate to be gone before Em brought Levy home, but fate clearly wasn’t working in my favor. Now here he was playing kissy face with my son. I thanked God Levy was only two and his autobiographical memory wouldn’t kick in for another few years. Likely, he wouldn’t remember Tate past several months, or so I had read.

  “Ten. Your neighbor brought him by about an hour ago. She was called into work early. Shouldn’t he be toilet trained by now?”

  “When he shows interest. My mom told me not to bother until then. And despite my m
illion attempts, Levy wants nothing to do with it.”

  Skeptically, Tate eyed Levy, who clutched his toes and rolled to his side, staring up at us with an exuberant smile. “Maybe she’s right. He seems content to wear soggy drawers.”

  “You don’t have to change his diaper.”

  “I wanted to let you sleep.” He shrugged, unconcerned. “I kept you up too late.”

  “I’m awake now; I can do it.” I grabbed the edge of the blankets to throw them back so I could get up, but Tate grasped my hand, stopping me.

  “I’ll get it for you. Just tell me where they are.”

  “You’re gonna change his diaper,” I said skeptically. No one enjoyed changing diapers no matter how much you loved your kid.

  “No, I’m just offering to get the diaper for you so you don’t have to get outta bed.” Leaning over me, he nibbled at my bottom lip. I all but stopped breathing and not because I was entranced with his devilishly good looks, but because I didn’t want to horrify him with my morning breath. “You look snug lying under those covers. I wanna climb in with you.”

  “Top right drawer.” Right next to my underwear. I’d shoved them in there during my haste the night before while clearing Levy’s things from sight. Fat lot of good it did me.

  Tate released my lip from between his teeth then pushed off the bed and walked to the dresser. He grasped the knobs on the drawer—as if he were about to discover the answer to life’s greatest mysteries—and yanked it open. Without much thought, he reached in and pulled out a diaper.

  I released my breath, relieved over the reprieve of having Tate Watkins rifle through my underwear drawer. I had anything in there from the dreaded period panties to Cookie Monster-printed bikinis.

  “Holy Mary, Mother of God.”

  Clearly, I’d spoken too soon. Tate’s hand dipped down once more. It came back up with a pair of red leopard thongs—with ‘meow’ printed across the front—hooked around his index finger. He smiled crookedly over his shoulder and strung them from finger to finger.

  “Tate!”

  “Oh, come on, Coop, this is absolutely fascinating.” Ignoring my objection, he dove back in, rifling through my underwear. “This drawer is like a window to your soul. All you different moods are right here at my fingertips. I’ve got sexy…straitlaced…playful…lazy…”

  “Do you always go through girl’s underwear drawers?”

  “No, I’ve never stayed the night with anyone before.” Lifting my white, lacy thongs from the drawer, he turned them this way and that. “Well once, but I left earl—”

  Tossing the covers back, I snatched the diaper from his hand and the wipes from the drawer. I really didn’t care to hear about his past dalliances, not that I had any right to be jealous. I used him the same way he used other women, the same way he used me. He was a flirt and a playboy. Even Carter Strickland told me not to trust him. I needed to change Levy’s diaper and send Tate on his way, even if I had to drive him myself.

  “Hey.” Tate turned, facing me.

  “What?” Thanks to Tate’s bribery, Levy gave me no trouble with changing his diaper. His usual bout of objections tamed over the promise of a donut and chocolate milk.

  “I’m not going to lie to you. Is that what you’re expecting, for me to deny there were other girls?”

  “It’s really none of my—”

  “My God,” Tate exclaimed, cutting me off. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pecker that small. It’s like a turtle head coming out of its shell.”

  “Tuttle,” Levy echoed, ever the sponge of knowledge.

  “Don’t worry, little man, it’ll grow.”

  “Yew tuttle?” Levy inquired curiously. Free from the confines of his diaper, he grabbed his package, squishing it in his hand like a ball of putty. I’d seen it before so it was no great shock to me, but Tate looked like he was about to go cross-eyed. I merely took Levy’s hand and pulled it away, encasing him safely in a fresh diaper.

  “He’s asking if you have one too,” I told Tate, who was at a loss for words.

  Tate adjusted himself unconsciously and swallowed down the last of his discomfort. “Yeah, but mine’s big.”

  “Big tuttle!”

  “No, big pee pee,” Tate corrected. “You turtle.”

  “Yew tuttle!” Levy crowed. Clutching his toes, he rolled to his side, staring up at us with an exuberant smile.

  “Whatever,” Tate said, “but heed my words, kid, if you keep handling it like that, you’re going to stunt its growth. Squeezing it like that can’t be healthy.”

  Finished, I bundled up the sodden diaper and dropped it in the small wastebasket beside the bed. “Are you planning to use those as a string to tie around your finger so you don’t forget me when you leave?” I gestured to the white lace thongs Tate was wringing in his hands.

