Aflame (Fall Away #4) Read online

  I’d bury any lingering resentment from my own childhood for her.

  I walked to the window, zoning in on Tate sitting cross-legged on her bed with an array of books spread out before her.

  Her tanned arms were half covered by her long hair spilling around her, and when she got up to do something with her iPod, I grunted under my breath, feeling my dick tighten and then swell.

  “I gotta go,” I told my mom. “See you tomorrow.” And I hung up.

  Gripping my phone at my side, I watched her for all of two seconds—fresh and beautiful and sweet and driving me fucking nuts—before I jogged down the stairs, texting as I went.

  Come outside.

  I grabbed my leather jacket and keys, dashing into the garage, hitting the opener.

  I added Please just for good measure, and climbed on the motorcycle.

  Turning the ignition, I backed out of the driveway and eased down in front of her house, unlatching the helmet secured to the side.

  I knew she might resist, but much to my relief, the front door opened.

  She stepped out, folding her arms over her chest, which I knew she did for modesty’s sake. She was in her pajamas—shorts and a T-shirt—so she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Looking confused, she walked down the brick walkway and cocked her head. “What are you doing?”

  I held up the helmet, hopeful. “Nighttime ride?” I suggested. “Your favorite thing in the summertime.”

  Okay, not her absolute favorite thing, but close.

  She looked at me like I was crazy. “I’m in my pajamas, Jared.”

  “And you’ll stay in them,” I shot back. “I promise.”

  She hooded her eyes, unamused by my joke, and I fought to hold back the grin.

  Her red plaid pajama shorts were short and awesome, and the idea of her thighs, looking just as smooth and supple as ever, wrapped around my waist was a thrill I’d definitely let myself have right now. Any way I could get it.

  She regarded me, the wheels in her head turning, but I didn’t miss the flicker of temptation she sucked at hiding.

  “Just a minute,” she sighed, giving in and spinning around.

  She dove inside the house, grabbing a hoodie located just inside the door and her black Chucks. She slipped on the hoodie, sweeping her hair out from underneath, and then sat down on the top steps to slip her shoes on, leaving them untied.

  And the amount of sexual rage running through my goddamn body as she jogged down the steps, her long hair dancing in the light breeze and her smile shutting down my heart, made me real damn glad she wasn’t sitting in front of me.

  Instead, she climbed on behind me, and I handed her the helmet.

  Her bare thighs rubbed against the outside of mine, and when she wrapped her arms around my waist, I closed my eyes, savoring the frustration.

  “You ready?” I nearly choked on my words.

  She snuggled in tight, grazing my ear with something—maybe her nose? “You smell good,” she whispered, and I squeezed the handlebars.

  Son of a . . .

  She was doing this on purpose.

  “I’m taking that as a yes,” I said, slipping on my helmet.

  “You usually take what you want,” she retorted. “Don’t you?”

  I shook my head as her chin lay to rest on my shoulder, determined not to walk into that one. We took off, flying down the street as her front leaned forward into my back and her arms tightened even more.

  Taking a few turns, I steered us toward the long city streets where we could drive at a decent speed but not too fast. Cruising easily down the calm stretches of road, I felt her relax and lean into me more, her body moving in sync with mine when I weaved to change lanes or turn.

  She felt beautiful. Just like always. My body was squeezed between her tight thighs, and she stayed close. Her head—or chin or cheek—never left my back, and we drove the deserted back roads and neighborhood streets just like we used to. Back when we realized how awful it was to be apart and how much we wanted to be together, no matter what we were doing. We simply had to be touching.

  And after about a half hour, she remembered, too.

  Her hands drifted underneath my jacket and skimmed my waist, her fingers slowly splaying out across my stomach.

  I breathed harder as she rubbed my abs, dragging her fingernails across my skin, where every one of my muscles was on alert, thanks to her.

  One of her hands moved down the inside of my thigh, and I felt a flutter in my chest.

  She grazed my ear with her moist lips and breathed out my name. “Jared.”

  I held my hands stiff on the handlebars, almost afraid I’d lose control.

  I reached back, taking her thigh in my hand. That soft skin just above the knee teased me. Urging her closer, I strained for control, feeling the heat between her legs hug my back, and I took us back home before I gave in to temptation and pulled over in a back alley.

  In front of my house, I took off my helmet and sat there, because her fucking hands hadn’t stopped, and it felt too damn good.

  “I missed riding with you.” The warmth of her whisper coated my ear. “Not like at the race Friday night, but cruising like this. It’s like dancing, the way I move with your body.”

  I turned my head, leaning into her mouth as she grazed my ear. “It is. The kind of dancing I’m good at.”

  And I hissed when she reached around and took my cock in her hand, massaging it and making it painfully hard. It was trying to punch through my jeans.

  “Fuck.”

  I squeezed her thigh and then gave in. Twisting my body, I slid one arm under her arms and gripped her thigh with the other, hauling her into the front to straddle me.

  She didn’t hesitate. Grabbing the back of my neck, she pulled me into her lips, and I fucking took her mouth with just as much force.

  Jesus Christ.

