I continued moving in.

“You were never clingy or a nuisance, Tate. The day you moved in next door I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” My voice dropped to a near-whisper and my eyes to the ground. “I f**king loved you. Your dad was unloading the moving truck, and I looked out my living room window to see what the noise was. There you were, riding your bike in the street. You were wearing overalls with a red baseball cap. Your hair was spilling down your back.”

Even then, I knew Tate would be important to me.

Shortly after she’d moved in, I’d found out that her mom had passed away. My father wasn’t in my life, and Tate and I connected instantly. We had things like music and movies in common.

And the rest was out of our control. We’d found each other.

“When you recited your monologue this week, I …..” I let out a breath. “I knew then that I’d really gotten to you, and instead of feeling any satisfaction, I was angry with myself. I wanted to hate you all these years, I wanted to hate someone. But I didn’t want to hurt you, and I didn’t really realize that until the monologue.”

Stepping in front of her, I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end. The heat from her body—so close—radiated toward me, and it took everything I had not to circle my arms around her waist and bring her up into my arms. The memory of how she felt the other night only made me think of all the things I wanted.

“You’re not telling me everything.” She looked like her head was spinning, like she was half in and half out of the moment.

I reached up and cupped her face with one hand, wiping away a single warm tear.

“No, I’m not.” My voice was barely audible.

Her eyes were hooded, but she tried to keep going. “The scars on your back,” she started. “You said you had a bad summer, and that when you came back you wanted to hate everybody, but you haven’t treated anyone else as badly as—”

“Tate?” I cut her off and closed the inch left between us, our breathing in sync as we met chest to chest. All I could see were her lips, full and soft. “I don’t want to talk any more tonight.”

She stood there, watching me close in, and the moment was a hair from coming together or coming apart.

She wanted my lips on hers, but she might not like that she wanted it.

Please don’t stop me.

Her skin was like touching cool silk, smooth like butter, and I fisted my hand in her hair.

And then she jerked, as if waking up.

“You don’t want to talk anymore?” Her strong voice broke the spell, and my legs tensed, waiting for her to hit me again.

“Well, I do,” she yelled, and I sprang into action when I saw her twist around to launch another key into the forest.

Hell!

Circling my arms around her body, I pulled her, struggling, into my chest.

Dammit! I’d explained! I knew she wouldn’t forgive me right away, but why was she still so upset? What more did she want?

You don’t apologize. You don’t beg!

My father’s mantra. Repeated over and over again that summer.

I hated almost everything he’d taught me, but that was one lesson I’d committed to practice. Apologizing was a sign of weakness.

But I wanted Tate back.

My heart only beat for her, and I’d rather spend my life hating, loving, f**king, and breathing her than losing her.

You need to apologize, dickhead.

“Shhh, Tate,” I whispered into her ear. “I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you again. I’m sorry,” I said, closing my eyes as I swallowed the bitter pill.

She twisted from side to side. “I don’t care about you being sorry! I hate you!”

No.

Still securing her with both arms, I used my hands to peel open her fingers and pry out my keys.

I let her go, and she stepped forward and spun around to face me.

“You don’t hate me,” I challenged with a grin before she had the chance to speak. “If you did, you wouldn’t be this upset.”

“Go screw yourself,” she spat back and turned, stomping away.

Um, where did she think she was going?

If she thought I was going to let her traipse home, in the dark, on a deserted road, she was out of her f**king mind.

Digging my feet into the ground, I took off after her, spun her around and threw her over my shoulder like I wanted to do earlier. She landed hard, her stomach caving to my shoulder, and I had a huge desire to keep her there and walk home.

Fuck the car.

Well, almost.

“Put me down!” She kicked her feet and punched my back, and I tightened my hold, willing my fingers to stay put.

Her ass was next to my head, and goddamn, I wanted to take advantage of her position in her short skirt.

But in her current mood, she’d probably cut off my dick.

“Jared! Now!” she ordered, her tone low and commanding.

Reaching the car, I swung her back upright and planted her ass down on the hood of the car. I immediately came down, placing my hands on each side of her thighs and leaning in.

Very slowly.

I knew I should just back off.

Give her time. Win back her trust.

But I’d had a taste of her, and I’d rather give up breathing.

I still made the rules, and we weren’t wasting any more time.

“Don’t try to get away,” I warned. “As you remember, I can keep you here.”

It wasn’t a threat. I just wanted her to remember. The way she’d devoured me on that kitchen counter, wanting me as much as I wanted her.