  He looked down at the undergarments and smiled waywardly. “Forget you?” he protested. Lifting Levy off to the side, he climbed onto the bed, coerced me to my back and wedged himself between my thighs. “Cooper, I don’t think that’s possible. If anything, I want more of you.”

  Which part of me he wanted was evident. I could feel him hard against my core. Taking my mouth in a firm but teasing kiss, he further corroborated his claim. I moaned low in my throat, impulsively raising my hips to meet him. His hand wandered down my thigh, hitched my leg over his waist. His hips swiveled, stroking me with the thick ridge of his jeans.

  “Yup,” Tate groaned, “definitely more.”

  “If you can do it again after last night—or rather this morning, then you’re amazing. Amazing or superhuman.”

  “Amazing. You had it right last night.”

  “I don’t remember saying that.”

  “Oh, you did, but it came out something like ‘Ungh!’” His eyes rolled to the back of his head, blithe and mocking. “You go completely incoherent when I’m inside you. I love it.”

  Laughing deep in my belly, I turned a warm shade of red. “I do not.”

  “Yes you do.” Grinning, he set back to work, following the line of my throat with the edge of his teeth.

  “Tate.” He followed my eyes to Levy, who was paying no attention to what we were doing, enthralled as he was with the lint in between his toes.

  “Hey kid.”

  Levy looked up, feet forgotten. “Huh?”

  “You want that donut now?”

  A cheeky smile spread across Levy’s face. “I hab it?”

  “It’s all yours. The chocolate milk too.”

  Levy climbed off the bed and toddled from the room. Out in the kitchen, the chair scraped across the floor. “Spinkews….nummy.”

  “I imagine that’ll keep him busy for a few minutes.”

  “Tate.”

  “Relax, Coop. We’re not going full out here.” With a sharp yank, he tugged the blankets over us and recommenced his trail down my throat. His hand moved contrariwise, first lifting my shirt out of the way and then lifting my breast to his mouth. I bit my lip, holding back a moan. My hands moved to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin.

  Tate’s other hand dipped down between my thighs, circling and then sinking in. I garbled a low moan of pleasure, my eyes fluttering. I meant to utter something indelicate like, “Fuck,” but it came out, “Mumph.”

  “Oh? So it’s incredible now?” His eyes crinkled at the corners, smiling in jest. “I don’t know which I like better. The Incredible Tate Watkins or the Amazing Tate Watkins.”

  I wished I knew how he could converse while performing this kind of mental calisthenics. He was right; my brain stopped functioning during sex. “Ungh. Mumph.”

  Laughing softly, Tate leaned in close to my ear, nibbled at the lobe. “Better be careful. You might give me a god complex with all those little noises you make.”

  “Tate?” I managed. It wasn’t without effort.

  “What, did you want to add prodigious to the list?”

  “No, I…wanted…to say…shut up.” I couldn’t relax enough to lose mys
elf with his teasing, and I needed to finish quickly. I heard Levy turn the television on, which meant that he was finished with his donut or was eating it on the sofa.

  “Geez, Coop, that’s cold.”

  “And kiss me…I wasn’t…finished.”

  Beaming that crooked smile my way, he crushed his mouth to mine, picking up his pace. All of those little sounds I made were muffled by his lips.

  As promised, a few minutes—and by this I mean sixty seconds—later, I lay shuddering. We might’ve gone a few rounds the night before, but it’d still been a long time since I’d been touched, and he was Tate Watkins.

  Gathering our attention, however, Levy gasped. “I spiwed it!” The patter of footsteps whispered against the carpet. He appeared at the door, his face smeared with chocolate icing and rainbow sprinkles, his khaki shorts a shade darker. “I spiwed my chocowit miwk.”

  “Oh man,” Tate breathed, falling still.

  “You ate at the table, right Lev?” I knew it. Even Tate couldn’t distract me from my maternal instincts.

  Levy’s finger went to his mouth, curling uncomfortably. He looked up from under his fringe of blond lashes. “I dunno.”

  Oh, this so wasn’t good. “Were you on the sofa?” I could hear the cartoons filtering from the television. On the other hand, Levy remained silent. I shrouded my eyes, conscious of the full implications. If his face was any indication of the mess he made, then my sofa was toast.

  “Coop,” Tate said hesitantly, “you’re not gonna, like…punish him or anything, right?”

  “Are you kidding?” I whispered with feigned solemnity. “He ate a chocolate donut and spilled chocolate milk on the sofa. I’m gonna give him the belt and stick him in the corner.”

  “You’re kidding.” Watching Tate’s frown deepen, my mouth curled into a smile. I couldn’t hold a straight face if I wanted to. “Oh, God, you’re a terrible, terrible person. You should be ashamed of yourself. I thought you were serious. I was getting ready to defend the kid and take the beating for him.”