  Tate’s kisses were like a game. She came in, moving quick as she licked and bit and massaged, then releasing me just early enough to jack me up and leave me hanging. She always teased, letting me taste her tongue as it licked mine, and then took everything away, and I was a damn junkie needing another fix.

  And her body. Her tight stomach and perfect legs moving against me and on me were nothing compared to how she looked naked and moving the same way.

  Gripping her ass in both hands, I jerked her into my cock, grinding her so she’d feel me even deep inside.

  Then I leaned forward, pushing her back on the bike, desperate to slide my hand up her sweatshirt.

  But I just sat there, pressing my forehead to hers as we both breathed hard. I knew she wanted it. I knew I fucking wanted it.

  Except I was suddenly hit by where this would put us in the morning. We’d fuck, probably all night, and love every second of it. I knew she wouldn’t say no if I took her inside right now, but . . .

  “Do you want to come in?” she gasped, taking my face in her hands. “Jared, please.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, my dick feeling like it was going to combust if it didn’t get to her, but . . . damn . . .

  I didn’t want to just screw.

  I wanted her to love me again. I wanted her to say she was mine.

  And I didn’t want to have to bully her about it, either.

  Taking a deep breath, I sat up and shook my head. “No.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Excuse me?”

  I heaved out a sigh, feeling like I’d rather chew tin foil than say no to her again.

  I took her hands and pulled her up. “Come on,” I urged, climbing off the bike. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  She looked absolutely stunned as she slid off the bike and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Are you serious?”

  I almost laughed. She’d always been the one in control in the past, and this was certainly new for
both of us.

  I put my arm around her shoulder, walking up her walkway. “Take the week,” I told her. “Go to your job. Read your books. Take a great big swim in Lake You,” I teased, walking up her porch stairs. “And if, at the end of the week, you’re ready to give me this,” I turned her around and placed my hand on her heart, “then I’ll take this.” And I slid my hand between her legs, holding her pussy.

  She jerked, her eyes rounding again as she stilled.

  I leaned in, kissing her lips softly, and then made my way back over to Jax’s house before I had a chance to rethink my stupid decision.

  Tate and I would fuck.

  Hopefully tomorrow, when she was ready to admit that she wanted me back, but until then . . .

  I wasn’t wasting days, weeks, or even months going round and round. I’d have her heart first.

  Walking into the house, I noticed Jax, Juliet, Pasha, and Fallon curled up on the couch and carpet watching a movie, so I went into the kitchen to find Madoc, sitting at the table, making a sandwich.

  I slowly lowered myself into a chair and leaned back, needing sleep and my best friend’s perspective.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, loading his bread with mustard.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  I glanced at him, ready to do something I’d never done before, and confide in him. I wanted him to tell me she was okay. That I was good for her, and that I was everything she needed.

  But his scared blue eyes were focused downward, and he inched back.

  “Yeah, well,” he said warily, “your dick is hard, dude, and it’s kind of freaking me out. We’ll talk later.”

  And he abruptly grabbed his plate and can of soda, getting up and leaving the kitchen.

  I looked down to see, indeed, I was still completely jacked up from the episode outside.

  My chest shook with laughter. “You don’t like it?” I called after him. “Freud said everyone was bisexual, right?”

  “Yeah, fuck you,” he shot back.

  I let my head fall back, laughing my ass off.

  Chapter 13

  Tate

  A week.

  He’d asked me to take the week, probably figuring I’d take a day, but in the end, he was right.

  Go figure.

  I needed the time, and I couldn’t believe he was the one telling me we needed to slow down.

  The next day I’d felt terrible about Ben. About trying to force something that I wanted but wasn’t feeling.

  After all, Ben was stable, predictable, and calm. Everything Jared wasn’t.

  And I was tired of being a cliché.

  Terminal good girl wants bad boy every time, right?

  So I had tried changing my stripes, only to learn that it wasn’t a question of bad boy versus good man. It was Jared versus every other guy on the planet, and having him near again reminded me of how awful life had been without him.

  Plain and simple, I still loved him.

  I realized this about the time I arrived at work on Monday morning. Then I spent the evening shopping with Juliet, and when I got home, he didn’t call or knock on my door.

  I definitely expected him to crawl through my window again that night, but when I woke on Tuesday morning, he wasn’t there.

  So I decided there was no need to rush things. Part of me still didn’t trust him. He’d deserted me twice, and although I saw the proof that he’d grown up, there was no need to dive in headfirst every time.

  I’d take the week, do my job and my reading, get my car ready for the weekend, and see what happened. I knew the ball was in my court, but also that I liked it when he pursued me. I always had.

  But other than a few sideways glances, he’d left me alone.

  When I got home yesterday, I saw him and Jax standing in the driveway with a couple of other guys and Jared’s Ford Mustang Boss 302. The same car he’d had in high school, and the same one I’d spent countless hours in and done countless things with him in.

  I didn’t know if they were his friends or coworkers of some sort, but they’d clearly brought his car to him. There was another car in the driveway as well, but this morning when I left for work, it was gone. I figured whoever brought the car must’ve left.

  So Jared had wanted his Boss here. I wondered why.

  I sat up, grabbing the water bottle and spraying my face, little specks tickling my skin. Juliet was lying on the lawn chair next to me, on her stomach, with her face buried in her phone, while Fallon had gone inside to grab waters.

  It was after seven on Friday night, and even though the sun was beyond the horizon, we were still lying out in my backyard, enjoying the remnants of heat and the drone of summer sounds. Lawn mowers, insects in the trees, air-conditioning units . . . and the buzz on my skin, attuned to every little sound of him next door. His music, his car engine . . .

  “What are you doing?” I heard Fallon ask, and I turned to see her looking at Juliet, confused as she set the water bottles down on the little round table.

  “What?” Juliet looked up at her.

  Fallon sat back in the lawn chair, her emerald green bikini bringing out the color in her eyes.

  “That’s Jax’s phone,” she pointed out, catching Juliet red-handed.

  I grinned, eyeing Juliet suspiciously just as much as Fallon.

  Juliet thinned out her lips, thoughtful. “I heard there’s this app where you track each other’s phones. I’m trying to put it on his.”

  “Oh, my God.” Fallon reached out and grabbed the phone out of Juliet’s hands. “Jax has corrupted you. Are you really that worried?”

  Juliet got up on all fours and turned around, sitting down. “You’re telling me you’re not the least bit concerned that our boyfriends”—and then she pointed to Fallon—“and your husband are going to a strip club tonight?”

  “No,” Fallon shot back. “You know why? Because I know Madoc.”

  She plucked her sunglasses off the top of her head and slid them over her eyes, continuing, “As soon as he gets to the club, he’s going to take a selfie or some shit and send it to me to brag.” The casual grin on her lips spread wider. “Twenty minutes after that he’s going to text, telling me he wishes I was up onstage dancing for him. And about an hour later, he’s going to barge through our door, horny as a teenage boy, and wanting who?” She placed a palm on her chest. “Me. And I won’t be home, because we’re going out, and he’ll be frantic, wondering where the hell I am.”

  I snorted, covering up my own concern. Jared wasn’t my boyfriend. Yet, while I wasn’t as worried as Juliet was, I wasn’t as calm as Fallon, either.

  I cleared my throat, adjusting the tie of my black bikini at the back of my neck. “Juliet, you know better,” I soothed. “It’s Zack’s bachelor party, so cut the guys some slack. Jax won’t look twice at those girls, much less do anything with them.”

  Her lips pursed, and I looked above her, seeing Jax appear at the window, drying his hair with a towel.

  He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Especially in her red suit.

  “All that will happen,” I continued, seeing him smirk and walk away, “is he’ll get worked up thinking about the hot mischief he’s going to get up to with you when he gets home. You won’t get any sleep tonight.”

  “And Jared?” she retorted, changing the subject.

  “What about him?”

  “He’s the only one unattached,” she pointed out. “When the strippers get him all worked up—which they will, because he’s only human—who’s he going to come home to?”

  I shot her a pointed look, wondering why she was baiting me. I was about to shoot the spray bottle in her face, but Fallon saved me the trouble. She threw a rolled-up towel at Juliet’s head, at which Juliet threw one back, and they both started laughing.

  After another hour, we’d cleaned up the
backyard and made some dinner—since the guys were getting food with Zack before heading to the club—and then we parked ourselves outside on the front porch to eat. Juliet still wore her red bikini with a cutoff jean skirt. Fallon had on a pair of white shorts, and I had slipped on a sheer white cover-up.

  “Oh, my God.”

  I looked up, seeing that Juliet had dropped her fork and was staring across the porch, into the distance. She darted her gaze down, glancing to where the fork had dropped by her feet, but then forgot it, shooting her eyes back up.

  I followed her line of sight, and my jaw tightened with a smile.

  Jax had stepped out of the house, looking a lot different, and Juliet was breathless.

  He wore black suit pants and a black jacket with a white dress shirt, open at the collar. His height, due to his long legs, made his appearance all the more forbidding and—I had to admit—pretty damn hot. His black hair, close to the scalp on the sides and longer on top, was styled in sporadic wisps that were pushed to the front. With his shoes, his shiny watch, his gleaming belt buckle—Jax looked sleek and powerful.

  I looked over at his girlfriend, rolling my eyes at the sight of her slightly open mouth as she gaped.

  “He’s not a piece of meat,” I teased.

  She blinked, coming back to her senses and then slowly rose, walking to the railing.

  “Oh, my God.”

  I turned, hearing Fallon’s voice this time.

  Just like Juliet, she was staring at Madoc—who’d just exited the house, as well—like she was actually in pain.

  “He’s such a yuppie.” She gave him a wistful look. “But he’s so damn cute.”

  I barked out a laugh.

  Madoc was also dressed in black suit pants and a black jacket, but he wore a gray shirt with a silver necktie. Madoc looked great in ties. They fit his style and his broad chest, and the fact that he took care with his clothing choices, always making sure that everything he wore was a perfect fit, only amplified the fact that Madoc being preppy did nothing to quell how hot he got his alternative-styled wife.

  Fallon stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled. “Yeah, baby!”